Outside, I jogged toward the trail around campus. With so much going on, by the end of the day, I would forget all the Brooke craziness completely. At least I hoped it worked out that way.
* * *
At lunch, I found myself sitting next to Trey in the Student Center food court. Unable to hold my secret in any longer, I blurted it out.
“I was with Brooke last night.”
His eyes widened. I grinned and nodded my head.
“It was fucking incredible, man.”
“Coach better not find out. You’re supposed to be all football all the time.”
“Meh. I’m not worried about Coach. You’re not going to tell him, right?”
“Hell no, man. I learned that lesson. I’m really sorry about what happened with coach you know.”
“Yeah. You know what we need?”
“What?”
“Some old school bonding time.”
“Touch-football game? I don’t know…”
“Come on,” I said. “You can find some new fine young thing and then we’ll be even. I won’t have to worry about you telling, because I’ll have something on you.”
“You’re crazy,” he said, shaking his head. “But game on. I’ve been wanting to relax before the playoffs at the end of the semester.”
“Well, this is the best, sure-fire way to find a woman by the end of the day. I’m going to invite Brooke and show off a bit.”
“Oh, you’re bringing her to watch you lose, are you?”
“Funny man. I’m a winner.”
“Glad we’re okay man.”
“For sure,” I said, holding out my fist. “Brothers for life.”
He bumped his fist against mine. If the afternoon game went well, Brooke would get pissed about other women hitting on me during the game, and she would leave without me having to break up with her or anything. It’s not like we were exclusive anyway.
I needed to concentrate on the one thing that mattered most – football.
I sent Brooke a text message with an invitation to watch me play at the touch-football game.
“Watch?” she wrote back. “I want to play.”
I sent her a winking smiley face in return, telling her I would pick her up around five.
TWELVE
Austin
Fall football games were the best, especially friendly ones where there wasn’t any tackling. I pulled up to Brooke’s house in my Camaro, freshly cleaned inside and out. The smell of leather hung thick in the air, just how I liked it.
She walked over from where she had been sitting on the porch and got in the passenger seat. The jeans and grey sweatshirt looked well worn.
“My football clothes,” she explained when she saw me checking her out.