Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,9
in my face. “You’re getting your ass out of this chair and changing. If you don’t, a few minutes from now, you’ll get your ass up either way since we’ll drag you outside.”
“I’m not interested in football!”
She rolls her eyes. “I know, I know. You’re not into athletes and blah, blah, blah… but this isn’t just any game. The Ravens are playing for the title of national champions. It’s a big deal. You have to go. Hell, even Cup It Up is closed for today since everybody will be watching the game.”
I hate it when she’s right. I wanted to pick up a shift, but Monica, the owner, informed me she wouldn’t be opening today because of the game. Apparently, her boyfriend is a huge fan, and they’ll be watching together, and she didn’t see the point in opening it up for business since nobody will be around to come to the shop. I see her point, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Stupid football game.
“Well, if everybody,” I make a point of drawing out the word, “will be there, then there really is no point in me having to go, now is there? I don’t even like football.”
Despise it is more like it, but I’m not about to expand on the topic any more than necessary. Callie is the master of twisting words to have them fit her agenda.
“But Hayden got us the tickets. Three tickets, so you have to go.”
“Which was really nice and totally unnecessary.”
I think Hayden is the only football player I actually like. After you overlook his creepy stalkerish factor, he’s a nice guy. And he’s really good for Callie, so it’s not like I can hate him.
Before she can say anything else, there is a knock on the door.
“It’s open!” Callie yells, just as it opens, and Chloe enters in all her black and gold glory.
“You guys ready?”
Callie narrows her eyes at me. “We would be if she wasn’t so damned difficult.”
Now two matching scowls are turned to me.
Well, shit.
The crowd roars loudly in approval as one of the players in black breaks away from the rest of them and starts running. And since we’re sitting in the black section, I guess that’s us.
It takes a moment for the rest of them to notice that the ball isn’t there, but when they do, it’s already too late.
Chloe squeals loudly, jumping up and down, and Callie is fist-pumping. The seats are shaking as what feels like all of the stadium gets on their feet and stomps happily.
Everybody but me.
Chloe must realize it too, because, she turns around to look at me. Her excitement is palpable, making her cheeks pink. Or maybe that’s cold. Because it’s freezing outside, and I don’t understand how anybody can play in this weather, much less why somebody would willingly pay to sit and watch for hours.
“How can you be so chill? We’re winning. Winning, Yas!”
“For all I care we could be losing, and I wouldn’t give a damn.”
They might have forced me to come, but there is no way I actually have to pay attention or enjoy the game.
Chloe’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around to see if somebody heard me.
“Shush, you! You can’t be saying shit like that; it’s bad luck.”
I just shrug. Not my problem, honey. “You should have thought about that before dragging me all the way here.”
She shakes her head. “What did football ever do to you?”
A memory that I thought long forgotten flashes before my eyes, but I push it back before it can fully form.
“It’s not what, it’s who,” I murmur softly, but fans are already yelling something, and my friends’ attention is back on the field, just like I want it.
NIXON
“Now’s our chance to seal this motherfucker down,” Prescott mutters from next to me as we watch our defense intercept the ball. Alec O’Brien is living up to his nickname, The Brick Wall, pushing through the opposing team like they’re merely irritating flies in his way.
“Hell yes,” Hayden agrees, jumping to his feet and loosening his muscles like he’s preparing for a boxing match and not to play football. “Let’s hope you have enough strength to throw a long one, old man.”
“The better question is if you can catch it, asshole,” I throw back instantly.
The crowd erupts into a loud roar as O’Brien’s tackled to the ground.
“Cole! Watson! Wentworth!” Coach’s bark draws our attention. “Are you done chatting? Get your asses on the field, now!”