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Pride washes over me with warm satisfaction when I think of Anna. And then it promptly flushes away, leaving me cold, because I want Anna to meet Dex and the rest of them. I don’t know if it will ever happen. She’d balk at the idea. Then again, she came to my practice today. She sought me out for basic comfort.
The warmth returns. Strange how much satisfaction I got just from taking the hurt out of her eyes and replacing it with happiness. When I think of her fuckhead absentee father, who I’d personally like to pound into a stain on the turf, or her mother’s roving hands boyfriend, Anna’s reluctance to make a deeper connection becomes clearer. Whereas I grew up seeing firsthand what a loving, committed relationship can be, she likely hasn’t got a clue.
“You got a woman, Dex?”
Dex studies the cabinets before him as though they hold the secret of life. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” I take a drink and try to hide my smile. “Sounds like you’re afraid of what a specific girl might think.” Which would make two of us.
“There was a girl.” The corners of Dex’s eyes crease, like he’s caught between a regretful smile and a grimace. “She didn’t like football. And what could I say to that?”
I sympathize.
“Said we were just boys in oversized bodies.”
“Well, sometimes we are,” I mutter. “But, isn’t every guy at some point or another?”
“You know it’s going to be worse when we go Prime Time. Take all of this—” Dex jerks his chin toward the living room “—add a shit-ton of money to it, and see what mess comes out.”
Money. The way most of us are playing, we’ll be making bank by this time next year. It isn’t a pipe dream; it’s a fact. And it will come with the expectation of excellence. Against guys who are tougher, faster, stronger, and far more experienced.
After gaining national recognition, I’ve had the privilege to talk to some of my heroes: quarterbacks who’ve won the Super Bowl. They make no bones about the unrelenting pressure. In college, you have what feels like ten minutes in the pocket. In the NFL? It’s ten seconds. And you better believe they’ll hit you hard. You aren’t looking down the barrel of a gun but a fucking cannon, kid.
Does it scare me?
It makes me antsy as all hell. I want that life to happen now.
I shrug and set my now empty bottle down too. “We’ll be all right. And by ‘we’ I mean you, a few others, and me. I don’t know about some of these boneheads.”
Dex just watches me as if I haven’t answered the way he wants. “You think it’s smart to fall for a girl now when you know what’s out there in the near future?”
“What do you mean by that?” Does he think a guy can simply cut off his feelings?
Dex’s massive shoulders lift and fall. “I’m thinking a girl’s got to love the life as much as she loves you to put up with the shit we’ll be dealing with, is all.”
The scowl on my face seems to sink down into my bones. I want to roll my neck just to throw off the ugly feeling settling over me. Love the life? Shit, I don’t even know how to get Anna to consider the possibility of loving me.
One girl decides to lose the G-string and hop on Gray’s lap, and I’ve had enough.
“All right, that’s it,” I say, “I’m calling this game.”
“About time,” Dex rumbles.
“Listen up,” I boom out in my play voice. “Party’s over.”
“What?” shouts Simms. “We just got started.”
“And now you’re going to end it.” Dex plants his feet wide and crosses his thick arms over his chest. “We’re coming down to the wire. Coach hears about this shit and it’s lights out.”
“Damn, man, that’s just wrong,” grumbles another guy.
But they’re listening; Dex and I are co-captains, and they’re used to obeying us. Besides, they’ve committed too much to the season to mess up now.
The women, on the other hand, are pouting at Dex and me in clear disappointment. Which makes my guys slow their feet.
“Come on.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s go.”
“Yes, Mom.”
