Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“He’s a friend of my daughter’s.” Her father looked confused.
The guy’s face flushed red, like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. “She’s got some shitty taste in friends!”
I clenched my hands into fists and controlled my breathing. I had walked in here knowing it could be bad, but I didn’t like her being dragged into it.
Bob’s expression darkened. “What? Watch it, pal.”
“Mom, you have to let me out.” Finally, Kayla set her gaze on me, but it was hard and serious. “Time to go.”
The angry fan looming over my chair wasn’t done, though. “She at least getting some good intel out of him?”
That was enough out of this a-hole. I pushed back my chair and stood, giving the guy a good look at my game face. It helped that I was nearly a foot taller, too. My voice was dark. “Get lost.”
“Me?” He wasn’t very smart, because he wasn’t intimidated. “Go back to your truck-driving school in Michigan!”
He’d said it so loud, it caught the attention of the people nearby. Forks froze mid-bite.
“Calm down,” Bob ordered, but when did telling an angry person to calm down ever work?
“This is Jay Harris. You’ve got Michi-scum’s tight end sitting at your table!”
Heads swiveled toward me. Someone dropped a glass in the bar area, and it shattered on the tile floor. The only sound was the ESPN commentary piped through the sound system. No one said a goddamn thing, and I felt the weight of a million pairs of eyes on me. I could handle it when I had a football tucked under an arm, but this was different.
“I think I just blacked out,” Stephanie whispered. “What’d he say?”
A horrified, male voice came from two tables down. “Michigan?”
Cooper reached up and clapped a hand on my shoulder, leaning in. “Just wanted to say this, man, since you might not get out of Ohio alive tonight, but I think you’re an amazing athlete.”
“Thanks?” I was reeling.
When I turned back to her, I discovered Kayla was gone. She’d given up on trying to get out of the booth on her mom’s side and had crawled beneath the table. Was she going to hide under there, rather than face me? I was so pissed, I couldn’t even focus on the bullshit going on around me.
A fan from somewhere yelled out, “Get outta here, douchebag! Go Bucks!”
Kayla emerged from beneath the table and stared up at me with anxiety, maybe even fear. I sighed. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“No shit,” her mother said.
“Great,” the angry fan barked. “Take it outside, and don’t come back.”
Fuck this noise. I curled a hand around Kayla’s wrist and stormed away from the table, dragging her with me. Some people hurled profanities, while others clapped as I shoved open the door for her and followed her out.
It was cold outside, but fire burned inside my veins, flaring hotter when I saw my car. Someone had tossed what looked like a milkshake on my windshield. Ice cream was slung all over the front of it, and the Styrofoam cup was caught on a windshield wiper. I’d forgotten about my Michigan license plate holder. Why did Ohio State fans have to be so goddamn obnoxious?
“Oh,” Kayla said, pulling to a stop beside me and staring at my car.
I sighed. “You really do get thrown out of every place you go.”
She looked up and gave me a small, sad smile. “Only when I’m with you.”
“I don’t have a hard time with women.” I leaned over and set my fists on the hood of the car, avoiding the milkshake. “I could find some girl at Michigan to be with me, easy. Maybe even a dozen. These girls hang around outside practice, waiting. Shit, they practically line up.”
Kayla looked sick to her stomach. “You’ve mentioned it before, so why are you telling me again?”
“All those girls care about is the helmet, not the guy underneath it. I don’t want ‘some girl,’ I want you.” I pushed off the car and faced her directly. “You aren’t with me because you like who I play for, you’re with me because you like who I am.” I dropped my voice to a hush. “At least, I thought so.”
She looked pained. “I do!”
“Yeah? Then, why does your mom think my name’s Jason?”
“Because ‘Jason’ doesn’t go to Michigan, and he definitely isn’t their starting tight end. Jay Harris is. My parents are probably in there right now, examining where they went so horribly wrong with me.”
“Be serious.” My frustration was reaching a critical level. She’d met my parents. Spent the whole day with them. Yet hers hardly knew anything about me, and what they did, seemed to be lies. “I’m exhausted from practice, and all I want to do is crash. But instead I drove three hours to see you. Now I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing here.”