Page 41 of Cleats and Pumps

I nodded and smiled. Then I forced my expression into an angry scowl, stomped out of the office, and left without talking to any of the boys. That would drive the message home.

I drove to my B&B and turned on the television. I was so freaking bored. I went from working my ass off to being holed up in a small cottage on the edge of the desert. I didn’t want anyone to recognize me, so I didn’t go out, but damn, I was going to die if I didn’t figure something out.

Jake was handsome and rugged, in a way that athletes looked after years of using their bodies hard. If he wasn’t married, I’d have considered getting to know him better, but even if he was available, he wasn’t my type. I mean, my type was Tommy. I wish I’d figured out how to spend time with him. Oh well, too late now.

I turned the TV down, grabbed my e-reader, and opened my library to find something to read. I always had books I liked, knowing I could entertain myself between games. I’d been reading a lot lately, not having a job and not knowing what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

Reading allowed me to put the pressure away for a little while, at least.

I thought about the team. The boys were just regular kids who had spent too many years playing with their phones and not enough time working together. They were far from what they’d need to be to win a game, but I strongly believed they had the ability to play somewhat better.

I fell asleep thinking about what I could talk with Jake about to get the boys ready for the season. Mostly, they needed to exercise and build up their stamina. But they also needed to learn to work with one another.

That might be a bit more of a challenge. As my mind drifted toward sleep, I thought about Tommy. What would he suggest? Probably some bullshit team-building exercises.

I sat up in bed and grabbed my phone.

Me:Jake, dude, I’ve got it. Change of plans. I’ll meet you tomorrow during your planning session.

Jake:Okay, should I be concerned?

Me:Oh yeah, but it’s going to be epic.

Jake:Cool, I guess.

I knew Jake wasn’t sure about me yet, and why would he be? I had just observed him and the guys the past week. But if I got it right, I might be able to motivate the team and have a hell of a lot of fun.

27

Tommy

“Dude,ItoldyouI’m okay,” I said to Owen, feeling frustrated over his overprotectiveness.

“Well, you always say that even when it’s not true.”

“Listen, I’m writing, I’m trying to keep myself busy and I have a project I’m working on that’s… well, it’s what I need to be doing right now.”

He waited a bit then sighed. “Promise me you’ll come over at least once this week to hang out with us. I don’t want you getting too caught up… okay?”

“Whatever,” I said but smiled. I was lucky to have such real friends. He and now Jason really were that for me. People who I’d come to think of as my family.

When we hung up, I grabbed my laptop and went back to writing.

I became obsessed. I mean, it wasn’t hard. I tended to get hyperfocused when writing. The moment I let myself write my manuscript to include my feelings for Amos, everything fell into place. I wrote from sunup until sundown, only taking a break to visit my grandma at the nursing home.

My old mentor, Crusty, once said, “If you got some secrets or information you don’t want to get out, then write it on an old laptop with no fancy internet connection. You might lose your secrets to a hacker if you’re hooked up to the world wide web or some such.” It’d been good advice, and after a couple of colleagues had had their stories stolen by our rival magazine, more of us listened to him.

I documented all my emotions: I wrote how I felt when I first saw Amos, how Owen had all but twisted my arm to join the fraternity, and how I’d have quit if Amos hadn’t shown up.

I wrote how I had fallen for him even though we’d just been friends. I wrote how I longed for him when we’d been roommates.

I also wrote about how amazing he was at football, and how he really introduced me to the sport. My grandparents hadn’t cared much for it, but I had fallen in love with the game through him and because of him.

Then, I wrote about his unique ability as an actor and performer. I used examples of how he would rile up the fans, getting an entire stadium of tens of thousands of people to scream and yell, even those on the opposing team.

I leaned back in my chair and chuckled at the memory. I’d been reporting on Lewis Jenkins, a rookie on the other team, but Amos had done his crazy routine, and I remembered how much my heart swelled watching him that day.

He loved his fans. He loved the limelight that went with his career. It hurt my heart knowing he might lose it forever. That was a major reason this novel would never see the light of day. Amos wasn’t for me. I’d come to accept that he never would be, but I’d never do anything to jeopardize his career.

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