39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Tripp

We've lost our third game in a row. Easy come, easy go. The Upstate Cosmos are now 5-3 and dropped to third in our division. There's still lots of time before the playoff picture, but no one wants to lose like that.

It's worse when the games are close, like the last two losses. Sometimes, your opponent has everything clicking and going their way. We had some questionable calls against us, but that's part of the game.

The thing I can't stop thinking about is my dropped pass from today. I bobbled what would've been a touchdown in the end-zone. Not only a touchdown, but a winning touchdown. Fuck. That one stung.

Luckily, this game was against the other New York team. While it's technically an away game, we're taking our team charter bus, instead of a plane, back to our facility.

Willow watched the game at my mom's place. When Wendy doesn't travel, she hosts.

My heart squeezes thinking of Willow. When I'm not with her, I miss her. Even though she's meeting me at my place shortly, it's never soon enough.

We may be on a losing streak but things with Willow are fucking incredible. She has clothes at my place, stuff in my bathroom, and a carafe of peppermint tea in the fridge.

Schedules are tough but we do what we can to see each other. Even if it's for just a few minutes before one of us is falling asleep while the other is talking. Sometimes, I just like occupying the same space as her .

We're asking her parents to come to the city for Thanksgiving. No matter how shitty of a day I'm having, I can think to one of my favorite holidays, and what it will be like this year, to put me in a better mood. The thought of Willow and I hosting a holiday together… my god. My mom is thrilled to meet her parents and also probably to have a holiday where it's not just the two of us.

I walk into my apartment and see fresh flowers on the counter.

"Mr. MVP," Willow says while walking towards me in the doorway. She wraps me in a tight hug.

I've always been a competitor. It sucks to lose, but this is the first time I've had someone to come home to. Instead of throwing myself into solo film review or a rogue gym session, I have someone instead of something. I never considered having someone, not like this. The thought is startling but in a good way.

"Sorry about the game," she says into my chest.

"It's okay. Part of the gig."

"You'll get ‘em next time." She claps me on the shoulder like she's one of the guys.

"Right," I say before kissing her forehead.

"Are you sure you still want to go out for dinner?"

"Absolutely. I'm starving and would love a distraction." I take my arms and run them down her back until I reach her ass.

"I've been known to be a good distraction," she says, kissing me.

Seth drove us to dinner which gave me time to decompress and sit with Willow in the back seat. Before Willow, I'd be in such a sour mood, and wouldn't be able to do anything after a loss like that. I'm not thrilled about it, but there's other things to focus on. I'm focusing on being grateful.

"Ugh. This isn't ideal," Seth says from the front when he's stopped at what I'm guessing is the side entrance. "It seems like word has spread."

Restaurant staff are trying to get the press to step back from the building.

"What do you want to do, baby?" I ask Lo.

"I mean, the media isn't inside. Let's not let it ruin our plans."

"You got it."

Seth puts the car in park and walks over to my door. He opens it for me, I come out, and then reach for Willow's hand. She steps out wearing a forest green top paired with a black pleated skirt, and a black leather jacket. I've never paid much attention to fashion trends or clothes, but she always seems so effortlessly cool.

When she's out, I quickly kiss her temple and whisper, "Babe, you look so cool," I joke—my go-to compliment when I love her outfit.

There are lots of cameras and what I would call standard yelling. No one is screaming anything super inappropriate. To be honest, there's a lot of people asking about the loss today, which I'll take over screaming about Willow.

When we get inside, the manager is already apologizing up and down. They have no idea how it leaked that we were coming.

"Hey, it's no problem. I appreciate your staff out there trying to corral the herd." I laugh trying to get this poor man to relax.

"It really isn't a problem," Willow chimes in. "Let me know if my security team gets to be annoying. Seth is awfully stubborn."

"Follow me and let's get you to your table."

The restaurant insisted on a bottle of wine for the table. I don't typically drink during the season, peak muscle recovery and all that, but red wine sounds like a necessity at this point .

"We'll take your recommendation for a Cabernet Sauvignon," I say, knowing this is also one of Lo's favorite wine. "Two glasses."

"Oooh, what's the special occasion Mr. Owens," she jokes.

"Dinner with you is always a special occasion." I reach over and hold her hands on top of the table.

I used to see people do this and I'd make so much fun of them. Like, is it necessary, the touching in public? Now, I get it. The want to touch someone, constantly. Be as close as possible.

"Tell me about your meeting with the label. What's the latest?"

"Latest is they want me to finish at least three more songs by Wednesday. That way, we can start recording in the fancy studio. They're also trying to get me to sign a new contract." She rubs the top of my knuckles with her thumbs.

"Trying?"

"As long as they do what they promised, I'm happy to sign an extension for a few more years, but there's a few things I need to be sure of. Like the tour dates, cities, venues. Ticket prices. Basically, the things they pushed on me before letting me take this album in a different direction."

"That's smart. Are you excited to start planning a tour?" I feel like if I was an artist, this would be one of my favorite parts.

"I am. Mostly because it's going to be so different." She beams as she talks about her new album. It's contagious.

We're into our second bottle of wine and waiting for dessert. The wine is giving us a pleasantly heavy buzz. Willow's cheeks are flushed from the wine and my own hurt from smiling. Tonight was just what I needed .

There were even a few of her fans that came up before any food was at our table. If there's something I love, it's watching this woman interact with people who adore her as an artist. She's always so kind and willing to sign anything, take photos. They're all respectful and it's fucking amazing to see.

I pour more wine in our glasses.

"I have a question for you," she giggles with her pink cheeks. "Do you hate when people scream ‘Don't Tripp' when you have the ball?'"

"No, I don't hate it. I've heard it ever since I was in high school. Opposing teams used to make shirts and wear them to my high school games. I mean, it's a great pun."

She is cracking up which makes me do the same.

And then Willow's face shifts. She sits straight up, scrunching her forehead and squinting her eyes before they're as big as the plates waiting for our dessert.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

She sighs in annoyance. And before I can try to see what she's looking at; someone stops at our table.

"Dexter, what are you doing here?" she asks through gritted teeth.