Page 69 of The Surprise Play
But spending time with Wily has made me realize that not all athletes are the same. And not all athletes are hardwired to pick on the uncoordinated fat girl who can’t catch a ball.
The guy beside me hisses, and I tune back in to what the commentators are saying.
“It’s not looking good for the Cougars. The gap is only getting wider, and they’ve only got one quarter left. Can they make this last fifteen minutes count?”
I cross my fingers under the table and start praying they do.
But my silent pleading goes unheeded.
The Cougars give it everything, fighting with a desperation that’s palpable… but in the end, they can’t close the gap and end up losing by five points.
“No,” my student whimpers, burying his face in his hands and… is he crying?
Okay, awkward.
What am I supposed to do now?
“Uh…” I lightly pat his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I thought this was our year.” He sniffs, looking up at me with glassy eyes. “I really thought this was our year.”
“I’m sorry.” I wince.
He sighs, his shoulders finally hitching before he slaps his computer closed and holds his hand out for the bud in my ear.
“Oh.” I hand it back and smile. “Thanks for letting me watch with you.”
“Yeah.” He sighs again, packing up his things and slumping away from the table, already texting someone else and completely missing my goodbye.
I stay where I am until he’s out of sight, wondering how Wily’s feeling right now.
Poor guy.
He lives and breathes football and probably had his heart set on winning.
He must be so gutted.
I wish I could text him and find out, but that’s not my place. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.
He was friendly to you the other day.
He stood up for you against Viper Girl.
My lips twitch as I relive his antics as a catwalk model. He was so sweet. Those tingles spread through me again, and I don’t bother fighting them. For just a second, I let them bubble and grow until my mind is consumed with the good-looking blond. His smile, those blue eyes, his big, powerful body lifting me off the ground.
No one’s ever lifted me like that before.
Well, not as an adult.
My dad stopped picking me up when I was like eight or nine.
My feet haven’t left the ground in over a decade.
But they did the other morning.
They dangled in the air because two strong arms held me tight against a solid chest and?—
My phone starts ringing.
