Page 5 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“Isn’t it obvious?” He shrugs. “Your name doesn’t rhyme with theirs.”

Rolling my eyes, I push back on my heels to create some distance. “Why are you still here? You usually get the flighthome with my dad to talk strategy.” And that’s pretty much the main reason I always fly out a day later than my father, because hanging out with my arch-nemesis while my dad drools over his cleats has never appealed to me.

Drew drapes his duffle bag up over his shoulder. “I stayed behind to finish a paper because I thought I’d get distracted at home.”

His eyes drop to my lips, watching me purse them. Drew was nearly valedictorian of our graduating class, and he has to maintain a B average to keep his St. Michael’s football scholarship, so that excuse doesn’t add up.

His thumb twitches against the strap of his bag, caressing it gently, and I gulp. “Speaking of distractions. Where’s Brianna?” I draw out her name sarcastically because it always makes me feel a little less inferior. “She’s usually clinging to you like a bad smell.”

Brianna James is one of those girls that wakes up looking perfect. With a flawless face and boobs perkier than the Eiffel Tower, she and Drew make this obnoxiously beautiful pair. “Thought you’d want to finally introduce her to your family.”

“Keeping track of me, Belly?”

I roll my eyes. “Firstly, don’t call me that. That nickname is reserved for my father only. Secondly, when I see you on campus, I change directions. If I had the choice, I’d pretend you didn’t exist, but it’s tough to do that when yours and Brianna’s faces are plastered all over the school brochure.”

It makes me want to gag seeing their sickeningly beautiful faces smushed together, smiling as though somehow you could look as good as them if you attended St. Michael’s.

He shucks his chin, showing the slightest bit of his pink tongue, and shakes his head. “Nah, Bri and I are just good friends.”

Raising my brow, I give him a once-over. “Good friends? Like how Sabrina, Kat, Betty, and Trina were yourgood friendsin high school?”

Drew’s brows furrow, the faintest of lines appearing in the middle. “If you think I was dating all those girls in high school, you have severely misread the situation, but that’s beside the point.”

I stuff my license in my jacket pocket, and Drew grunts, eyeing me suspiciously. “What about you? Where’s your date home?” He makes a show of staring at the empty space by my side. “Oh, that’s right. You’veneverhad one.”

I want to kill him.

Gone is the wide-eyed, apologetic boy who threw a football at my head when we were thirteen, and back is the arrogant quarterback with girls begging for his attention on every street corner. “Just because I don’t flaunt my conquests, doesn’t mean I don’t have them. I’ve had plenty, thank you very much.”

It might be a little white lie, but I’m not about to let him get the better of me.

I dust off the lint on the bottom of my white jacket to distract me from Drew’s intense glare. Even when we were kids, he always had the ability to make me feel like he could see right through my bravado.

“Guys that ditch you to jack off to an avatar onWorld of Warcraftdon’t count as dates, Bella.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, flaring with rage because he just had to go and mention Jimmy Johnson, didn’t he? Yet another one of my major mistakes was finding out, along with the rest of the school at prom, that his best friend, who I just so happened to date for a year, was cheating on me with five other girls online. The worst part, Drew was the one that brought the whole team out to watch my embarrassment.

But this is why I hate Drew. His constant digs and frequent reminders of my past screw-ups make me want to throttle him in the throat.

“Or wait, are you talking about that guy you thought was asking you out in the library last year when all he wanted was to get to a book behind you.”

It’s true, my dating life had been less than stellar over these last few years, but it’s kind of hard to build up any meaningful relationship when your dad is the head coach of one of the best Division I football teams at the college that you also happened to attend. I’m not stupid. I know I’m off-limits, even to the guys who have nothing to do with football, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit at home being a recluse.

I lift my shoulder with sass, pushing past the guy I can never seem to get away from and say over my shoulder, “Whatever, Drew. I don’t have time to deal with this. I’ve got an Uber to catch.”

It’s a lie since I haven’t rebooked Dave, but I’m willing to use any excuse to get away from him. Flicking my skirt with a little more attitude, I silently rebook Dave as I walk to the airport entrance. If I book him enough times, eventually, he’ll accept my ride. He always does.

‘Good Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.’

The pleasant voice of the announcer sounds across the hall, diverting my attention to the giant speaker above the door.

‘Unfortunately, all flights have been canceled due to the dangerous blizzard conditions. The airport will be closing in approximately two hours to ensure the safe passage of all employees and visitors. We kindly recommend you make your way to the airport entrance and take advantage of the remaining taxis. We are also sorry for any inconvenience thisclosure may cause, but we hope you have a safe journey to your destination and wish you a happy holidays.’

Happy holidays, my butt. She doesn’t sound all that sorry about forcing me to miss Christmas or those five agonizing minutes I spent talking to Drew.

When the entrance doors slide open, the chill of the cold air whips my skirt up in a frenzy and my phone buzzes.

UBER CANCELED

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