Page 109 of How to Score Off Field

I sit up again, not ready to do reps and have three hundred pounds of metal bearing down onto my chest. I don’t think I can withstand the weight.

Let it crush me.

I don’t care.

She’s been sick.

Fuck.

Everything in my gut is telling me it’s true.

Tess must be pregnant. I don’t know if it was her or a friend who sold us out but…

Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Drake asks, a frown marring his brow.

“I just…” My head shakes. “Feel a certain way about it.”

“Um. I would too if some chick I banged was tellin’ people I knocked her up.”

I shoot him a sharp gaze. He’s being loud, and I don’t need my teammates overhearing our conversation.

It’s fucking embarrassing.

And private.

Never have I ever felt so exposed.

People are staring; it feels like all the females in the room are watching us, whispering.

Great.

I can imagine what’s going through their heads—there is that piece of shit Colter who was dumb enough to be entrapped by a jersey chaser.

Well, little do they know that isn’t what Tess is.

But I can’t walk around with a sign on my back declaring otherwise. People are going to think what they think.

I push myself off the bench, grab my cell phone from the shelf where we keep towels and water bottles, and head for the hallway where I can make a call.

This time when I dial her, it only rings three times.

“Hello?”

She obviously already knows it’s me.

“Hey.”

I roll my eyes because I sound like an idiot. Is this seriously a way to start a conversation?

"Hey, Drew." Her voice sounds distant.

Not that I blame her.

Apparently, a shit ton has been going on in her world.

"Hey, Tess.” I have no idea where to begin, so I say, “I have no idea what to say right now.” Except maybe, “Is it true?”

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