Page 19 of Red Zone Realizations
While I sip it, I lean against the counter to text Noah. But when I open his contact, I have an overwhelming urge to call him. I can easily text to let him know I made it, but I’m still thinking about our conversation, sitting close at a tiny bar table, and how I never got to ask when he thinks he’ll be back to yoga after training camp. When exactly does training camp start? I could hit that call button and have answers to all my lingering questions…
I hit dial.
I don’t have to wait long. It only rings twice before Noah’s smooth voice answers. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I say, trying to hide how fast my heart is beating. Can he hear my blood rushing through the ear that’s pressed up against the phone? “I made it home.”
“Oh, good.” I can hear him setting his keys down. I imagine he kicks his shoes off next.
“I had a great time.”
“Is that why you called?”
I bite my lip. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
His low chuckle washes over me. “It’s a good thing.”
I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder while I put more water in my cup. “I just got home and thought to myself: I didn’t get all my questions answered.” Honesty seems like the best policy at this point.
Ironic, I know.
“Hit me with ’em.”
I head to my room and put Noah on speaker so I can get in my pjs while we talk. “When does training camp start?”
“The end of next week.” I can hear the rustle of clothing onhis end. If I imagine him rolling his shirt over his broad shoulders, then sue me. I wonder if he sleeps without a shirt. Somehow I now understand dudes who ask women what they’re wearing when they talk on the phone. I’m barely tamping down the urge myself.
“So that’s when you’ll stop coming to yoga classes? Why?” I ask.
“It’s a violation of my contract to do any physical activity not sanctioned by the team during the official season, which starts with training camp.”
Oh. It’s going to be a long six months of going to class and being disappointed that Noah’s not there in his usual spot against the wall. Part of me is screaming to tell him that. It would be so easy to just say it, but the other half of me is warning me away. This is a professional athlete. He’s busy, he’s contractually obligated, he’s… so hot. I quickly decided it’s better to keep these feelings as inside thoughts for now. “Are you excited?”
I can hear the hesitation in his breath, considering how he wants to answer. I climb into bed, sans teeth care—even though I never miss out on flossing—while I wait for him to speak. I’ll go back to the bathroom after we hang up and wash my face, brush my teeth, floss, etc. “I’m excited to see my teammates again. A lot of us live here, but go on vacation or travel to see family during the off season, so I haven’t seen some of them in a while.” He pauses again, seemingly to decide if he wants to tell me the rest of his thoughts. “But… to be honest, there’s a lot riding on this season. My rookie contract is almost up, and I need to prove my worth to the team this season.”
“What would happen if you didn’t?” I lie in bed, covers pulled up to my chin, just the bedside lamp casting a warmglow over the rest of my room. I set the phone on the pillow next to my head so I can relax and listen to his voice.
“Anything could happen. I could get traded, or I could become a free agent and have to go try out for different teams. If no one wanted me, I might not be on a team next year.” I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. That’s a lot riding on one season of football.
“I’m sure you’re going to be great. You could win the Super Bowl this year, you never know. It’s only just beginning.” I try to hold back my yawn, but it defeats me.
“You should go to sleep.”
“No, I want to hear more about football.” But I do close my eyes to let them rest. It’s well into the night now and I am tired, but with the morning coming quickly I want to hold on to this while it’s still just us. “Tell me about your regular day during training camp.”
“Well,” Noah starts, and I can feel the weight of sleep lingering over me, threatening to take me under. I can’t help but think back to earlier tonight when I felt Noah’s heated gaze on my lips as I took a bite of dessert, to later when he had me laughing over my beer at the weirdest bar I’ve ever been to.
There’s no reason an apology dinner should be the best date I’ve ever been on in my life, but here we are. That’s kind of sad, that no other date was as good as a dinner and drink. Considering I was previously engaged, I guess the bar is pretty much on the floor.
I have a feeling Noah will be making an effort to raise it.
The next morning starts way earlier than I’m ready for it to. When I turn my head, my phone hits me in the face. I pick it up and realize I’m still on the call with Noah. The duration of the call is over six hours and twenty-three minutes. I don’t know what time I fell asleep on him last night, but from the tiredness pounding in my skull, I’m going to guess it was late.
Do I hang up on him? Should I say goodbye first? What if he’s sleeping? What if he’snotsleeping and he’s just quietly sitting on the other side of this call waiting to see if I’m going to say something?
I hit the end call button and open my messages to send him a text, but I’m distracted by how many texts there are from Nicole.
Nicole
