Page 39 of My First and Only Crush

I gasp.

Trick growls. “It wasn’t her idea.”

“I walked you to your room, you fucking asshole. I saw her—” He gestures wildly, and I think all three of us understand he means my clothes “—on your fucking floor. She was waiting for you.”

“And I invited her to stay once I found her.” Trick seems intent on taking the blame for this, and I can’t let that happen.

“He invited me to stay and eat room service food we’d both ordered. Separately. He didn’t try to seduce me. That was my idea.”

“It really wasn’t,” Trick counters.

“He was a perfect gentleman.” I sound desperate now.

“I sent you champagne!” My dad punches the wall, then winces.

Yeah, I bet that was concrete.

“We enjoyed it,” I whisper.

Trick starts laughing.

Then the whole hallway starts laughing, which only makes my dad’s expression all the more thunderous.

“We have a plane to catch,” my dad finally says, glaring at Trick. “Sinclaire, let’s talk for?—”

“She’s riding with me,” Trick says. “You want to talk to her at some point about this, that’s cool, but it’s not going to be right now after you made a scene in front of everyone. You’re going to walk it off, Jeff, and then you’re coming back to her with a different attitude.”

“Excuse the fuck?—”

“I’m not your player anymore, man. I’m retiring to be her man. This is how it’s going to be from now on, so get used to it. You want to talk to your daughter, you will do so from a place of respect for her as a grown woman.”

And then he takes my hand, and we keep walking.

* * *

I’ve only been on the team’s plane once before, that trip to Toronto at the start of the season, and that time I sat with the team staff in their special section.

This time, Trick leads me to the back of the plane, where we can see everyone but the only way people could see us is if they turn around.

He buckles me into the window seat, then fills the aisle seat beside me, blocking me off even further from the rest of the plane. From my father, and his teammates.

“Ignore them,” he whispers. Then he laces his fingers through mine and gives my hand a squeeze.

“It’s hard to.” My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since we got in the hotel elevator.

We took a separate car to the airport, not the bus the team organized. In two hours, we’ll touch down in Florida and I’ll have another reprieve from the heaviness of the unasked questions on this plane.

I’m painfully aware that if I weren’t on this plane, everyone would be partying pretty hard.

One by one, the players file onto the plane. At some point I hear my dad’s voice, way up at the front.

And then it’s time to take off.

The roar of the jet engines and the force pushing me back against the seat is a welcome distraction. We climb away from Texas, banking hard, and we’re over the Gulf of Mexico.

“Hey,” Trick whispers in my ear.

Then his knuckle lightly grazes my cheek, and I realize I’m silently crying as I stare out the window.

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