My face split all the way the fuck open in a smile. I hadn’t heard her voice since that night at the track and field park. It had been fucking hell not speaking to her, but training was the perfect distraction. Then, the morning I left for Indianapolis, I got a message from Tori saying she believed in me and she wished me good luck. For some odd reason, hearing it from her meant more than the other calls and BBMs I’d gotten for the Combine. I was sure it was because Tori was an athlete, too.
So, hell yeah. It felt good having her answer my call, and finally, I replied, “Hey…”
“Well?” she snapped, sounding out of breath herself. “Boy, if you don’t tell me, I’m gonna punch the shit out of you when I see you. And I won’t care that your Prince of Zamunda ass bombed at the Combine.”
Still cheesing hard, my forehead wrinkled. “What?”
“Spence! I’m in the middle of training!” she screamed on me.
I rubbed my chest, enjoying torturing her, and wishing I had more time. “Girl, you know I kicked ass out here.”
A high pitch squawk cut through the line. My head pushed back in shock. It was so girlie, I had to look down at the name on the screen to be sure of who the hell I called.
“Champion human!” she screamed.
That was the best label she’d given me yet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
-THEN-
“You good, bro?” Al asked as we left the car and sauntered toward the house—I walked just fine; his ass limped.
My attention was on the three-level beach house before me. It was bigger than it seemed in the pictures Andrea showed me. Dope as hell, nonetheless.
“Yeah,” I answered Al. “I’m good.”
It wasn’t true. I was grumpy as hell and glad to have landed. These past few months had totally reshaped my life. I had no damn clue what was normal anymore. The transition from college student to soon-to-be professional football player hadn’t been kind to me. I had no classes and yet still no down time.
My personal life ceased to exist the moment I returned to BSU to begin training for the Combine. Once that was successfully completed, I was still in show horse mode. Blakewood hosted Pro Day last week. Just four days ago, we’d finished a day filled with the same measurable drills as the Combine, only this time, I did it alongside my fellow Panthers. Al performed, too, and it damn near killed his ass. Of course, I had more responsibilities and had to stick around longer than everyone else, which was why we were arriving at Macen Beach, South Carolina a couple of days after everyone else.
“I’mma drop my shit on the back deck and go take a dip in the ocean, my G,” Al announced behind me, to which I simply nodded.
I was restless and needed to dump my luggage in my room, so I headed into the house. The door was open, and the sounds of music from the back was replaced by blasting televisions.
“Oh, hey, Spence!” Karmen stepped out of what I quickly made out as a bathroom. “You and Al just got here?”
“Yeah.” My eyes swept all over the contemporary open-plan. “Where’s everybody?”
“You mean Aivery?” She pointed. “She’s out on the beach, tanning. She’s been waiting on you. I can go get her…”
“I’m good. Where’s my room?”
“You’ve got the penthouse. Everyone’s hating, so be careful.” She winked.
“Where’s everybody staying?”
“Ummm…” She turned around. “DJ Paulie and Jerome are couching it here on the first floor, between the living room and lounge. There’s a bedroom down here where Dre claimed his spot. Me, Aiv, Andrea, ShawnNicole, and Al are up on the second floor.”
I could feel my face go lax. “That’s it?”
“Oh.” She popped her gum, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “Tori and that mixed breed, Samantha, are splitting a room upstairs, too.”
My chin dipped. “Samantha?” I didn’t know she’d be here.
“Yeah. Her.” Karmen did a twirl, taking off for the back of the house.
Did that shit make me even more upset? I considered it, taking two steps at a time to the third floor, passing ShawnNicole on the way.
“You made it!” Her arms stretched wide, and I could sense her blotto right away.
“I did.” I nodded, snickering at her silly ass. “I see y’all got it poppin’ already.”
She smacked her lips, raising her colorful margarita glass in the air. “Yup. You know this Philly jawn gone get