Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I grab my phone from the kitchen counter to text Carter.
The day I was traded, he reached out to welcome me. So I wouldn’t have to start from zero, the Renegades wide receiver told me about his fave restaurants and hangouts in town, and his gym. I joined it this morning.
I’m heading to the gym in thirty minutes. Up for a workout?
His reply is instant. Dude, you’re a mind-reader. I’m walking over there now. I’ll be doing cardio and weights because I have this badass new quarterback, and I want to impress him.
I laugh, rolling my eyes as I grab my gym shorts from the bureau. I think it might be the other way around. I need to impress you and the other guys.
That is true. Better get here soon, he writes.
I’ll be there in thirty.
I tug on my workout clothes, reviewing my game plan as I get dressed.
I’ll work out, then devise a plan to find Jason McKay.
That’s the hardest task of all. The one that makes my stomach churn.
But my brother, Griffin, taught me to own my fuckups, and this one still hangs heavily over my head.
I need to find Jason so I can apologize for last year. I desperately wanted to explain then why I didn’t show up at his house, and I still want to explain it to him now.
Jason never returned any more of my texts, though. After his it’s all good and best of luck, he went radio silent.
I don’t want to start the season with bad blood with my local rival, especially when I’m the new guy in town.
But even now, one year later, just the thought of Jason still makes me shiver.
The things we did in his kitchen have taken prime real estate in my mind for the last three hundred and sixty-five days. I don’t need porn when I have the clip of him and me bookmarked.
But another hookup is not in the cards, and I don’t need Portia to tell me that.
3
IT’S A SMALL WORLD
Jason
On Wednesday, I wrap up a visit to the LGBTQ Alliance by facing two bloodthirsty teenagers in an epic battle of table shuffleboard.
Jonah takes no prisoners as he fires the puck at the end of the table, hitting twenty-one points and winning the final round, beating Whitney and me.
The high school debater thrusts his arms in the air. “Geeks rule. Beat the pro baller and the track star,” he declares.
Whitney slugs his arm, shooting him a defiant look. “Maybe Jason let you win.”
I gasp like I’m so very offended. “After years of coming here, you think I can just check my competitive nature at the door?” I stab my finger on the table. “I gave it my all.”
Jonah smiles like a champion. “Exactly. That was fair and square. I officially rule at the Alliance Table Shuffleboard Games.” He gives a fist pump.
We put the pucks away, and once the game room is spick-and-span, Jonah says goodbye first, then takes off. Whitney hangs behind, and when we head into the hallway, she gives a grateful smile. “Thanks, again, for chatting earlier.”
“Always, Whit.” I’m glad we could grab a minute to talk about her plans to ask a girl to homecoming, a big step for her. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
She crosses her fingers. “Me too.”
I was once one of these kids, and the friendships I made here helped me come out to my teammates in high school, then again in college, and again in the NFL. Seeing these teens grow and gain confidence means the world to me. I never want to miss the chance to offer a shoulder or lend an ear.
“See you soon,” I say, then head to the nearby parking lot.
I drive home to change for my afternoon workout, then set off on foot for the gym, checking my messages as I walk. I’ve missed a text from the team’s publicist. Reese’s note says to check my voicemail and then call because she has something “fun” to discuss with me.
Ugh. Please don’t let it be another media request asking how I feel about the Renegades’ chances with their new starting quarterback. Reese and I have already crafted a bland, stock answer.
I look forward to playing all the teams in the NFL and am thrilled the league has such a high caliber of talent.
The truth is I have no opinion on the new QB except that his dick is nice, and I’m certainly not going to say that.
As I walk along Jackson Street, I play her voice memo.
“Hey, Jay! So, I’m calling because Megan Choi’s radio station is launching a new podcast, Monday Morning Quarterback. It’s standard post-game analysis, and those tend to do well since fans generally want to hear from the quarterback,” she says, and
a flash of black hair catches my attention at the next house. Zena Palladium sets down her watering can in her front yard and waves me down with an excited grin.