Page 99 of Sporty Girls Don't Fall For Loners

I nod slowly. “If you ever feel unsafe, call me.”

She smiles. “Thanks. Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s go home.” She glances at the spilled popcorn on the floor. “What a waste of popcorn. Stupid jerks.”

“We can buy some more,” I offer.

She waves her hand. “It’s okay. We have at home, anyway.”

As we walk, I ask her, “Has that happened before? Guys threatening you, I mean.”

She shrugs. “There are always guys from other teams who give me weird looks and some have tried to get me off the Lions, but for the most part it’s been okay. My teammates watch over me like hawks. They wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” She smiles. “And now I have another protector.”

I grimace because I wish she didn’t need all these protectors. Why can’t she just play like everyone else? I guess it’s because the guys feel threatened. She’s such a kickbutt QB.

“They’re just jealous,” I tell her. “It’s great that you don’t let them push you down. You’re so tough and brave.”

She laughs. “Believe me, my mom has instilled in me how important it is for me to be tough and stick up for myself. She’s a big believer in girls going after what they want, especially with sports. That’s why she started her charity organization.”

“She sounds like such a cool mom.”

“She is. I’ve wanted to be as strong as her ever since I was a little kid.”

I’m happy for her that her parents are alive and well. When I was younger, I used to be jealous, angry even. But I don’t feel that way anymore. Just because I don’t have parents, it doesn’t mean others should suffer as well.

“It’s gotten cold, hasn’t it?” Zoey says as she shivers.

I glance at the light jacket she’s got on. It looks so thin and useless against the cold. Shrugging my jacket off, I wrap it around her shoulders.

She glances up at me. “Are you sure? You’re not cold?”

“I’m okay.”

“Thanks.” She pushes her arms through the sleeves. “I should have taken a thicker jacket. The weather was nice a few hours ago.”

I shove my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. My mom used to overdress me when I was younger because she was worried I’d be cold.”

She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, then shuts it. I don’t bring up my parents a lot, so it makes sense for her to wonder about them. But I’m glad she’s not prodding for answers.

“Your jacket is very warm,” she tells me after a few minutes of silence. “So cozy.”

It’s weird that I feel a little…glad that she’s wearing my jacket. Like it’s something we both share, even though we technically don’t.

“It’s my favorite,” I tell her. “Makes me feel protected for some reason.”

“Yeah. I get what you mean. It almost feels like armor. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to return it when we get home.”

A part of me wants to tell her to keep it. I wouldn’t mind her having something of mine so she’d remember me once I’m gone. But what would she need my jacket for anyway? And who says she’d want to remember me? I know I’d remember her. Probably for the rest of my life because she showed me I can have fun, let go of the past, and live.

“We’re almost home,” she informs me. I’m not sure, but it sounds like she’s disappointed that our day is coming to an end.

I feel the same way.

We chat about the movie until we’re standing outside our home. She pulls her arms out from the sleeves of my jacket and passes it to me. “Thanks for keeping me warm and toasty.”

I wish I could keep her warm and toasty more often. I’d wrap her in my arms, hold her close to my chest, and protect her from all the evils of the world.

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