Second Chance: A Military Football Romance

“Don’t start hassling me, Ava,” he warned.

“I’m not hassling you,” I replied. “I’m just making an observation. There’s a big difference.”

“In semantics,” he said with a warning note in his voice.

“No, it’s not just semantics,” I shot back. “It’s an observation about the fact that you are scanning faster than a grocery store checker, and I thought it must be tiring to always be scanning everything.”

“I don’t even notice I’m doing it,” he replied. “It’s just part of who I am.”

“Still,” I said.

“Still, what? Dammit, Ava!” He raised his voice in irritation.

“Don’t get irritated with me,” I warned. “I’m tired of all of this cloak and dagger crap.”

“Lest you forget, this cloak and dagger crap is all about protecting you,” he hissed.

“I did not ask you to —”

“Are you ready for a big Belgian waffle with strawberries?” chirped the waitress as she began to set plates in front of us. Brian and I lapsed into a polite silence during which we only spoke to the waitress. She giggled nervously as she asked if there was anything else we needed, and when we both replied that we were fine, she slipped out of sight and left us to eat our meal.

I said nothing as I smeared butter on my waffle and then covered it in a thick pool of syrup. Brian cut up his eggs, mixed them with the potatoes and then poured catsup over the entire mix. I tried not to roll my eyes as I watched him scoop up a forkful of the mess and shove it in his mouth. He continued scanning the restaurant as we ate, once stopping his fork in midair as he closely watched a man who was paying his bill at the register.

“Let it go,” I hissed through a mouthful of waffle and strawberries. “Just eat your damn breakfast!”

Brian shot me a look that clearly indicated I was to shut the hell up. I ate my breakfast, but the longer we sat in silence, the angrier I got. I didn’t ask to be cleared out of my dorm room! I didn’t ask to be sequestered in a stupid hotel far, far away from my friends and classes! I didn’t ask to be stuck in the middle of a psychotic ex-boyfriend and the bodyguard assigned to protect me! I didn’t ask for any of this!

Suddenly, I felt incredibly sorry for myself. All of this was a mess that I had never wanted nor asked for, and now my life was being ruined by a man who had left me with nothing but a host of invisible wounds. I needed to take control of the situation and get myself out of this mess, not rely on a guy who was clearly in over his head, and was overwhelmed by the task.

“Brian?” I ventured.

“What?” he said in a short manner, not looking at me.

“I want to go back to the dorm,” I said.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ava?” he demanded.

“Don’t you yell at me!” I cried. “I’m sick and tired of you making all of the decisions and I’m sick and tired of letting that psycho rule my life!”

“Me making all the decisions? Me?” Brian raised his voice as he pounded a fist on the table, making the plates jump and causing the other guests to look over at us. He raised a hand in apology and leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, you’re making all the decisions about how to manage this situation and I’m tired of it,” I replied.

“If you recall, you were the one who refused to involve the police and left me hanging out to dry,” he said.

“I know! But I didn’t want to give my father the impression that you couldn’t handle it!” I cried.

“Why? If he knew I needed help, he would get it, right?” he asked.

“No, he’d fire you and find someone else who could handle it and then…” I trailed off not wanting to say what I was thinking.

“And then what?” he pressed.

“And then I’d have to break in a whole new person and it’s a pain in my ass!” I said dryly. Brian shot me a dirty look as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone for the 10th time since we sat down.

“I need to take this call,” he said as he got up and moved out of earshot.

I signaled the waitress that I wanted to pay the bill and she quickly rushed over to take the credit card I held out. I needed an outlet for this frustration, and I knew just the thing.