“Yes.” Her eyes are bright. I swear they’re twinkling, like she’s amused. “I do. Want to go to dinner with you.”
With that, she turns on her heel and disappears into the swelling crowd. I watch her blonde head move through the clusters of people until she gradually disappears, and the moment I lose sight of her, I’m off to find a bathroom, where I can take a quick piss and assess the situation.
Minutes later I’m at the sink washing my hands, staring at my reflection, wondering what she might see in me. I’m all right looking. Not movie star handsome like Jordan Tuttle, and I’m not classically handsome like my teammate Tucker McCloud either. Those are the two most popular players on our team—the ones who the ladies scream and cry and generally freak the fuck out over.
Me? The one thing I’ve got going for me is my body. I’m tall. Broad. Muscular. Probably intimidating, though I don’t mean to be.
Well, that’s a damn lie. I try my best to intimidate every motherfucker I face out on the football field.
Sometimes I’m a little awkward, like I don’t know my own strength, which is true. I have to be careful so I don’t scare the ladies. And while I realize I’m not the guy to make all the girls’ panties wet, I do know I’m okay looking.
I guess.
/> Turning my head this way and that, I check out my profile. I shaved carefully tonight, so there aren’t any stray hairs. I have a few scars I don’t even notice anymore, I’ve had them so long, but did Susanna notice?
Did they turn her off?
She’s leaving with you, dumbass, so she must see something in your ugly mug.
I stare into the mirror straight on, my gaze dropping to my crooked nose. Broke that more than once, and I’m probably going to need surgery on it eventually. My hair has grown darker over the years, most of the dark blond from my youth gone, though my mother constantly tells me I should dye it.
Hell no. I’m not that vain.
Overall, I’m nothing special. Not really. Just a hulking mass of flesh, that’s about it. And there’s plenty of other guys in the NFL—hell, in any professional sport—who look just like my ass.
So what’s this fancy British girl see in me?
I dry my hands and haul ass out of the bathroom, thankful it wasn’t far from where Lady Susanna Sumner—damn, that’s a mouthful—last saw me. The room is even more crowded now, and the dull roar of conversation and clinking of glasses is starting to make my head hurt.
I want out of here. Stat. More than anything, I want to find a small, cozy restaurant with tiny tables—or even better, tiny booths—so me and Susanna have to sit nice and close to each other and there’s a candle on the table and the light flickers across her beautiful face and…
Yep, I’m getting way ahead of myself. Caught up in my own fantasy. First things first, I gotta find the star of my intimate dinner fantasy before I can hightail it out of here.
But I don’t see her pretty little blonde head anywhere.
Defeat smacks me in the chest, and my shoulders sag. Did she ditch me? I sort of acted like an asshole earlier, about her coming with her dad. Can’t blame her if she’s pissed at me, which means I guess I can’t blame her if she left the party either. I should ask Tuttle to give me lessons in class.
More like lessons on when to keep my mouth shut.
“There you are.”
I turn at the sound of her voice, smiling in relief when I see her. “Sorry, ducked into the bathroom real quick,” I tell her.
The light dims in her eyes a little bit and I wonder if that was a mistake, mentioning the bathroom. But damn it, we’re all God’s creatures, and we all gotta go. So what’s the big deal?
“Are you ready to leave?” she asks.
“Definitely.” I offer my arm to her, but she doesn’t take it.
“Isn’t there someone you should tell?” I frown at her words. “Someone you need to inform that you’re leaving?”
“They don’t care.”
“But this party is for you,” she says slowly.
“It’s for all of us. The entire team,” I return just as slowly. “I’m one of many. I’m not even the most popular one.” Not by a long shot.
She looks shocked. “Really? You’re not one of the most popular on your team?”