Page 12 of Scoring Truth
“The NFL team.”
I slowly close my mouth, realizing he must be some big shot at the front office.
“Penelope, do you watch football at all?” A smirk dances across his face.
When I shake my head no, that smirk widens into a smile. He drops his head close to mine and whispers in my ear. “I’m their starting quarterback.”
I snap my head back and connect eyes with him. “You?”
He fakes offense. “What? I’m not big enough? I thought you said I looked like a bodybuilder!”
His teasing has a calming effect on me until his name is called out again.
“Jameson, are you excited to be Super Bowl-bound or what?”
My body locks up again. Super Bowl. I know what that is. This can’t be happening.
This guy plays football. I know nothing about football or sports in general. How did this dating site match us? He’s clearly the jock, and I’m clearly the nerd. This isn’tThe Breakfast Club.
As Jameson calms the crowd, he doesn’t let go of my hand. He’s brought everyone away from the front windowand has somehow gotten himself closer to the back of the store, placing me a step behind him. It’s not a hideaway move; it’s a protective move.
I squeeze his hand, then slip out of his hold. “It’s okay. Do what you have to do. I’m right here.”
He pauses for a moment, studying me. I can see his thoughts flitting across his mind. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry about this, but it won’t take long. Just…don’t leave…promise?”
He’s watching me with eyes that beg for understanding. I nod and give him a reassuring smile. “Go be a quarterback.”
He huffs a short laugh, shakes his head, quickly grabs a chair, and guides me towards it.
Sitting down and taking out my phone, I watch as Jameson works the crowd with ease. He has a natural ability about him that calms everyone and makes them feel important. The first person he speaks to is a young boy, maybe ten or twelve years old. The kid is watching him in awe.
Jameson is easily over six feet tall, probably closer to six three or six four, but he kneels down and curls inward to not be opposing. He speaks softly to the young boy and takes his hat off. One of the guys working behind the counter hands him a permanent marker. Jameson signs his own hat and hands it over to the boy, who may pass out. Smiling to myself, I snap a quick picture and send it off to my girls.
Me: Do you know who Jameson Winters is?
Taylor: Fuck yes, I do! He’s only the hottest QB in the league
Mia: T, this is P we’re talking about. Pull her from under herrock and spell it out for her.
Suzanne:
Taylor: You’re right. P, there is this game called football. They throw an oval-shaped brown ball and try to score points.
Me:
Mia: Why? You suddenly realize we live in a football city?
Taylor: OMFG!!! WHERE ARE YOU!!!!
Me: I’m having coffee with Jameson Winters
My phone immediately lights up with a FaceTime call from Taylor. Laughing to myself and turning my volume down, I answer by saying, “I see you got my picture. Don’t freak out. The room is small, and there are lots of people around.”
“I’m bringing the others on. Don’t hang up,” she replies quickly.
I watch Jameson move with grace as he signs autographs and smiles wide for pictures, while Mia and Suzanne join the call.
“If you don’t flip that phone around right now, we are no longer friends,” Taylor threatens. Rolling my eyes, I click the little phone icon, and I see her face light up the minute her eyes connect with the back of Jameson. Instantly, I turn the picture back around to me.
