Page 106 of Forever Offsides

I’m seriously in love with her.

I don’t need time to think about it or figure it out. She’s the ocean, and I’m the shore, and I’m simply a victim of her current.

The movie ends and after a lot of touching and kissing, I officially have the worst case of blue balls in the history of the world. But it was worth it because Quinn had fun, and I got to take her on a date.

We walk side by side down the street, and I keep my head low. It’s gotten a bit colder out, and I want to wrap my arm around her and bring her into my side. It’s frustrating as fuck that we have to do this, but I also understand the wisdom behind it.

“You go in first,” I tell her. “It’s cold out. I’ll wait a few minutes.”

“Kay. I’ll be at the bar.” She winks at me and walks into a restaurant I’ve been to plenty of times since I moved to Boston. The food and drinks are good, and the vibe is fun without being over the top.

I wait three minutes and once inside, I spot her on the far side of the bar with an open seat beside her. A guy a few seats over is eying her, and I move in quickly, heading straight for her.

“Quinn? Hi. Funny seeing you here.”

She smirks at me, not much of an actress. “Rhett. Wow. Yeah, hi. Are you meeting anyone here?”

“Just you,” I mouth. “Nope. I’m solo. What about you?”

“Only me.”

“Can I join you then?”

She pans a hand to the empty chair. “All yours, Coach.”

I sit down and lean in ever so subtly. “You sure as hell are.”

The bartender comes over, and we each order a drink as we peruse the menu.

“Do you want to go halfsies with me?”

I fight my grin. “Burger and spicy chicken sandwich?”

“Works for me.”

“I’m game.”

My knee brushes hers under the counter. We order our food and sip on our drinks and chat with each other. The game is on and we chat hockey, talking about the season that’s just starting. I give her half of my burger and she gives me half of her sandwich and just as I go to take a bite, a shadow looms over us.

“Quinn?”

She practically chokes on her bite before she hastily swallows, wipes her mouth, tosses me a quick oh shit look, and spins on her stool. “Uncle Callan. Hi!”

33

RHETT

“Hey,” the tall man greets her and goes in for a hug, but his sharp gaze is locked on me. Uncle Callan. Fuck. “Who is this that you’re here with?”

“Oh.” She laughs. “I came in to grab something to eat because I was too lazy to cook and ran into Coach Jones. Apparently, he lives in this neighborhood too. Have you two met?”

I shake my head and stand. “No. Hi, I’m Rhett Jones.”

“Yes, of course. I know you or should I say I know you from Asher.” We shake hands, and he has a no-bullshit grip.

“Callan and my dad are lifelong best friends. They were in Central Square together and Callan is a doctor at my hospital in the ER.”

“Not much anymore,” he chimes in. “Now I mostly watch my grandchildren while my daughter and her husband work as surgeons.”