Page 35 of For Emery

“I just wanna shave the areas I’m hoping a lady will be seeing tonight.”

“Yup. Totally sound like a girl.”

He cackled as he disappeared upstairs.

I dropped down onto the sofa and scrolled through the newsfeed on my phone. Lots of fans had posted shots of our game, mostly selfies of themselves and not me or the guys on the field. I scrolled more, stumbling upon some posts from Thursday night’s preseason pro games I hadn’t seen. My old teammates were dominating. Caden Brooks had a stellar preseason game, throwing for three-hundred passing yards. I knew he would. The guy was a natural quarterback. I scrolled some more. Trace Forester had kicked some ass too. His pretty face was plastered all over the feed, having scored a touchdown in his first preseason game like the superstar he was.

Could that be my story in a year’s time? I’d only ever dreamt about playing college football, telling myself a career in the pros was a pipe dream. Telling myself my football career would end after college. But now, the pros could actually be a possibility and within reach. I thought I’d been prepared for my career to end at the close of the season, but after today’s game, and my part in getting us the win, I couldn’t imagine not being out on a football field ever again.

Abbott only took fifteen minutes to manicure his goods, and we hopped in the waiting car. Our win was cause for celebration, as was the latest news about my future—which I planned to keep to myself so not to jinx it.

Cheers and raised glasses greeted us as we entered the crowded bar. I’d never been on the receiving end of praise when I entered a room like Caden and Forester had, so the reaction definitely inflated my already good mood. I did, however, refrain from pointing at everybody like the douchebag.

Before I knew it, a drink was shoved in my hand and I was ushered to the dance floor where a group of girls danced around me. I raised my hands above my head and shook what my mama gave me with the bass pounding in tandem with my pulse. The multicolor lights flashed across the faces of everyone on the dance floor as I scanned the crowd. A honey of a girl ground her ass up against me. I dropped my hands to her hips and let the music move us. Her friends eventually disappeared and it was just me and her for the next half hour.

By the bar, I spotted Flip with a group of people fawning all over him. Thankfully, Emery wasn’t one of them. But if she wasn’t hanging with Flip like she said she was, where was she? My head twisted around, searching the bar for her. It didn’t take long to spot her in line for the bathroom. Her eyes were on mine. Her lips quirked when our gazes collided. I lifted my chin in acknowledgement. Her eyes dropped to the girl grinding up on me. I shrugged, knowing nothing else I did would make me look like the guy she once knew. And, at that moment, it sucked not being able to give her that guy.

Emery’s gaze wandered away from mine, and I felt like the fuck up I knew I was most of the time.

“Are we gonna head back to your house?” my dance partner yelled over the music.

I glanced down at her. “Ummm.”

“Or we could go back to my place,” she said with a sly smile on her bright red lips.

I glanced to the line for the restroom. Emery wasn’t there. I hated myself for even looking over there when this girl was willing to go home with me. This was high school all over again, and I was feeling guilty for being with other girls. There was nothing wrong with it. It was natural. But knowing I had Emery in my life always made me feel guilty. Maybe it was the fact that she used to like me. Maybe I didn’t want to hurt her. But now, we were both grown. And her crush on me was clearly over. So, why did I still care?

I looked down at the girl I’d spent the last half hour dancing with. She was smiling at me. She had a cute face. A nice body. But I did what I’d always done when Emery was in my life. “Sorry. I’m not looking for this to go any further than the dance floor.”

The girl’s mouth opened then closed into a tight line. If ever a person were to haul off and punch me, it should have been her at that moment. But she didn’t. She spun away from me, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.

The music suddenly changed to a party anthem. The noise in the room reverberated off the walls as the whole bar jumped around and sang along to the lyrics.

Someone tapped me on my shoulder and I turned around.

Emery stood there, her eyes dancing with amusement. Her skinny jeans and sparkly black tank top made her fit in with the rest of the girls in the crowded bar. But she wasn’t just any girl. “What’d you do?”

My eyes narrowed.

She ticked her head over her shoulder. “To make her ditch you in the middle of the dance floor?”

“I told her I wasn’t taking her home with me.”

Emery stared at me, her brows drawn. “Why not? Isn’t that what you college football players do? Get girls to go home with you?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. You wanna come home with me?”

She laughed and her entire face lit up like it did when we were younger. And that right there. That was the reason the other girl wasn’t coming home with me. She didn’t look at me like Emery did.

The thought hit me hard, nearly leveling me.

I wanted to be looked at the way Emery looked at me—like she saw the real me. I deserved that.

“If that’s your game,” Emery said. “I can see why it’s not working.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She nodded. “A girl likes to feel wanted. She doesn’t want games. If you don’t plan on taking it past the moment, make it clear to her.”

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