Page 22 of The Summer of ’98

She palmed her forehead. “The pressure. That’s so hard because I love skincare, but if I could guarantee to help millions of people with my products, I mean, I think it’d have to be the successful line.”

I was about to throw the ball but paused. “You’d sacrifice your own skin to provide the products to the rest of the world?”

“Yeah,” she said, with a duh tone. “I’m just one person. Besides, face-lifts aren’t technically skincare. I could just invest in that if I was desperate. I’d be earning enough.”

She continued to amaze me.

“What skincare do you use?” she asked.

“Nothing. Sunscreen.”

She glared. “The injustice. So unfair. I like your mom and dad, by the way,” she suddenly said, perking up. “I don’t know if I’ve said that. They’re great.”

“They like you too.”

She ducked her head and grinned. “Does it make a difference that your dad was in the NFL? Does that make your chances of getting scouted better?”

“It means more people know who I am. But nah, if I don’t have the skills, I don’t have them. No one’s going to scout me based on my name alone, but they will be watching.”

Moving shadows danced across her thoughtful face and tree leaves rustled when quiet fell upon us, the distant sound of cars humming on the main roads and the occasional bark of a nearby dog echoing in the dark.

“Did your dad always want you to follow in his footsteps?”

“There’s never been any pressure,” I said. “But he was excited when I joined youth football and developed a passion for the game. He took me to his games and stuff like that from a young age, so I’ve grown up around the big athletes. I didn’t actually spend a lot of time with kids my own age when I was younger. Apart from Noah and my teammates. If I had spare time, I was on the field or at games or getting private coaching sessions in with Dad. Didn’t do a lot of the playdates or parties.”

“Do you ever feel like you missed out?” Her voice was quiet. “On being a kid?”

“Nah,” I said. “Nope. I had a great upbringing. I feel blessed in that sense.”

“I used to wish I had a sibling.”

“Overrated,” I joked, picking at blades of grass.

“I’m sure you don’t mean that.”

“I loved having a brother when I was growing up. Someone who was just there whenever I needed him or wanted to have some fun or whatever.”

Ellie nodded with a distant expression; the ball clutched in her hands. “One thing I know for sure, I will not have fewer than two children.”

“I always thought two was a good number.”

She smiled; her gaze locked on mine. “Actually, I think so too.”

Ellie

On Monday morning, I changed into a simple sundress, knowing that I would be out in the sweltering sun for hours. Downstairs, Leroy waited in the foyer for me. He cradled a football in one hand, dressed in a pair of white shorts and a T-shirt, his football cleats in his other hand.

“Ready?” He smiled when I stepped onto the tile floor, my sandals slapping with the steps. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

He tucked the football under his arm and opened the door for me, following behind as I stepped out into the warm summer air.

We settled into the Mercedes and Leroy slipped a CD into the radio, adjusting the volume button before he sat back and pulled his seat belt on. I sat up straighter with excitement when “I’ll Be There for You” began to come through the speakers.

“I love this song,” I said. “Do you like Friends?”

“For sure,” he said. “New season in September. I’m pumped.”

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