Page 89 of All Too Well
“Oh, I definitely think so.” My fingertips gently scrape the exposed skin by his collar. “I wonder, though ... which one you would’ve liked the most.”
“Why don’t you give me my options,” he suggests.
“Hmm.” I gaze up into his brown eyes. “We could go back to the bedroom, and I could show you.”
“Or I could strip you down right here and see if I can guess them.”
Not a bad idea. I lift up on my toes. “We have a limited amount of time. How about we do both?”
“Be prepared to be naked a lot.”
I grin and press my lips to his and then step back. I strip rightin front of him before he chases me into the kitchen, where we make very good use of the table, which definitely was my idea.
I’m so exhausted, but I’m sitting in Prose & Perk with unlimited refills and a very rough first draft.
Last night, Lachlan and I stayed up almost all night, just touching, laughing, and talking about random things and memories that have long been forgotten. We slept for a few hours before he had to leave to get Rose, and I informed him I wanted to come write.
I need to submit a draft to Mr. Krispen this week, and now that I have a game under my belt, I can at least write about that.
However, the focus of the story isn’t really about Frisbee, more about how young athletes who go on to play in college have skills that academic students alone don’t usually hone. I’m learning so much about the sports world and the different kinds of coaches. Each of the guys feel very different about their experiences which is giving me a very rich story that shows how strong and resilient they are.
I’m lost in my laptop, letting the words come, not caring about sentence structure, just needing my thoughts on paper, when I hear someone clear their throat.
I look up and see Killian there. “Hey, Ainsley.”
“Hi, Killian! It’s good to see you.”
He smiles warmly. “Do you mind if I sit?”
I nod quickly. “Of course not. Please do.”
“I know we were going to meet tomorrow, but I need to head up to our headquarters and didn’t want to stand you up,” he explains.
“Oh, no problem. Do you have a few minutes now?”
I really hope so because I need all the parallels I can get.
“Sure.”
“Great.” I grab my notebook, where I have my interviews with Miles and Everett, and glance through the questions again. “Iasked the other guys the same things, but I think your situation is a little unique. You were actually drafted, correct?”
“I was. I was drafted third round into the NFL and played one season.”
Incredible. “But you consider yourself not to have played since college?”
“When I say I played one season, I mean that I was on the roster. I never stepped foot on the field during that season. I trained, got my ass kicked quite a bit, and hated every fucking minute of it.”
“Wow.” I’m honestly shocked how many of them disliked the sport once they got to this point. “Why did you hate it?”
He rubs his chin before wrapping his hand around his coffee cup. “Have you ever idolized something or someone?”
Yeah, his friend.
I nod. “I think we all have.”
“That was all I did throughout college. I went to classes, got my degree in accounting, and was really apathetic to it all. I only cared about football. Truly cared. I was that guy up at four in the morning, first in the gym and last out. Being a tight end meant I needed to be able to catch, block, run routes, be a sort of jack-of-all-trades. I was good or at least good enough to be drafted, but once I actually got there, it was like the fairy tale ended. I didn’t want to spend sixteen hours a day focusing only on football. I didn’t want the stress of being afraid during training camp I’d get cut. It’s like living on adrenaline and stress, all day, every day.”
I jot down notes and then glance up at him. “There were no good parts?”
