Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
One of her shoulders rises and falls. She looks kind of sad. “Sure.”
Sure.
Does she not want me to contact her?
I hope she doesn’t consider this a one-night stand, but there is no time to have a conversation about it. The clock is ticking because I have a flight to catch.
Fifteen minutes later, after I’ve dashed up to my suite and tossed all my crap into my bag, I’m folding myself into the back of a black SUV, my knees hitting the back of the front seat, my brain unable to shut itself off.
I’m not really looking for a relationship. Paisley did a number on me and humiliated me in the process for her own personal gain, making it seem like I was the asshole in the breakup, when in reality, it was her. So am I ready to jump back in with both feet?
Maybe.
Do I think Harlow is fun and could be a good friend? Maybe a friend with benefits?
Yeah, I do.
Whether she wants the same thing remains to be seen, but I can’t afford to let her know everything I stand to lose if our relationship goes south, especially in the press. She has no idea what it’s like and possibly never will.
This level of fame is something few people will experience, and I haven’t decided yet how I feel about it; I only ever wanted to play football.
Grunting, I lean back against the seat, closing my eyes to get some rest en route to the airport—I need the sleep, but my mind slowly wanders back to Harlow.
Obviously.
My eyes pop back open, and I look at my phone.
Stare at the screen and bite my lower lip. She wouldn’t care if I texted her already, would she? Just to see how she’s doing and all that? It’s not too soon? I’m not coming off as . . . needy?
Unsure, I shoot a text to my agent: On my way to the airport.
Trent: Thank God.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Trent: It just means that this weekend you felt like a loose cannon.
Me: What do you mean by that?
Trent: You gave me a GD heart attack flaking on that meeting and getting yourself sick.
Me: Well, it all worked out so calm down. And I didn’t flake on the meeting, I ate some bad chicken.
Trent: Yeah, well—your lucky
Me: *you’re
Trent: Don’t be a dick
Me: LOL sorry I couldn’t pass that up.
Trent: Yeah—you could have
Me: So what’s next?
Trent: That’s entirely up to you. New York wants you and is backing that up with an incredible offer.
Just as we assumed they would.
I tilt my head to the back of the seat again, mind on football and New York and the amount of money they’re willing to pay me to play there. Sick, absurd amounts of money.
Mind-numbing numbers, actually.
Numbers so big my parents will shit themselves when they hear the price New York is willing to pay me. I’ve involved them in the inner workings of my career since day one, since the day I was drafted. They’re as instrumental in my career as my agent is. Technically they were my first managers and continue to offer their opinion and influence.
New York wants me.
Baltimore wants me.
My knee bounces impatiently, one more hour in the back of this SUV to go.
I pull up Harlow’s contact and stare at it.
Me: Miss me yet?
There. So clever and to the point.
Flirty and teasing without being too serious.
Harlow: Who is this?
Me: Uh. Andy??
Harlow: I’m kidding—I knew it was you, you’re the only person I gave my number to this morning.
I relax into the plush leather seat.
Me: I knew you knew it was me.
Harlow: Did you now . . . ?
Me: No. LOL.
Me: So what are you up to?
Harlow: Well. You’ve only been gone about 30 minutes, so—shower. Pack. I’m leaving in a few hours. I will have just missed you at the airport.
Me: Two ships passing in the night, that’s us.
Harlow: I should probably check to make sure everything is on time. I’m one of those nervous flyers that likes to get to the airport early.
Me: How early are we talking about . . . ?
Harlow: 2 hours at least.
Me: Oh shit. Damn, that’s early. I like to get there with just enough time to almost miss the flight, hahahaha.
Harlow: You’re heading to Ohio?
Me: Yeah, gonna spend some time with my parents; we don’t get a lot of alone time together. Haven’t seen them in a few weeks.
I mean, I do actually see them often enough. Plus they’re huge fans of video calls. They come to as many games as they can, but we’re always surrounded by people and fans and my teammates if we see one another at all afterward.
Most times they fly to whatever city I’m in, watch the game, then fly home the next morning.
Harlow: Did they keep your bedroom the same as it was when you were a teenager?