Page 84 of For Emery

He nodded and Em smiled, like she was bursting to say more.

I cocked my head in question and she just smiled.

What could I say? The crazy girl loved me.

* * *

“You guys better spill it,” I said, my eyes moving between Em beside me and my dad across the table. “You’ve been acting weird since we left the stadium.”

“Your dad has some news,” Em said.

I looked to my dad for an explanation.

He sipped his drink as I waited anxiously. “An agent approached me at the game,” he said.

“An agent?”

My dad nodded. “He wanted to know if you were going to the pro combine this year. I didn’t know what to say to him. You never mentioned it.”

My gut clenched. I had only told Em that Coach thought I might have a shot at the pros.

“Emery told me what your coach told you,” my dad said. “She said you’ve been considering it.”

“I seriously didn’t think it would really happen. So why get my hopes up? But I’ve been having a hell of a season. And I’m starting to think I could actually make it.”

“He said he’s had his eye on you for a while,” Em added excitedly.

“He has?”

My dad nodded. “It seems so. He’s pretty interested in getting you ready for the combine and then representing you when you show what you can really do.”

“Isn’t that awesome?” Em asked, noticing the shock on my face.

“He said on the surface you may not necessarily be a first-round pick,” my dad added. “But he believes you could be a sleeper pick for some of these teams.”

“You know I can’t take anything from him. Or commit, verbal or written,” I said.

“All he wanted to know was if you wanted to play professional football,” he said.

“And if I do?”

“He’ll be in touch after the season,” my dad said.

Holy shit.

* * *

I stood at the bar waiting for the beers and sodas I’d ordered. It was quieter than normal since it was Sunday night. I glanced over my shoulder to the high-top table where Em laughed with Sabrina and her boyfriend Crosby. I dropped my cash on the bar as the bartender placed my drinks down. I grabbed two in each hand and maneuvered through the scattered people milling around.

“What’d I miss?” I asked, sitting in the stool beside Em as I slid the beers onto the table in front of Sabrina and Crosby and the sodas in front of Em and me.

“Just telling Emery horror stories about you,” Sabrina admitted.

“Are you serious?” I asked Sabrina, but looked to Crosby for confirmation.

The traitor shrugged.

I reached over and cupped Em’s ears. “Earmuffs.”

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