Turn Over

“Oh, yummy.” She took a sip. “Delish.”

“Good.” I wiggled back onto my spot on the couch.

The Warriors won the dispute and Luke had the ball again. His eyes were narrowed in concentration.

I’d never felt such a rush before watching football. I think it made me miss him more.

There was a deep pang in my chest and an ache in my core. I curled into a ball. I was glad Helena was here, but I wanted Luke. I wished I could be there with him after the game.

“So, we haven’t even talked about tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?” I was trying to focus on the next play.

“The Country Year Awards are going to be announced and you aren’t even batting an eyelash about them.”

Someone crossed over the line and grabbed a fistful of Luke’s jersey. I jerked to the edge of the couch. He had thrown the ball before the defender got to him. He was fine. Yelling enough curse words to fill a sailor’s bible, but fine.

I turned to her. “I’m not hung up on that stuff. You know that.”

“Yeah, but Jake is.”

“Can we not talk about him?”

I didn’t want my good mood to sour.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok. He and I aren’t on the best of terms right now and it’s going to be a long time before he forgives me for spending an extra day in Austin. All he can talk about is how my imag

e has taken a hit from being seen with Luke. I’m tired of hearing about it.”

“And you can’t tell him that?” Helena always wanted me to stand up to Jake, but she didn’t know the full story.

“No.” I lowered my eyes and voice together. “It’s complicated with Jake.”

“Oh look, they’re going for it.” Helena’s eyes darted to the TV.

We both jumped from the couch when we saw Luke rear back and throw the ball to the other end of the field. That had to be at least forty yards, but I wasn’t paying attention. All I saw was his form. His body. His touchdown.

Helena reached in the air for a high-five. I giggled.

My crush was bad. So so bad.

22

Luke

The locker room was always fucking loud, but after a win like tonight, we might as well have been in the middle of a mosh pit. I couldn’t hear the guy next to me. We had crushed the them. We ran up the score, and I didn’t give a shit.

I had proved a point tonight. The Warriors needed me—no matter what my image was. They could fuck off.

“Canton, going out for drinks with us?”

I eyed the rookie tight end. He had done his job. When it came to clutch time, James had been solid.

The locker room already smelled like a fucking brewery. I thought about grabbing a few beers with the guys, and then I thought about stumbling home alone. I’d walk into the ranch. Dark. Cold. Empty.

I could do what I usually did after a game. Find a piece of ass that wanted to fuck me. A girl who knew I wouldn’t call her tomorrow. A girl who wanted to get her claws in me as long as I put my cock in her.