Ivy doesn’t have much going on up top and her ass is high and firm. The thought of squeezing it in my hands has my cock stirring in my cargo shorts. For whatever reason, this girl totally does it for me. Of course, the last thing I need is to pitch a major tent right now. So I slow track that line of thought as she finally finishes chewing.
“I’m starving. That hike was great, but it really did me in.” She gives me another wide smile before attacking the rest of her sandwich with a single mindedness that I have no other choice but to respect.
As I work on my sandwich, I remember something I’ve been meaning to ask her. “So what’s going on with the whole audition thing?”
Popping a chip into her mouth, she says, “I haven’t really heard anything yet. Eric has a few contacts in Chicago and Cincinnati.” She shrugs her shoulders. “We’ll see if anything happens. I’m hoping for a couple auditions when it gets closer to the end of spring semester.”
“But if something came along right now, you’d probably take it?”
She holds my eyes for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’d have to. Dance is so competitive. And if I have a chance to get in somewhere like that, I need to take it. It’s what I’ve spent my entire life working towards.”
Understanding the feeling, I nod. It’s the same way I feel about football. Making it to the NFL has always been the dream. The end game. It’s what I’ve been living my life for. This is actually the first time my attention feels divided between football and something else.
I just assumed that, if things worked out between us, we’d have the rest of this year to be together before I get drafted. I hate the idea that she could leave at any time. I’m not trying to get ahead of myself here, because what we’ve got going on between us is really new, but Ivy is the first girl I’ve ever wanted to explore a relationship with. I don’t want to lose her.
“And your dad is cool with you dropping out of school?”
Ivy takes a big breath before slowly pushing it out. “Of course he would prefer I finish up my degree. But if I get an audition and make it, then he’ll understand.” Gathering up the wrappers and napkins, she shoves them into the cooler sitting on the bench between us. Switching topics she asks, “Even though this is your senior year, you’re not going to be graduating, right?”
I shake my head. “No. I switched majors last year, so that set me back credit-wise. If I enter the draft this January, I won’t have enough credits to get my degree.”
“So it’s pretty much a done deal that you’ll be entering the draft this winter?”
Now I’m the one taking a deep breath. I really thought I had everything planned out. It’s only recently, as the draft looms closer, that I’m not so sure anymore. “Linc thinks I should go this year. He’s afraid I might get injured and it would hurt my chances of turning pro the following year. Or it could even be a career ender. And I’m having the best season of my life right now. So it makes a lot of sense for me to do it.”
As I push the words out, Ivy does that thing where she tilts her head to the side as if she’s picked up on something important. “But you’re not so sure that’s what you want to do?”
It shouldn’t surprise me that she’s so finely attuned to my thoughts and feelings, but it does. I’ve spent so much time burying my true emotions that I’m not used to sharing my inner thoughts with someone.
Feeling suddenly exposed, I rip my eyes from hers to stare out across the glassy surface of the lake at the greenery surrounding us. Even though we’re about a forty minute drive from Barnett, it feels as if we’re a thousand miles away from the pressure that usually shadows me. Every once in a while I find myself needing to escape here to clear my head. To forget, even if it’s just for a few short hours, all the stress, all the decisions that need to be made within the next few months.
Shit.
I’m sure that makes me sounds like an ungrateful prick. I know all too well how difficult it is to make it to the NFL. Hell, probably every little dude who picks up a ball in peewee football has dreams of making it to the NFL. But the reality of the situation is that less than one percent of kids playing high school football will make it professionally.
Less than one percent.
So I know just how lucky I am to be in this position. It’s not something I take for granted.
But I have a lot riding on this. People who are pulling for me, supporting me, counting on me to go all the way. Family I don’t want to disappoint. Sometimes it feels as if everyone at Barnett just assumes I’ll turn pro. That I’ll be yet another success story they’ll be able to tout for the Barnett University football program.