Chapter 5

5

Rush

I was having the perfect practice until Wings and I collided and he ran over my ankle. Not his fault. My mind was elsewhere. Like on that dark-haired beauty who continues to take up space in my head.

It’s like she lives there now.

Rent-free.

Although I cringe at the thought of running into Evie outside the bakery, Adison didn’t get all weird about it. Some girls would’ve asked a million questions about what happened between us— maybe would’ve even been jealous of Evie flirting, but not Adison. And the best part was she didn’t pepper me with questions.

The way Adison kissed me after ice cream sent my body into overdrive. Her lips were so gentle, and she was meek. Mild. Almost like it was her first kiss. She’s so incredibly shy. I sort of have an unwritten law. Don’t get involved with freshmen and don’t mess around with virgins. It basically spells trouble.

She can’t be a virgin though, right?

I hold in a groan as the trainer, Doug, examines my ankle. He manipulates the swollen extremity and I wince.

“Thankfully, it isn’t broken, but I want you to stay off it for the weekend.”

“At least it’s a bye week.” I sit up on the examination table. “Will I be able to play against Northern?”

Doug makes some notes on his laptop. “Next weekend? I would think so. Let’s get through this weekend first… look at it again on Monday. Go home tonight and get some rest. Tomorrow, I want you to stay in, and keep this elevated with some ice. Got it?”

“I have to meet my tutor tomorrow morning.”

Doug shakes his head. “Nope. You stay put tomorrow.”

I groan.

If I miss one of Adison’s tutoring sessions, she may bust my balls. Or worse yet, tell me to hit the bricks. Since she isn’t much into sports, I’m not sure my swollen ankle will appease her and her iron-clad schedule.

I’m fucked.

I wake up and barely move my leg and I’m reminded of my ankle.

Shit.

I texted Adison last night, told her about my ankle and how I’m confined to my room. Icing it, elevating it— all that. Against her better judgment, I’m sure, she agreed to come over and do the tutoring here.

Our house mom, Pat, brings me a breakfast burrito and helps me get settled in on my bed. A pillow under my foot with an icepack.

Pat has been a house mother here, according to her, for far too long but we know she loves it. In her mid-fifties, Pat usually spends Thursday through Sunday nights with us in her own room on the first floor. She shows up a few other nights a week and hangs out.

“Anything else, Rush?” She closes the door on the small refrigerator in my room that I use for snacks and drinks. “Looks like you have plenty of water bottles. Just text if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Pat.”

I drag my backpack up to me and dig through it for my math book and completed homework.

My phone buzzes and after ignoring him for days, I’m positive who it is without even looking.

“Morning, Dad.”

“Morning. I just got home from eighteen holes. How was practice this morning?”

“Yeah about?—”

“You talk to coach about the things I texted you? I think it would really help your game, son.”

“Not yet. I?—”

“Since you’re on a bye week, what’s coach got you all doing today?”

I wince. Not at the pain of my ankle though. “I had a little mishap on the field yesterday. I’m icing my ankle today. Keeping it elevated.”

“What the hell happened?” Dad lets out a sigh. “What’s the trainer say?”

“Just stay off it this weekend. Keep it iced and elevated today. Make sure?—”

“You sure they’re taking good care of you? Do I need to make some calls? I could make some calls to?—”

“Please don’t make any calls. Yes, they’re taking good care of me.”

The rest of the conversation with my father was mostly my assurance to him that I would get adequate playing time, that the ankle wasn’t too serious, and an injury could ruin my chances to go pro. And just because the Rebels is his home team doesn’t mean I couldn’t enter the transfer portal and find a team who could guarantee more playing time.

His exact words. Guarantee more playing time.

I wish I could just be honest with him— tell him some days I feel insecure about my ability and I’m not sure about going pro. What if I don’t make it? He might be embarrassed if I fail. If I become a physical therapist or an athletic trainer, he may never get over it if I didn’t try to go pro. He’ll be convinced I blew my big chance.

I end the call and take a deep breath.

There’s a tap on my door. “Come in.”

The door squeaks and Adison peeks her head in. “Hey.”

“Come on in.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “Everything okay?” She steps into my room and closes the door. “You look upset.”

I roll my eyes. “Just my dad. It’s always stressful talking to him.”

She sits on the edge of my bed next to me. The vanilla and strawberry scent she’s wearing swims around my head and practically makes me dizzy.

“You don’t get along?” She puts her hand on my knee.

“It’s not that. Since he used to play football here, he always feels the need to get involved in everything I’m doing. When it comes to football anyway.”

“Not always helpful?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Definitely not.”

She rises and I let out a sigh.

I immediately miss having her near me—her warm touch and her sweet scent.

I wish I could bottle this girl.

She moves around to the vacant side of the double bed. “That’s tough.” She sets her backpack down at the foot of the bed and gathers her books.

“Are you ready to get started? she asks, her smile turning my negative thoughts to positive ones.

What is it about this girl that puts me at ease? It’s like when I’m with her, I’m not sure I’m even breathing— like my body can’t operate when she’s around. She has her long brown locks pulled up into a loose ponytail and she’s wearing jean shorts and a tight red shirt. She slips off her sandals and I can’t help but get a look at her long legs.

“How’s the ankle?”

I shrug. “Same. Thanks for agreeing to come over.”

She looks around the room.

I pat the spot next to me on the full-sized bed. I prop a few pillows up against the headboard. For a split second, I think about the sound the headboard would make while I’d grind into Adison.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

She swallows hard. “On your bed?”

I reach behind me and pull out a pillow. “I promise I’m harmless.”

Reluctantly, Adison sits on the bed and swings her legs over and situates herself against the headboard.

Her hair is still damp, and I fight the urge to run my fingers through her long tresses. Hopefully, I can concentrate enough to get through this session without ravishing this beauty who captures all my thoughts.

Adison

Rush looks like man candy on his bed with an ice pack on his ankle. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a tight black T-shirt.

He pats the empty spot next to him. My heart flutters in my chest and I bite my lip.

“Come on,” he encourages as he taps the bed. “I promise I’m harmless.”

But the question is: Do I actually want him to be harmless?

You’re in over your head this time, girl.

Rush reaches behind his head and pulls out a pillow. “Here.” He tosses the pillow to me. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I bite my lip, fluff the pillow, and prop it against the headboard.

Am I really sitting on the bed of the biggest heartthrob of the Rebels?

My heart pounds out a love song in my chest and the butterflies in my stomach flutter to the beat. I take a deep breath and open the math book.

“Ready?”

Rush gives me a sexy smirk. “Am I ready? I’m always ready, baby.” His eyes drop to his crotch.

My face burns. “For math , Mr. Radcliffe.”

He lets out a laugh. “Oh?” His eyebrows raise and he grins. “Math? Is that why you’re here?”

Warmth floods my body, and my nerve endings light up and zap my heart.

I take a calming breath and open the math book. “Turn to page 96. Section B. I hope you studied these.”

How am I going to get through an entire session with Rush? On his bed? In his sweatpants that fit a little too snuggly for my comfort.