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She flashes him a sickeningly sweet smile.
God, she’s gorgeous – even when she’s trying to get rid of me.
Even Coach seems a bit entranced by her. He coughs a bit, his breath caught, before responding to her question.
“Uh–hmph–no, Georgia, I’m sorry. Henry is all you got. As the captain of the team, he knows it better than anybody. Plus, you’re doing him a favor. He needs this just as much as you do.”
He gives me a knowing glare, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips.
10 | Georgia
I SHUT THE office door behind me and quickly step into the crowd, hoping to be camouflaged by the sea of students outside Coach Bryer’s door. I’ve elbowed my way about halfway down the hall before I hear the coach’s door open and close once more behind me.
“Georgia! Wait up!”
Anderson.
My cheeks flush red and, without thinking, I spin around with an angry huff.
“Did you do this on purpose or something?” I ask, my words sharp with irritation.
He towers over the mass of students surrounding us. They bump into my shoulders, knocking me off balance, but seem to have no effect on his sturdy frame. He looks down at me with a smirk, his eyes glistening beneath the messy strands of his overgrown hair.
“Would it be so bad if I did?” he asks, his voice low and calm.
I groan in disgust, rolling my eyes.
“It’s bad enough I have to tolerate you living next door to me–”
“You’re never even home–”
“Listen, Anderson,” I snap, grimly aware that my cheeks are glowing red. “Writing these articles is the only way I’ll be able to have my dream column in the newspaper, the one I’ve been working towards for years, and I’ll be damned if I let some self-obsessed football player screw it up for me.”
He’s quiet for a moment – a calm figure in a whirlwind of chaos as students brush past us laughing, talking, and yelling.
“Helping you with the newspaper is the only way I get to stay captain.” His tone is defeated and somber as he speaks, just loud enough to be heard above the roar of crowded students.
Why am I feeling bad for him? Jesus, Georgia, you really need to get it together. You’re seriously gonna let this self-absorbed jock–
“Will you please do this with me? I promise I’ll make it as painless as possible. I can’t lose my spot as captain, Georgia. Just… please understand.”
I sigh and press my fingertips to my forehead in frustration.
“Meet me on the field tomorrow morning,” I sneer, meeting his gaze reluctantly. “8 a.m. sharp.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
It’s already 7:30 a.m. as I rummage through the apartment, hastily packing all of my essentials for a day on the football field: granola bars, sugar-free sports drinks, sunscreen, and, of course, a novel from one of my newest courses.
“To Mason Field, Patrick. I told you all about it last night. Remember the articles Dr. Randie is making me write?”
He scoffs forcefully.
“What, so I’m supposed to let my girl surround herself with football players without my supervision? If you think I’m cool with that, you’re fucking crazy.”
I stop what I’m doing to thrust my arms down in silent exhaustion as he turns around, my scowling face looking upwards at the ceiling.
“You’re welcome to join me,” I offer, shooting him a small smile. But his glare continues, unphased.
