I went home and took Luna out for a walk. Then I met a bunch of the guys at a local bar to celebrate. Dallas, Double-D, Kincaid, and Stevie were all in a booth—along with Kimberly Dresden, Dallas’s girlfriend. They cheered when I approached and handed me a Seven and Seven, my favorite drink.
“About time you broke open this season,” Kim said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were hiding an injury from the Stallions trainer.”
“Nothing injured but my pride,” I said, sipping my drink. “Feels good to be back in the saddle.”
Kim gave me one of her smug looks. “Can’t help but wonder if it has to do with some baggage you are no longer carrying.”
Stevie let out an “Ooo,” at that. Dallas nodded and pointed at me.
“I won’t lie. My shoulders feel a lot lighter this week,” I said.
The guys all laughed and made jokes about Isabella. But Kim leaned closer and said, “You seem like you’re in a healthier place. I’m happy to see it.”
“Me too,” I said, clinking my glass against hers.
“Cheerleaders, man,” Stevie said. “I told you not to get involved.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “You warned me. And now you’re going to hold it over my head for the rest of the season.”
“Season? Bro, I’m holding this over your head until the end of time,” Stevie said. “It’s not often I’m right about something like this. Gotta enjoy it while I can.”
“I dunno,” Double-D said. “Seems like Brody was eyeing another cheerleader today. That pretty redheaded thing in the front row.”
“That’s not just a random cheerleader,” Dallas said, leaning forward in the booth. “That’s the girl he met playing trivia this summer.”
“I thought she gave you a fake number?” Double-D asked.
“It was just a misunderstanding,” Dallas said. “Women don’t give Brody fake numbers. They only do that to creepy linemen.” He gave Double-D a sideways grin.
While they joked back and forth, I pulled my phone out. I had a text.
Taylor: Great job today! You were so good! I’m glad I had a front row seat for your performance. Do it again next week!
Taylor: Oh, and you’re all over SportsCenter!
I smiled and tried to think of a response. Before I could, Double-D snatched my phone away.
“Dude!” I said.
“It’s rude to be on your phone while you’re with friends. Taylor… That’s a guy’s name.”
“There are plenty of women named Taylor,” I shot back. “Like Taylor Swift.”
Double-D’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “You’re texting with Taylor Swift?”
“That’s Taylor Fox, the redheaded cheerleader we were talking about,” Dallas said.
I reached for my phone, but Double-D held it away from me. “Good. You don’t want to date Taylor Swift, buddy. If you think your breakup with Isabella was embarrassing, it doesn’t hold a candle to having a girl write a song about you.”
“Give it back,” I said.
“Hold on, hold on,” Double-D said. “Let your good buddy respond for you. They didn’t call me Dougie Smooth at LSU for nothing.”
“Somehow I doubt anyone ever called you Dougie Smooth,” Stevie replied skeptically.
“Pfft. You don’t know.” Double-D tapped on the screen and then read out loud: “Thanks, baby cakes. Glad you’re watching me on SportsCenter. How’s my ass look in HD?”
“Don’t send that!” I said, but then I heard the swish sound of the text being delivered. I groaned.