Page 50 of How to Lose at Love

“I mean, I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t be curious, though I’d probably be bored out of my mind.” Ryann studies me. “How are your grades?”

I shrug. “Good. I got a 4.0 last semester.”

She squints. “But are those regular classes or like, the fake classes they put athletes in so they pass and barely have to use two brain cells?”

I smirk. “Regular classes. You know, like the ones you’re in.”

Smart-ass.

She scratches her chin. “What’s your major?”

“Business.”

Ryann nods.

“What’s yours?”

“Mass comm.”

“Sounds like a copout. What does that even mean?”

“I want to be in marketing or advertising.” She thinks for a second. “What will happen to you if the football thing doesn’t work out for you?”

I scoff. “The football thing is going to work out.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“It will.” I pause. “Why are you arguing with me?”

Ryann has the balls to shrug, nonplussed. “What if you twist a knee or break your leg and can’t play? Then what?”

Obviously, I’ve thought of that, but she doesn’t have to freaking throw it in my face.

It’s something most athletes think about on a regular basis, if not every single day they step out onto the field.Will this be the day I strain a muscle? Will this be the day I tear a ligament? Will this be the day…?

“Let’s pretend I don’t get hurt and I play football, and I’ll only need my business degree when I retire, mmkay?” Jesus.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So you want to hang out and be photographed with me so everyone in America gets warm fuzzies when they think of you and wants to buy posters with your face on them for their kids’ bedroom walls.”

I nod. “Yes.”

I have no idea what’s going on behind those green eyes right now, but when she opens her mouth, I’m so sure she’s going to tell me what I want to hear.

She doesn’t.

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it?That’s it?”

This chick needs to enter a poker championship. Expression blank, she regards me. Blinks a few times.

Takes a bite of apple.

“Yup.”

ten

ryann