and a bell pepper out of the fridge and set them down before grabbing an onion and a cutting board. I go to work dicing the vegetables as I recap the fight for Rose when she makes a crack about the bruise around my eye. I don’t feel it much yet, but I have little doubt that will be the case tonight, while I’m here alone, and Liv’s in Texas.
“Wow, it smells good,” Liv says, coming out of the bathroom wearing a pair of tight jeans and a shirt that follows all the curves my hands and lips did last night.
I want to ask her what is going to happen. I want to ask her to stay and spend spring break with me—no classes and shortened practices and a very long list of things I want to experience with her—doing to her.
“My flight’s on time,” she says.
I nod. “You should eat, and then you’ve got to finish packing.”
She nods, her gaze skipping from me to Rose and then back to me again. “You’re right.” She comes into the small kitchen and grabs three plates, setting the tiny table as Juliet meows and weaves between her legs like she’s making the same pleas for her to stay.
When we pull up to the airport, I shift the Tahoe into park, leaving the engine running as I move to grab Liv’s suitcases and set them on the curb. Traffic is busy, people saying good-bye all around us.
“Let me know when you get there,” I tell her.
She nods. “I will.”
“Don’t forget to tell all your friends about how good the coffee is and the potstickers. And how awesome we all are. You might want to leave the gum wall out … and the curses.”
She laughs. I knew she would. I needed to hear the sound—break the tension. It ends too quickly. “I know football is really important to you, and your dreams of the NFL mean a lot, and you’ve worked really hard—but please, don’t get injections. Don’t push yourself. You’re going to recover. I have no doubt. But don’t let them think you need to do this because you’re worth more than spring league.”
I slide my hands onto her waist, gripping her hips. “Are you telling me I’m worth keeping for a whole season?”
Her smile returns. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
I lean in so close my lips brush hers as I tell her, “Oh, you will.”
She closes the small gap, her lips sealing over mine, and I don’t waste time deepening the kiss. My tongue sweeps along hers, my hands kneading into her sides. She moans softly, her hands fisting my sweatshirt as our tongues duel in an attempt to leave the best memory.
“I’ll see you in ten days,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers.
She nods, her breath tickling my lips. “Don’t let Juliet sleep on my pillow.”
I kiss her lips again. “She might out of spite.”
She kisses me. “I’m going to miss you.”
My shoulders sag. It’s ridiculous how badly I needed to hear her admit that. “I’m going to miss the hell out of you, too. But it’s ten days. Have fun. Sharpen that Texas accent you claim to have lost, eat all the good food, and then get your ass back here.” To me.
She nods again, her lips wavering with a smile.
I kiss her one final time before she grabs her bags and disappears into the airport.
My thoughts are like a deck of cards being shuffled as I make the drive to Brighton. Thoughts of Liv keep coming to the top and are then pushed to the bottom with concerns about how this conversation about the fight going to go. Coach is going to be pissed.
I imagine Liv writhing at my touch.
The asshole from yesterday coming at me with something to prove in his eyes.
Liv crying my name.
It’s strange how life can be so good and so awful at the same time.
My knee burns as I enter Coach’s office. I’ve spent numerous hours in here, discussing plays and deciphering the best offensive moves for upcoming games, watching tape, and setting goals. However, the familiarity is absent with the presence of Coach Craig and two older men wearing suits and a woman who appears in her mid-thirties wearing a sports jacket and a look of impatience as she checks her watch.
Coach Harris stands. “Take a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk.
I take a look at the group collectively and then individually