Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Not willing to drop the subject, Diego continues to tail me—as if I don’t have enough shit on my plate as it is.
“Let me give you a little advice. If you don’t have the balls to tell a girl you’re not interested, you don’t have any business being on a team with us.”
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
I stop again, spinning on my heels. “The hell it don’t. We have to trust that you’re being honest with us, that you have the guts to stand up for what’s right, what’s wrong, and contribute with new ideas. You don’t get to be the team captain by silently sitting by and watching shit happen to you—you go out and make it happen. You take the good and the bad, and you make it work in your favor. You swallow the crap, take the heat, make hard choices.” I point at my own chest. “That’s what it takes to be a leader.”
“See! Exactly!” Diego has a giant grin on his dumb face. “That’s why I came to you with this. I don’t trust anyone else.”
I want to slap myself in the forehead. “Jesus Christ, you’re missing the point.”
This guy is exasperating.
“No, I’m not.” He hurries to catch up with me, the stark corridor beneath the stadium where we’ve been working out today a long and deserted one. Not too many people around since it was just special teams, thank God. I don’t need anyone overhearing this jackass asking me to break up with his girlfriend for him.
Diego puts his hand on my forearm as I’m about to open the door to the outside. “Bro. I’ll pay you.”
He’ll pay me?
Well, shit.
I’m not broke by any means, but I have a few expensive hobbies that my brother doesn’t exactly want to bankroll with my allowance, plus a Star Wars habit I can’t quit—among other things.
It’s not as if I can have a regular job while I’m playing college football.
1. They don’t allow it.
2. There is no time.
Now that I have an agent, I can do gigs and endorse products—and get paid for it—but it’s not like I can walk into the movie theater in town and tell them I want to pick up a night shift.
I let the door to the parking lot close.
Lean on the doorjamb and give Diego my full attention.
He says he’ll pay me?
“I’m listening.”
Chapter 2:
Ryann
“Dating is fun, darling, but I don’t recommend it.”
– Dr. Laura Winters, relationship expert
I am not the type of girl who inspires fantasies—especially in college-aged men. Especially popular ones. Yet here I am, dating one.
A popular guy, I mean.
But Diego confuses me more so by the lack of physical affection than the fact that he even asked me out to begin with.
We haven’t been dating long, but we’ve barely kissed, something I think about every day since our first date; I don’t know if it’s because he’s shy or polite, or if it’s because he’s truly not that interested in me sexually.
Trust me when I say: when it comes to that sort of thing, I’m all for it. He doesn’t need to hesitate to spare my sensibilities, or however you want to put it. My parents always taught me that physical affection is one of the most important forms of love you can show your partner, so I’m not sure why Diego isn’t showing it to me if he liked me.
Confession No. 1: It would be accurate to say I’m dating my boyfriend because he was the only guy who asked me out so far this year.
Worse? Half of that reason was because he plays football for the university and I knew I wouldn’t have to see him all that much. Because guys like that? They don’t have time to date.
Not really.
Not in the way that counts.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror before pulling my hair back into a ponytail, which is the same style I wear it in for work.
The green sweater on my bed is pale, brings out the color of my eyes, and will keep me warm on the walk since it’s cold outside and almost winter.
Cute bra (as usual).
Conservative underwear.
Not that anyone is going to see them…
A shame, really. My date is tomorrow, but there’s a chance he might stop by during my shift tonight, and I want to look cute—he’s done it once, so maybe he’ll do it again if he has time?
“Why am I doing this to myself?” I muse out loud while I swipe on some mascara. “He’s not going to stop in.”
Doesn’t stop me from putting in the effort.
And I still go on dates with him despite what little we seem to have in common, despite the fact that he’s not really my usual type and I’m probably not his.
What’s my type? Studious and funny. Clean-cut. Average build. The kind of normal dude who’s content staying home to watch movies over the weekends instead of going out—not one who’s on televised football games around the country, a guy who plays in front of thousands of people, then wants to go out and celebrate after a victory.