Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Grub Hub? No thanks. Let’s meet at The Grill. And what texting crimes?
I chuckled at his green-faced grossed-out emoji, salad bowl, and five question marks, then typed, I’ll tell you tomorrow.
I stared at his single heart response longer than necessary before making myself get out of bed. There was football on TV and a fridge full of food. My day was set.
Televised preseason pro football wasn’t always the most entertaining. Teams were tweaking their lineups and testing the readiness of their rookie players before the games counted. I didn’t mind. Football was football and I freaking loved it. I always had. I lived and breathed the game from an early age. My childhood room was still decked with pennants, framed jerseys, and prized footballs I’d collected in my youth. As a kid, I couldn’t get enough of the Green Bay Packers and Brett Favre. Don’t judge. I was six at the time, and they were the fucking bomb. Hell, I still loved them.
LA didn’t have a football team back then. The closest live football involved a two and a half hour drive to San Diego. My dad took my brother, Eli, and me one year to see the Chargers play my beloved Packers and it changed my life. Okay…maybe it didn’t change anything, but it opened a world of possibility that solidified into a real dream when my dad told me that if I worked hard, there was no reason I couldn’t become the world’s best football player one day too.
Life hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. Playing four years of football at a Division Three private university wasn’t my ticket to the NFL. The realization that my original dream might not come true had been a hard pill to swallow at first, but I’d adjusted pretty well—if I did say so myself. I lived a couple of blocks from the ocean with my best friend in a sweet bungalow his parents bought after we moved out of the dorms at Long Beach State. They didn’t want Derek living just anywhere or with any ol’ roommate. Maybe they were a touch overbearing and controlling, but the rent was free at their insistence, so I sure as hell wouldn’t complain.
I had the best of both worlds. I lived in Long Beach and in my spare time, I hung out with the group of friends I’d met during my freshman year. And I played football and went to Chilton College twenty minutes away in Orange with a whole other set of friends. Not bad for a guy who’d been knocking on death’s door his senior year of high school. I had a lot to be grateful for, I mused as Derek walked into the living room.
He bumped my fist in greeting, then flopped onto the armchair next to the sofa in a pose that should have come across as uber relaxed. Unfortunately, the tension radiating from him killed the vibe. Derek was a world-class worrier. I had no idea who’d pissed in his Cheerios, but he’d tell me in his own time. And if you asked me, that was why we were best friends. I was mostly mellow and laid-back while Derek was uptight and fastidious. But we respected boundaries and complemented each other. I encouraged him to have fun and not take life so seriously, and he encouraged me to stay focused and pick up my shit around the house. Win-win.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked.
“Coffee with Chelsea. I think that’s all the activity I can stand today. My head hurts and my stomach is off.”
“Ah. A good ol’ fashioned hangover. No wonder you look like shit.” I waited for his scowl before adding, “It’s not like you to get wasted.”
“Don’t remind me. I need greasy pizza or a burrito to sop up the excess alcohol in my system.” He groaned. “What time did you get home?”
“I dunno. Three, I think.”
“Three?” he repeated. “What was happening at three? Probably nothing good, so tell me all about it.”
I gave a half laugh and shrugged. “Nothing really. I hung out with Mitch most of the night.”
“Mitch?”
“Why are you repeating everything I say?” I frowned. “Yes. Mitch.”
“Hmm. What would you and Mitch possibly have to talk about until three a.m.?”
“Music, school…random stuff.”
I gave him a brief breakdown of the Rory and Jenna sideshow. Then I told him about Amanda’s overtures and my theory that she wanted to make him jealous. Derek scoffed distractedly but seemed a bit agitated when I mentioned that she’d also claimed to know that his new teammate was gay. He went quiet for a bit before leaning forward and giving me a sideways glance.
“You know Rory and Mitch were a couple, right?” he asked.
“I found out last night, but…how did you know?”
“Chelsea. She knows everything,” he reminded me.
“Oh. Yeah.” I frowned and once again gave my full attention to the action on the flat-screen.