“Most of them are assholes,” Isabella muttered. “It’s not technically against the rules to date a player, but you don’t want to get a reputation. Some girls take this job just to get close to the athletes, then split as soon as they can sleep with one.”
“Oh don’t worry,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I’ve never dated football players before. They’re not my type.”
Isabella chuckled. “They’re definitely my type! I’ve been dating one of the players for a month, actually. He’s much nicer than all the others, though. And it’s certainly fine for me to date one since I’m the head cheerleader. I’m not leaving the team any time soon!”
While she talked, a football player was walking over to us. I noticed him in my periphery but didn’t look over. After Isabella’s little talk about dating the players, I didn’t want to seem eager to look at one.
But something about this guy pulled my attention away. A familiarity that I couldn’t quite place. So I turned to look.
I almost didn’t recognize him. It had been over three months, and in a different context. He was shirtless and his tan skin glistened with sweat. The moisture made his muscles dance as he approached.
It was the guy from that trivia night. The one who had never called me.
It was him.