Page 61 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“How was practice?” I mute the TV, watching the show from the corner of my eye as I listen to my dad.

Dad’s feet slow, and he looks over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at me. “Are you feeling okay? I just checked your forehead, and it wasn’t hot.”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re not only asking me about my day, but you’re asking me about football, and that’s a subject you hate more than the patriarchy.”

I shimmy down farther into the seat, feeling slightly salty about the observation. “Sorry for showing some interest in your work since it’s the only reason I’m here in the first place.”

That makes him turn around, and he sits on the coffee table in front of me. “Never be sorry, Belly. I’m just joking. For a second I thought you might be getting more interested in football after watching the playoffs with me all month.”

Groaning, I paw at my face, wishing I could scrub that memory from my brain. Yes, I sat with him while he watched the games, but in reality, all I did was flick through random social media sites, hoping Drew’s face would accidently pop up so that I had an excuse to stare at it.

It never did. Only if I ventured onto college sports pages, then his face was everywhere, but that brought a whole new level of weirdness to my timeline. You know you’ve ventured too far down the college sports algorithm when it’s recommending Covey U’s Bass Fishing team as something you might be interested in.

Lightly tapping my cast with his foot, Dad smiles. “Boot comes off in two days. How do you feel about it?” It’s a nice segue into a topic other than his football practice that I’d usually appreciate, but not today. Today, I really wanted to know what Drew was up to.

I wriggle my toes, watching my red nail polish dance. “My heel still feels a little sore, but I’m looking forward to getting back on campus and seeing my friends instead of hanging out with you, old man.”

He chuckles. “You think you’re all sunflowers and roses to be around? If I have to watch another pointless episode of this show, I might take up baseball so that I can throw a ball at ninety-five miles an hour at the TV.”

Dad’s phone rings, and he sighs when he looks at the number. I fall back onto the sofa, letting him take the call, and notice him gritting his teeth. “Yup. No problem. Thanks anyway.”

“Everything okay?” I ask when he’s finished the call.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just can’t find a place for the team to watch the playoffs tomorrow. It’s the last weekend, and our tradition is to watch it together.”

“But you’re St. Michael’s head coach, and it’s for the football team. Surely bars would be fighting over your attendance.”

Dad smiles sadly. “Yeah, but people are fickle and have short memories. No one is happy I didn’t get them into those playoffs this year, and I guess this is my punishment. Usually, I’d have the team over, but I didn’t think you’d feel comfortable with at least sixty players in the house.”

“Oh.” If only he knew just how comfortable I was with a certain player, he’d drop his whole team in a heartbeat. Swallowing my guilt, I know what I have to do. “You should throw it here.”

Dad’s shoulders lift along with his eyebrows. “No, Belly. As long as you’re here, this is your house, too.”

“And I want you to throw your party.”

“Well, if they do come, I’ll make the basement off-limits.” It takes him barely anytime to come around to the idea, which makes me think this was his ploy all along. Guess he didn’t count on me getting hooked on one of his players.

I wave my hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll come and watch the game with you guys.” He raises a brow but doesn’t pick up on my desperation, thankfully. It’s the first time I’ve ever actually wanted to be anywhere near the team, and it’s only because I haven’t gotten any new information on Drew. St. Michael’s missing the playoffs means there’s less talk of him in the news and more talk about where Jacob Miller will end up in the draft. So, I get a lot of pictures of Jacob, and although he’s nice to look at, he’s not Drew.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had time to realize that I made a huge mistake the night he came to see me. I was too hasty and had made my mind up before really understanding the consequences. I should have listened to him, but I wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say. I didn’t want to know how he felt because it would mean I’d have to face my feelings too.

Those feelings have been punching me in the face for my stupidity ever since.

Ultimately, I got scared. I was too afraid to take a risk with him because, apparently, I didn’t want to be happy. Drew made me happier than I ever thought I could be in Indiana, and it’s only now that I’ve been without him I can admit that.

He hasn’t tried calling since the night I watched him leave, and even though I should take it as a hint, I can’t accept that we’re done. We’ve waited too long, and it’s too soon.

Chasing guys isn’t something I’d normally do, but for some reason, I’m okay with chasing Drew.

Dad can’t hide the smile on his face because he thinks he’s won me over. “If you insist. I’ll start making arrangements now.”

“Can’t wait.”

Well, this isn’t going as planned.

“That throw suuucked.” Jonah, a defensive lineman, groans. He pushes his elbow into me, trying to talk to his buddy Justin on my other side. “I can’t believe we got beat by that.” Picking at the label on my drink, I make a grunting noise to pretend I’m interested. I should have stayed downstairs like my dad suggested, but no. I had to be stubborn and be in the action.

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