Page 6 of Personal Foul

“And that is?” She raises her brow.

“I want to take you out for dinner.”

Reagan laughs. “Yeah, that isn’t going to happen.”

“Come on, Reagan, why not?”

She sits down and bites her lip. “Look, my life is complicated. I have work and my responsibilities at home. I don’t have time for much else, let alone dating. I’m sorry, but no. It’s nothing personal,” she says softly.

“I’m going to wear you down.”

“Good luck with that,” she scoffs.

“Just keep an open mind. I’m just asking for dinner, not your hand in marriage,” I tease, making her smile.

Reagan shakes her head. “Get out of here and shower. You smell.”

“It was great talking to you too,reina.”

I walk out of her office and back towards the locker room with a smile. She may have turned me down today, and she will probably do it again. But I’ll wear her down.

There’s one thing I know for certain. I came to Seattle to start fresh and change my lifestyle. It can’t be a coincidence that the only woman who made me think twice about settling down happens to be here.

Call it fate or destiny, but I think it was meant to be.

On the way back to my apartment, my phone rings. I look at the dash and see madre is calling.

“Hola, madre.”

“Why did you have to move across the country,hijo?”

I smile, despite the fact that my mother can’t see me.

“I was traded,madre. I didn’t have a choice. We’ve gone over this.”

I hear the pout in her voice. “I know, but you could have said no. Quit and stayed home. I know you love the game, but you could’ve become a coach or teacher. Eventually you’ll have to retire.”

“I know, but we’ve been over this. I want to do this while I can. This is my dream. I want to live it as long as the football gods allow me.”

I cringe at the string of curse words flowing from her mouth.

“You know better than to even hint at another god. Our God may be a forgiving god, but you shouldn’t test his patience.”

I barely hold in my chuckle. “I know, I apologize. I’ll make amends tonight.”

“How is that silly game of yours?” She sighs.

“It’s not sillymadre, but it’s going well. So far I like my new team.”

“It’s not realfutboland you know it,” she scoffs. “American football.” She says it like it’s a dirty word.

“You know my bank account loves American football,” I tease.

“Yes, but money and the game are not everything.” She pauses. “Now when can I expect babies?”

“I really have to go,madre. I just got home and need to make some dinner. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you,” I murmur quickly.

“If you had a woman, your dinner would already be waiting for you when you walk through the door.” I hear the smile in her voice. “I expect you to settle down soon, you’re twenty-eight. You’re not getting any younger. Love you.”

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