Chapter 6

I wave as Landon's older model Civic pulls out of Eli's driveway, and the second they're out of sight down the driveway that curves up the hill to Eli's house, I slap a hand against my face.

Why can't I be the guy that's smooth when he's talking to girls? Why can't questions and conversation topics come to me easily? Or even just a little bit easier? I was so obviously nervous that Layla caught my tics at least twice. I saw it in the sympathetic look she gave me.

And asking her on a date? Literally just after both Eli and Landon had told me that I had to take things slow and friendly for a while to prove to Layla that she could trust me.

I have never understood why my intelligence on the field doesn't translate to confidence in social circumstances. The only reason Mrs. Van Buren ever became my friend was because she came right up to me at the adopt-a-grandparent event and took charge in the conversation. My worry and overthinking were the reasons my parents got me started in sports in the first place. They wanted to give me something that required focus and discipline, to be able to train my mind not to run away with me. And that worked—on the field, at least. I can read Eli and the line so easily when I'm in a game. I see every movement, translate every twitch and react the way I should.

But when I'm talking with Layla—with anyone, really—all of that goes out the window. More than anyone else in my life, I can't read Layla. I don't think that's an accident. She might be a beautiful, intelligent woman, but the Phantom Hex, of all people, shattered her heart. He took advantage of her as much as a person can. He took so much from her, convinced her that he loved her, and then walked away. I'm not one of those guys that goes all melty over babies, but I can't understand how anyone could walk away from Margot. Even I wanted to ask to hold her, but the competition was fierce tonight.

Well, according to Landon, Phantom Hex has never met Margot and probably never will, but still. How can he know she's out there and just … ignore it?

I get into my Bronco and head home, tapping one hand against my collarbone and then the other as I drive. It's a trick I learned from the team therapist to take my brain off all my overthinking.

When I get home, I settle on my couch for a couple episodes of LA Lights. I don't want to stay up too late, but my brain needs to settle before I attempt going to bed anyway. I'm ten minutes into the episode when a familiar face pops up: Layla, in a pair of cutoff shorts and a Rays jersey, of all things, opens the door when Detective Leclair and his partner knock on the doors of the neighbors after a murder.

I lean forward, grinning at the screen, and not just because she looks that good in a Rays jersey (even if it is Hurley's), and her long, tanned legs in those shorts.

She's good at it. Her conversation with Detective Leclair is natural, and the chemistry is popping, enough that jealousy pricks in my chest even though I know this is her job. I get why she's chosen not to hustle after acting jobs after having Margot, but it's a shame. It feels like she's right on the verge of breaking out.

I clench my fists. If Phantom Hex had stayed with her, done the right thing, she would've gotten the jobs she deserved, I feel sure. Sometimes it is about who you know.

It's not the best choice I've ever made, but I binge all four episodes that Layla appears in, and then a fifth and sixth hoping she'll show back up. It seems like a given that they'd make her a regular with how well she and Detective Leclair played off of each other.

Then, as I'm finally drifting off, I remember that I know a guy from the network, and maybe someone I know can make a difference here.

Sunday's gameagainst the Denver Devils is a blast. They have one of the worst defenses in the league, so everyone gets in on the fun. I get just over a hundred yards rushing, and some of the trick plays we get to run leave me with a grin on my face. Everyone on the team is happy once we reach the hotel where we're staying. I head over to Eli's room to celebrate the win with him and a few other guys from the team already hanging out. Mark Travis is out on the balcony of the room on the phone, probably talking to his family. That's one of his post-game rituals. When I see one of the offensive linemen, Zane Dalton, I head over to him. He was one of the guys that popped into my head to set up Layla's co-worker with. He dates a lot, and I happen to know through team gossip that he's single.

"Great game, Dalton." I high-five him and settle into a chair next to him.

"Thanks, man." He grins at me. "You're welcome for the Swiss cheese we made of the Devils' D-line." He chuckles.

"Many thanks," I say with a laugh. I try to think of something else to talk about. Dalton has so many good plays that come to mind from today, but I don't need to sit here and praise him like a devoted fan. Even if I am. Listen, my success is dependent on his working hard to clear the path for me, so to speak. I'm president of the Rays offensive line fan club.

So I dive right in. "I have this friend," I say. "You interested in a blind date?" I'm already pulling out my phone, since Dalton will want to know what she looks like right off. I pulled up a picture of Astrid from her Instagram profile on my way over to the room, just in case.

"You don't want to set yourself up with her?" Dalton raises his eyebrows.

"Actually, I'm interested in someone else. We're the instigators of this blind date." I hold up my phone. "Her name is Astrid, and she's an actress."

Dalton smiles as he peers at the picture and then straightens. He's going to say yes. Astrid is very pretty. She's got nothing on Layla, but she has curly blond hair and golden-brown eyes.

"She works in Eli's sister's bakery truck part time," I go on, "and since I'm a regular there, I happen to know she's very nice and sweet. She even slipped me an extra brownie last week into my order."

"Sure, I'm game," Dalton says.

"Layla and I will double with you guys—as friends, of course," I add so he won't say something about my interest in her on the date. She'd have to be blind and deaf not to notice my crush on her, so I doubt it's a secret. I'm just hoping the fact that she hasn't given me any encouragement is because of what Landon and Eli told me on Friday night and not because she has zero interest in me. "Just so it's not awkward, you know," I finish.

"Sounds fun." He holds out a fist, and I bump it with mine. "Let me know the details, and I'll be there."

I relax, grateful that Dalton made the conversation so easy. Hurley comes into the room and heads in our direction. He falls into conversation with us, doing more praising of Dalton than I did. Hurley had a couple nice long receptions thanks to the protection of the O-line giving Eli time to pass, and with Hurley in on the conversation, I'm relaxed enough to joke with them about being in the O-line's fan club. These guys are like my second family, and Hurley, Eli, and Mark are like my brothers. They make it easy to fit in with them, even when I feel like I'm floundering. Especially the way Hurley leads the conversation right now, taking all the pressure off me.

If only I could figure out how to be this guy, calm and collected, with Layla.