Page 75 of The Game Plan

Johnson is waiting for an answer.

“I honestly don’t know.” I rub the back of my neck where it’s stiff and sore. “I keep a low profile.”

“Man, I don’t think so,” Rolondo says with a shake of his head. “Not with you singing in bars and shit.”

Johnson laughs, hunching over. “Oh, man. I nearly pissed myself when I saw that video. Fucking crazy, D. I cannot believeyou did that.”

I can’t either. But then Fi brings out parts of me I didn’t know were there. I’d gone into it trying to win her, but endedup having fun. I’d let go in a way I’ve only ever done on the field.

“Thing is, that video has been out for a while. It had a run on social media, got a good laugh on ESPN, but that was it.”

“It’s your calendar. They’ve released the photos.” Drew holds out his phone.

There’s a picture up on his browser, and we all make a swipe for the phone to see. I get there first, elbowing Johnson offas I look down at the screen.

“Shit. I forgot about this.”

“Sexy Dexy,” Rolondo sings out with a laugh, earning a shove from my other elbow.

My team’s calendar photos. Nude photos. Yeah, I did it. Mainly because the photographer was a hot young woman who had a wayof scaring the pants off all of us. Literally.

Thing is, she clearly had talent, and she didn’t treat it as some gratuitous man show—not that most of the guys would haveminded.

The photos were tasteful, done in full, saturated color so rich it appeared as though you were looking at an oil painting.

My photo is a side shot against a deep red background. I’m taking a knee, my helmet on the ground beside me, my head bentand my arm resting on my thigh. A sort of football-style “The Thinker,” the photographer had insisted.

Aside from showing the side of my ass, none of my goods are on display, though I suspect there might be a little Photoshopat work—things hang and all that. I look weary yet undefeated, my expression thoughtful.

“It’s a good pic,” I say absently.

Drew smirks.

And I glare. “What? It has artistic merit.”

“It’s man candy,” Johnson says. “Look at you, all thoughtfully flexing your muscles. Did you flex your ass too?”

“Nothing to flex. That’s just my natural form.” I give him a look. “Jealous?”

Rolondo laughs. “Yeah, he is.” He gestures to the screen. “I’m gonna have mine blown up and hung over my bed.”

“Typical,” Johnson says. “How’d you pose for yours? Doing one of your showboating dances?”

“Holding a football in front of his dick while he strikes one of his showboating poses,” I deadpan.

“Fucking hot as hell,” Rolondo assures.

“I’m not letting Anna see these.” Drew shakes his head. “She’ll be all over me to do one too. But yeah, man. There’s an articlehere.” He hits the screen, and it goes back to another page. “They’re calling you the hot, tatted, sensitive centennial offootball. Apparently, your pic got the most hits.”

“What? Sexy Dexy got more hits than me? Oh, hell no.” Rolondo scowls and pulls out his phone, apparently checking all thearticles himself.

I roll my eyes.

Drew’s mouth turns down at the corners as he reads. “It was that fucker Randolph Norris who said you were a virgin.”

Norris was a nose tackle who played for the rival college team we beat in our last two conference championships. He and Ifaced off several times, and he always came away looking like a chump. To say we dislike each other is putting it mildly.

And since he’d played for a college only ten miles from ours, he was privy to the local gossip.