Page 20 of The Game Plan

I want her to want me. I’d settle for friendship at this point, though of course I’d be thrilled if she wanted more than that. I’m not the kind of guy that girls want to go out with. I’ve never been that guy. I went to my high school homecoming only because I played in the football game. I didn’t go to any of the formals or dances. I skipped my senior prom because no girl would ever want to go with me and it was easier to pretend I didn’t want to go than to face the disgust on their faces. It was difficult enough talking to girls in a non-romantic setting, much less trying to ask them out.

The good thing about college is there aren’t any stupid formal dances with required attendance. The closest thing is our annual end of season football banquet, and even then, nobody blinks twice if we show up without a date.

Am I only interested in her because she defended me? I really don’t know.

I don’t think so. I was attracted to her from the get go, from that awkward interaction after the football game and at the frat party, way before I even knew who she was. Still, I know it won’t go any farther than us studying together. There’s simply no way someone like her would ever be interested in someone like me.

And isn’t that a kick in the pants. I can’t sacrifice my education in hopes it will make girls like me. I have to put myself first. Even if I’m only setting myself up for disappointment in the meantime.

We meet in the same study room. Sam is fresh from a shower, her wet hair pulled back into a sloppy top knot. Her cheeks go pink when she sees me in the small room.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says.

I glance at my watch. It’s 7:01.

“You’re not.”

She slumps into the chair across from mine. “I came straight from practice. Fuck. I hate conditioning days. I can’t wait until we can get back out on the field.”

“I know what you mean.” Offseason training is the worst. My fingers itch to just get out there and do it.

“Do you have any fun plans for your weekend?” She pulls out her notebook and textbook, her eyes conveniently not meeting mine.

It’s only Wednesday, but for most college students, the weekend starts on Thursday, if not earlier. Some people have week-long weekends.

“Football game.”

Sam nods. “Yes, but aside from the game? It won’t take up your entire weekend.”

“Dinner with my parents.” We meet every Saturday after the game. It’s our little tradition. They used to take me out after games all through high school, too. It was our special time together, away from the craziness of day to day life.

“That’s great that they live close enough that they can come visit you,” she says, a bit wistfully. “My parents only make it out once or twice a year. It’s hard. I miss them.”

I cough. “What about you?” My cheeks are flaming red. “Your weekend?”

She sighs. “Not sure yet. There’s a frat party on Saturday I’m supposed to be at. I don’t know. I haven’t been in the partying mood lately. My friends and I aren’t really talking right now.”

My stomach drops. “Because of me? The other night?”

She nods, a quick jerk of her chin. “They’re being assholes, and I don’t really want to be around them right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She offers me a tentative smile. “They’re the jerks. I don’t want to associate with people that stupid.”

“They shouldn’t be giving you shit for hanging out with me.”

“They know nothing about you. They shouldn’t make assumptions and believe rumors,” she counters. She sighs again. “I don’t want to talk about them. I have to deal with them enough at home.”

I crack open my textbook and, after a moment, she follows suit. We go over today’s lecture until she has a good grasp on the material, and she feels confident enough to complete this week’s homework.

“How do you feel about dinner?” she asks around eight-thirty.

“I already ate.” No loss of appetite today, thank goodness. “I’ll sit with you. I have enough room in my budget for a snack.”

Her smile makes my heart skitter to a stop. “Great.”

We pack up and head downstairs to the dining hall. It’s pretty sparsely populated, which is good. Ideal. Not as many people here to make fun of me this time.

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