“Let’s get Jarvis out here,” Coach says. “And Philip.”
My eyes go wide. Coach shrugs like he’s not trying to kill me out here. Fullbacks Jarvis and Philip don’t take it easy on anyone, not even me. With good reason. We’re here to dominate, not fuck around. I was always grateful for the way they put their hearts into practice because I knew nothing could mess me up in the actual game, but now? Now I’m fucking petrified. I stare at them as they jog over to the field. They’re both going pro, no doubt, and I’ll be proud of them for it as long as they don’t kill me out here.
“Let’s go, twinkle toes,” Jarvis says, grinning.
“Fucker.” I narrow my eyes.
“You need to toughen up,” he shoots back. “They’re not going to take it easy on us this weekend.”
I nod. He’s right. They’re all right. It doesn’t make it any easier though.
“Come on, Cruz. You can outrun us easily. Outrun us with the fucking ball in your hand,” Philip adds.
Jamal sets up. The rest of us follow suit—Phil and Jar ready to double team me, and me ready to catch the damn ball and run like hell. Payton lifts the ball in his hand and rocks back. I start running the route, cutting left, Payton launches the ball as Jarvis and Philip rush me. I catch it, cradle it, and run like hell. They’re right on my tail, I hear both of them practically breathing on me, but it doesn’t matter. I make it past the touchdown line and throw my hands up.
“You always work well under pressure.” Jarvis bumps my fist with his.
“Let’s go again,” that’s Coach B. “Bring out the rest of the team.”
“Coach…” Tucker’s eyes widen. “We already practiced with Jordan.”
“And now you’re all going to do it again together.” Coach shoots him a pointed look. “Or are you here to make jokes and perform the entire Hamilton musical?”
“No, sir.” Tucker looks at his feet. Payton, Jarvis, and I stifle a laugh.
Tucker’s been singing that damn musical for two years now and today’s practice has been no different. This time, when the team comes back, Jordan also joins us on the field. He looks at me as if making sure I’m good and ready, and I give him a nod. Fear or no fear, I was born ready.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jo
“Are you going to the game today?”
I swivel around to see Jagger standing in the threshold of the kitchen. He’s wearing sweat pants and a Giants t-shirt. I haven’t seen him in days and it feels like weeks, and I realize that I miss him. I miss his lips on mine and his hands exploring my body. I miss talking to him, too. I just . . . miss him. I swallow back those emotions because casual and missing someone don’t go hand in hand.
“I work.”
He nods once before walking into the kitchen and going to the coffee maker.
“You’ve been busy lately,” I say.
“So have you.” He doesn’t look up at me when he says that.
I’ve been busy trying to avoid him more than anything. The whole casual thing isn’t working for me anymore and I don’t want to be yet another girl who falls for Jagger, but it’s hard not to. I also don’t want to be Jessa in this situation, who brings it up and then is tossed aside for good. I need time to think about this and if it takes me all week, it takes me all week. I already decided that I need to officially cut all of my loose ties. I’ll forgive what needs to be forgiven and move on from Lawrence for good. I’ll come clean to my mother about the accident and make her swear not to make a big deal out of this. I’ll figure out where Jagger and I stand and how to cut him loose if we’re not on the same page. I just can’t handle anything that will lead to more regret right now.
“At what time do you get off work?” He stirs some cream into his coffee and meets my eyes.
“Seven.”
“What are you doing after?”
“I have to take care of something and then nothing.” I shrug a shoulder.
“Jordan’s having a party.”
“So you’ll be busy tonight.” I offer a small smile and hope it’s not shaky.
I would offer more, but I agreed to dinner with Lawrence tonight so that I can finally give him the signed paper and put everything behind us for good. Dinner at the bar, so there’s no confusion about it. He’ll come right after my shift, we’ll have dinner and talk, I’ll give him a revised version of the NDA, signed, and then we’re absolutely done. I added a clause that says I won’t talk to reporters or write a tell-all about our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep his name out of my mouth if someone asks me a direct question that I actually want to answer.