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Only I can hear his muttered, “More like sick of the freaking smell,” and I fight down a smile of my own.
“If any more come, can you do the same?” is all he asks.
The nurse agrees, but when she picks up the vase nearest Drew, he stops her with a quick, “Wait.” The bed squeaks under him as he leans over and plucks a small, yellow rosebud from the vase. He breaks the stem off, leaving only about three inches, and then, without ceremony, tucks the rose into the meat of my high ponytail. I blush, and the nurse beams again, but Drew merely flops back onto his pillows, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and glares at the TV—which isn’t even on.
“He’s a natural charmer, your man,” says the nurse as if she’s a proud mama.
“Oh, yes,” I murmur, grinning at Drew, who is blushing now. “Especially when he’s grouchy.”
“Humph...” Drew’s brows knit tighter together. “Rather look at you, anyway.”
Sighing happily, the nurse bustles out, not seeing Drew’s mouth twitching at the corners. But I do, and once she’s gone, I lean in and kiss his stubble-covered cheek.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “I was trying not to sneeze with all of those flowers.” I know exactly why he hates the sight of them, but I’m happy to pretend I was the one who didn’t want them.
Drew’s head tilts back as he closes his eyes. “I just want to get out of here.”
“I know.” Gently, I run my fingers up and down his forearm. I love the tight, satin texture of his skin and could touch him indefinitely. But a shadow from the window in the door catches my attention. “Looks like the guys are here to see you.”
Drew lurches up, his eyes wild. “Oh, shit no.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Get rid of them, Anna.” He looks positively panicked.
“Drew, I’m not going to tell them to go. They’re worried about you.”
He grabs my hand. “I don’t want them to see me like this.” His lids lower, his gaze skating away. “I don’t want to hear about the game. Or face them. Fuck!”
Because Gray is already heading in with what looks like the entire team. Evading Drew’s hand, I get up and lean over him.
“These guys love you. And you love them. Don’t forget that.” I kiss him on the cheek and pretend I don’t see him glaring at me like I’m a traitor as I walk out the door.
thirty-four
Drew
I keep my eyes on Anna’s pert ass as it sways out of my room. Traitorous woman. With her gone, I face the guys, who are shuffling in like they’re going to a fucking funeral. And aren’t they, really? Ladies and Gentlemen, the death of Drew Baylor’s college career. Unfortunately, he did not go out in a blaze of glory, light, and screaming fans. No, he was carried out, screaming in pain and wanting to cry for his mommy. Shit.
No one says anything as they stream in, a parade of legs filling my view, and the scent of deodorant, shower gel, and the faint smell of what I can only describe as “football” that lingers on them filling my nose.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I have to look up. It hurts my neck to do it. My eyes burn as I fight to keep them open. Starters surround me, bench warmers and second strings spilling out into the hall.
“Hey,” I say to no one in particular.
A unified grumble of “Hey, Battle” is returned.
It’s so awkward, I’m choking on it. Beneath the sheet, I clench my fists. I don’t meet my guys’ eyes, and they don’t meet mine. Gray steps forward and plops down on the seat Anna vacated. “Jesus, someone tell a joke or something.”
A couple of guys laugh nervously. The following silence is deafening.
“Hey,” says Gray into the void. “How did Darth Vader know what Luke got him for Christmas? He felt his presents!”
Everyone groans at that.
“Fucking terrible, Gray-Gray.”
