Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

The Knights’ Playoff Hopes Rest In This Third-String’s Untested Hands

“What?” I skimmed the article but got lost in the football details. Instead, trying to read between the lines, I scoured for any sign or mention of his personal life. Sadly, the article was all about the recent developments, mostly centered on a couple of ill-timed injuries. I folded the newspaper back together and picked at my breakfast, wondering what would happen at the football game and if I’d actually get a chance to see Ross again—or if I’d just be putting myself through three hours of freezing-ass, mind-numbing boredom for nothing.

I smiled when I remembered he’d scrawled his number on the back of the receipt and figured that one way or another—it was going to be a very interesting night.

5

Shelby

“Okay, so remind me again, why are we going to a football game?”

I smirked at Rayna’s question. “I got free tickets. Thought it might be fun. Ya know, mix it up.”

Even with my eyes fixed on the snowy road ahead, I knew Rayna was staring at me. We’d known each other since junior high. She knew me way too well to buy my load of bullshit. I dared a sidelong glance at her as I pulled my dad’s SUV to an easy stop at the stop sign just a few yards away from Rayna’s apartment building. As I’d suspected, she was staring at me, with one thin, drawn-in eyebrow arched high.

A laugh slipped out, and I rolled my eyes. “All right, fine. I met one of the players and he invited me to go watch the game.”

Her other eyebrow joined the first. “You met a player? A real one? Where? When? How?”

I laughed again and pushed on the gas. “I was working at Aunt Maggie’s and he came in. I didn’t know who he was until we’d been talking for a little while. I just thought he was a cute guy.”

Rayna bent forward and rummaged through the large purse she had dropped on the floor as soon as she’d climbed into the SUV. A moment later, she straightened, gripping her pink cell phone in her hand. “What’s his name?”

I bit my lip.

Rayna snapped around in her seat. “Come on! Who is he? I need to Google this shit!”

“Ross Leverette. He’s a quarterback.”

Rayna’s phone played rapid typing sounds as her fingers went to work on the screen. I merged onto the freeway that would drop us downtown and tried to quiet the hammering of my heart. In just a few hours, I’d be seeing Ross again. At least, I hoped I would. We hadn’t formally made plans to meet up after the game, but in the days in between our meeting and the game, I’d decided that he’d given me the tickets with the intention of seeing me.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” Rayna slapped my arm. “He’s gorgeous! Damn! Why don’t I watch football? Oh right, it’s because it’s too fucking cold out here!”

I laughed and leaned back in my seat, forcing myself to appear more relaxed than I felt. I wasn’t ready to confess just how keyed up I was over the prospect of seeing Ross. It would only feed the crazy fantasies that were playing in my mind.

“So, wait. He gave you the tickets and invited you to the game?”

“Sorta. We were hitting it off and then my dad came by to pick me up. It was the night the snow started again.” I paused, my mind drifting to the question of what would have happened if Dad hadn’t shown up. If Ross had given me a ride home in his truck. Where would that version of the night taken us? It was my favorite jumping off point for the steamy dreams I’d indulged in for the past few days. “Anyway, when my dad said he was a fan, Ross offered us the tickets. My dad’s out of town, though, so I called you.”

Rayna was too busy scanning through images of Ross to glance up. “So, he’s hot, rich, and famous? What was he even doing at Aunt Maggie’s? I mean, don’t get me wrong, the food is the bomb, but it doesn’t seem like the A-list type of place a pro baller would hang out.”

I shrugged. “He was studying his playbook. He doesn’t really seem like the flashy type.”

“Hmm.” Rayna glanced up. “So, this was a few days ago. Have you talked to him since then?”

I shook my head. “No. He left me his number on the back of his receipt, but I haven’t called him.”

“Why not?” Rayna demanded, her voice booming around the interior of the car.

“’Cause I’m a chicken.”

Rayna sighed. “Shelby, Shelby, Shelby. What am I going to do with you? You go off to Yale and you’re supposed to have all these amazing adventures, but instead, you spend the entire time in the library. Now, you’re back home and free from all the school shit, but you’re still playing it safe!”