Blind Side(17)

“Bout’ta be beast mode this season, boys!” Reggie said, bumping fists with Dane first and then me. Dane was a safety, too, and we were always in friendly competition to see who could get the most interceptions.

“I’m coming for your record this year, Johnson,” he teased, holding his fists in front of his face and doing a little juke move like he was a boxer.

I sucked my teeth as I stood. “Fat chance, Daney Boy. You better make a comfortable home in that number two spot because you’re going to be there a while.”

The jokes and celebration continued until we all slowly meandered toward the cafeteria, where we had about an hour to eat, catch a power nap if we wanted, or do whatever else we needed to do before we reported for position meetings. This was the end of camp, the beginning of the season, and as grueling as it all was now, it was even worse once we were expected to do all this and pass our classes, too.

My chest tightened when I filed into the cafeteria flanked by Leo and Zeke and saw Maliyah in the food line with the rest of the cheerleaders.

I watched her as subtly as I could until she took a seat at one of the round tables near the windows facing campus. She’d let her hair down from the ponytail it was in outside, that thick blonde hair tumbling down over her shoulders. That sight tugged at my heart the way memories of California did, the way thoughts of Christmas with both my parents did. She reminded me of home, of my family and hers, of how we all melded together to form something I thought was unbreakable.

It was surreal, seeing her here, in my school, my stadium, with my school’s emblem stretched across her chest.

But it was hers now, too.

Sour disposition settled like an anchor in my gut. It felt like a betrayal, how she could tell me all through us being long distance how much she loved me, how much she couldn’t wait to be here with me, only to finally make it happen and then dump me like a bucket of dirty water.

Idly, I wondered if it was her father’s doing.

Cory Vail was a man I couldn’t help but respect. Not only had he stepped up and stepped in to help me and my mom when my dad left, but he was also one of the top lawyers in the state. He’d built everything on his own, and through that, he’d garnered a taste for the finest things.

He wanted the best — best cars, best wine, best seat at every show or game he attended.

And best prospect for his one and only daughter.

I always thought that was me.

Maybe it was, at one time. Maybe he saw my future and had faith in me going pro, in setting up his daughter with a future he found suitable. Or maybe he was just biding time, letting our young love run its course before he planted seeds in her head that she could do better.

Or maybe he had nothing to do with any of this at all.

Regardless, I knew my anxiety would never let it go. I’d toss and turn every night wondering why she so suddenly broke up with me.

But today, I needed my focus elsewhere.

It was an effort to peel my gaze from hers, and I schooled a breath, checking my watch.

Right on time, Giana walked in.

Her hair was completely dry now, those curls full of life and bouncing as she blew in through the door. She smoothed her hands over her skirt, righting her glasses as she scanned the room. When her eyes found mine, I saw the worry there, saw how her little hands curled into fists where she held her skirt, bunching the plaid fabric in their grips.

She was such a fascinating enigma to me, somehow shy and brave all at once. One moment she’d be having an anxious meltdown, and the next, she was all chin up, chest puffed, brow bent in determination like nothing could sway her.

I watched as it happened, as she sucked in a long breath, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. I wondered if she was giving herself a mental pep talk, but didn’t have time to debate it.

She tilted her head, just a bit, asking without words if this was it, if this was the time.

I nodded.

And then she took off in a sprint.

It was quite possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life, how her hair and skirt bounced along in sync with every step on her way to me. I watched as heads popped up table after table, my teammates and the cheerleaders and training staff alike watching as she barreled toward me.

Leo turned when he heard the slapping of her flats against the tile. “What the—”

But before he could finish that question, Giana launched herself into my arms.

I caught her in a whoosh of air and hair and a sweet scent that washed over me like a baptism, ocean breeze and sunflowers. Her arms wrapped around my neck, mine wound around her hips, and I felt the lace of her stockings as she crossed her ankles where they hooked behind me, the smooth skin of her inner thigh brushing against my waist.

She’d run at me with pure excitement and confidence, but the moment she was in my arms, her smile faded, breaths quick and shallow.

Her wide eyes locked on mine, fell to my lips, and then slowly crawled their way back up.

I squeezed where I held her hips, focusing on everything we’d rehearsed and not on the fact that she had her legs wrapped around me in a skirt — which meant other than a scrap of panties, there was nothing between us.

“You made it,” she breathed, her lips staying parted once the words left them.

When we’d practiced in her office a few days ago, we’d agreed she was supposed to say that louder, with glee and excitement. You made it! You’re on the team! But now, she swallowed, strengthening her grip around my neck as I wrapped my arms full around her and closed every centimeter of space between us.