Page 34 of Thirst Trap
“What are you doing here?” I ask, leaning in to give her a kiss as sounds of cheers begin to fade. But instead of tasting her lips, all I’m met with is her index finger, blocking my access.
I don’t know what I was expecting the first time I saw her again. But even if I had a hundred scenarios thought up, I definitely wouldn’t have picked this.
“We have to talk,Officer Sexy.”
My eyes grow wide at the use of the name.
The name I never told her.
Fuck my life.
It’s not that I wasn’t going to tell her about my decision to start making videos. It’s that I didn’t think it was a conversation to have over the phone. And since she was coming here this weekend, and she didn’t have the app, I figured that I had time to do it when she was here.
I was wrong.
“I can explain—”
She opens up her mouth to respond, and if she does, I don’t hear her. All I know is that someone is grabbing my shoulder and shoving me out of the way.
“See! I told y’all! It’s Whitley McAvoy! Y’all! Whitley McAvoy is here! In person! And she just told that girl off!”
It takes me a second to realize one of the men who shoved me is now standing between my girl and me. And it’s not just him. There are three. And they are looking at Whitley like they are seeing a celebrity in real life.
“Whitley, can we get a picture?” one guy says. “Is your brother here? How awesome would that be if Hunter McAvoy were here?”
“Do you know any inside info about the Fury? Is Bryce coming back next season? Where did he go?”
“Screw the Fury. How’s your dad? I bet he can still sling that football. Damn. This is the best night ever! Guys! This woman is football royalty! And she can win a cat fight!”
Their questions don’t settle down, and even though I’m standing right next to them, it’s like I’m on the outside looking in to an alternate reality.
The Nashville Fury? Football royalty? What are they talking about?
Whitley isn’t football royalty. I mean, I don’t think she is. Now that I come to think of it, I don’t know who Whitley is. Yes, we’ve talked about a lot of things, but every time we get close to talking about her family life, she shuts down. I just figured she had a rough childhood and didn’t want to talk about it yet.
Whitley McAvoy.
I roll the name around in my head before it hits me. Holy hell, is she related to the football coach of the Nashville Fury? He was a big deal at Alabama. I’m not even a Crimson Tide fan, but I know that. Hell, he made my team’s life miserable for four years. And if memory serves me right, his dad was a damn good player too.
These guys are right. She is football royalty.
I just stare at her as she politely takes a few selfies with these strangers. I might have been keeping a secret about myself, but it turns out I’m not the only one.
* * *
Silence.
That’s all it has been since we left The Joint.
Not a word as we walked to my truck.
Not in the ten-minute drive back to my house.
Not since she’s come in and sat on my couch.
And it’s killing me.
“So which one of us is going to go first?” I say, cutting the silence as I sit next to her. I make sure to keep my distance. I hate it, but I have no idea what’s going on in her head right now.
