Page 46 of Trick Play
But even if we went to those places, it would lack the carefree attitude we would’ve had this time last year. And if I bought new makeup, Dad would ask who I was planning to wear it for, as though wearing it for myself isn’t good enough anymore. There has to be some ulterior motive, someguy, and remember what happened with the last guy?
And that’s why texting Cal is risky, even though it feels like my only option. I need to get out because I’m suffocating. But if they find out I’m seeing a guy, any guy, but especially this guy who really doesn’t like my brother, it’ll be a whole thing, and the concern will become more overt, and as much as I hate the subtle probing, the overt concern often takes the form of severe restrictions on my freedoms. And while yes, I’m legally an adult, I don’t have the finances to support myself, so I can’t just tell them to fuck off and leave me alone.
But it might not matter anyway. Because Cal’s not texting me back. And it’s possible that playing hard to get for so long has actually worked.
I should be happy about that.
But I’m really not.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cal
I’m just getting out of the shower at the gym when my phone buzzes with a text in my nest of clothes on the bench. Piper’s name flashes on the screen, and a surge of triumph and lust rushes through my blood.
She texted me.
She made the first move. For once.
About fucking time.
I can’t text her back right away, though. For one thing, I’m in the middle of the fucking locker room, and while right now my lower body is hidden, I’m already half hard just from seeing her name and the wordsHelp! I need a distraction…
And she knows I’m good for a distraction any time she needs one.
My shit-eating grin is irrepressible, and I keep my head down so no one else wonders why I’m walking around like I own the place. I mean, I should have the right to do that anyway, but I don’t need questions right now. Especially if her brother’s still around.
Hang on, why don’t I need questions? If Gray finds out his sister’s texting me to be her booty call, that’s exactly what I want, isn’t it?
So why does that feel so shitty all of a sudden?
Smile—and boner—fading, I finish toweling off and wrap the towel around my hips to head back to my locker, resolutely ignoring any bad feelings that seem to be bubbling up out of nowhere. Piper texted me. That’s a good thing, and I’m going to focus on that.
I make short work of pulling on a clean pair of joggers and a T-shirt, wanting to get out of here quickly so I can find out when Piper wants her distraction delivered.
But before I can make it out, Coach Miles, the quarterback coach, steps into the room and nods at me. “McAdam. Come see me in my office before you go.”
“Yessir,” I bark automatically, hiding the twinge of disappointment that I won’t be able to text Piper back immediately. Or better yet, call her. Her low, smoky voice has a way of making everything better.
But maybe Coach Miles has good news for me? It’s unlikely, but you never know.
Pulling on a sweatshirt and stuffing my feet into my shoes, I grab my bag and head over to the coaching offices, knocking on the open doorframe on my way in.
Coach Miles looks up from his clipboard and gives me a perfunctory smile, carving the smile lines deeper into his face, the grooves running from his bushy mustache down to his chin. Dude’s as old as the hills, and just as timeless. He was old when I was in high school, and even though Coach Hanson’s retired, Coach Miles is still here, chugging along. I guess I should be grateful that he wasn’t forced out—or worse, fired—when they brought Coach Reese on. I hate to admit it, but Reese has been good for us. Even if he brought that asshole Kilpatrick and several new coaching staff with him. At least Miles is still here.
“Glad to see you’re finally pulling your head out of your ass,” he says, gruff and to the point as ever. The man’s never been one to mince words.
“Uh, thanks?”
He glares at me through his faded blue eyes. “It wasn’t a compliment. You’ve been a shit all season. And you’re finally coming around. I want to see you for extra practice this afternoon. Go get something to eat and be back here in an hour.”
“Yessir.”
With a wave of his hand, he dismisses me.
Shit. I was hoping to see Piper sooner rather than later, but I guess that won’t be possible.
Still, at least I can call her and let her know what’s going on. With a smile, I hit her name on my contacts list, more confident than ever that we’re on the same page.
