Page 30 of Learn the Play
She knows this. She got to experience what my hands can do to her firsthand, but a little reminder never hurt anyone.
My Dream Girl: I’m sure.
Well, fuck. I toss my phone onto the cushion next to me. How am I going to be able to show her that I’m not her father if she doesn’t let me see her? It’s been five days since I laid eyes on her—five days since I’ve heard her voice. I went a month before, but then I didn’t know where she lived. She’s in my city, yet she still feels so far away.
Grabbing my phone, I’m about to order takeout, but instead, I end up hitting her contact and placing the phone to my ear. It rings, once, twice, three times before she picks up. I was starting to think she wasn’t going to.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dream Girl.”
“Reid,” she breathes my name, almost as if she’s both relieved and annoyed that I’m calling her. Honestly, I don’t think she knows which way she’s feeling right now either.
“How was your day?”
“It was fine.” She pauses. “How was yours?”
It’s the polite thing to do to ask me back, but she hesitated. “Good. I hit the gym for a lift session with the guys. We try to meet every day during the week about a month before training camp to get back into shape, and now, I’m sitting here, trying to decide what to do for dinner. My girl is busy washing her hair.”
She chuckles. “It’s a thing.”
“Oh, I have no doubt. She has beautiful, long, dark brown hair. I offered to help her, but she turned me down.”
“Maybe she doesn’t need a man to take care of her.”
“She definitely doesn’t need anyone to take care of her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” She doesn’t say anything, butI can hear her breathing change. “I miss you, Bell. When can I see you?”
“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“How am I supposed to prove to you that I’m not him if you don’t let me?”
Another heavy sigh from her. “We’ve been over this.”
“We have, but we’re still at an impasse. Let me bring you dinner. You don’t even have to eat with me. Just let me drop off dinner so you don’t have to cook.”
“I shouldn’t,” she says, and I can hear it in her voice. She thinks she shouldn’t, but she wants to.
Disappointment washes over me, but I’m not giving up. Shouldn’t is better than no. She needs to see that I’m willing to work for her time, and I am. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to spend more time with her.
“Can you look at your schedule and let me know when we can make plans to have dinner? Or hell, lunch or breakfast, even all three. Whatever you want. Training camp starts soon. I was hoping to see you before that started.”
There’s a silence that hangs between us. I wait, giving her time to come up with another excuse, and when she doesn’t, I speak again. Just one word. “Please.” I try to remember a time when I ever begged a woman for anything, and I’m coming up empty. Only my dream girl could pull that type of need out of me. It’s more than wanting to spend time with her. It’s a need at this point. I know there’s something more between us. I know that she’s scared, and that’s okay. I’ll beg, I’ll say please, I’ll keep showing up, because at the end of the day, that’s what she’s most afraid of. Me not showing up like her father. I’m not him, and I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll prove that to her.
“I usually take a late lunch, and that’s when you hit the gym with the guys,” she says.
Elation washes over me. She’s giving me an inch, and I’m taking every millimeter of that inch. She’s testing me, and that’s okay. I expect her to. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” More silence, because I’m certain that’s not the answer she was expecting.
“Tomorrow. One o’clock.” She rattles off the name of a small café that’s not far from the stadium.
“I can’t wait to see you,” I tell her. I’m not just blowing smoke up her ass either. I wish I could see her every single day.
“Are you sure you can make the time?” she asks. Something that sounds an awful lot like hope laces her tone.
“Yes.” No bullshit, no sweet lines, just the honest truth. I’ll make the time for her.
“I should go,” she says.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dream Girl.” I end the call, not giving her time to say her own goodbye or to back out of our lunch date. Part of me is fearful she’s going to try anyway. The other part of me is wondering if she works that close to the stadium. There’s so much I still don’t know about her, but it doesn’t change anything. She’s still, without a doubt, my dream girl.
