Playing Hard to Get(69)

His grin is knowing, like he’s fully aware I can’t concentrate when he’s near. “Kissing you, Jo Jo. I can get kind of fixated sometimes.” He kisses me like he can’t help it. “Pretty sure I’m completely obsessed with you.”





TWENTY-SIX





KNOX





I wasn’t lying when I told Joanna I can get fixated. When I was a kid, I would obsess about a lot of things. When I was three, it was Diego, Dora the Explorer’s cousin. Then I got hooked on Spider-Man and pretty much never looked back. Still love that dude and make sure I go to every movie that’s released on opening weekend.

Then of course, then there’s football. I’ve been obsessed with the sport since I was a toddler, watching my dad play. As I got older, I wanted to be just like him, and I worked hard at it.

Hell, I think I worked harder than my old man. I threw my all into it, making football my focus. My fucking life. By high school, I had college coaches desperate to recruit me, Dad by my side the entire time, coaching me. Making sure I chose the right university to play for.

I don’t regret my choice. This college, the team and the coaching staff have been a great fit. I’m on top of my game. It’s my senior year, and if we do it right, we’ll win a championship and play in a bowl game.

And if I’m really lucky, I’ll make the NFL draft and go on to greatness. Just like my dad. My uncle Drew. My cousin Jake.

I have big aspirations, and I’m determined to make them.

Which means I shouldn’t let a woman get in the way of all my hard work. That’s my biggest fear with getting involved with Jo. What if she fucks with my head and fucks with my game?

Right before practice I text my dad, feeling the need to check in with him.

Me: How are you? We haven’t talked in a while.

He answers immediately.

Dad: Sorry about that. We’ve been busy. Lots going on.

Me: Doing what?

Dad: House stuff. We’re getting rid of some things.

My dad is a sentimental person and he doesn’t like to get rid of anything so this isn’t normal.

Me: I bet Mom is happy.

She’s called Dad a packrat before, and she’s not wrong. He holds onto everything.

Dad: I realized your mom was right. I don’t need to hold onto everything.

Dad: How’s football going? I see you’re doing well.

It’s odd that they didn’t come to our last home game when they always do. But he told me they were going out of town.

Weird.

Me: We’re doing great. I miss having you guys there.

Dad: We won’t miss a game for the rest of the season. Even the away games. We had to take care of some things first.

Me: Like what?

He takes a few minutes to answer and when he finally does, I’m already in the locker room, getting changed.

Dad: We’ll discuss it next time we’re together.

Huh. That’s downright cryptic.

What’s going on with my parents? What are they doing? I feel like they’re up to something, but I have no clue what it is. They’re always so open with us and what’s going on with their lives. This feels completely out of the norm.

I don’t like it.

“You’re quiet,” Cam tells me as we both walk onto the field, suited up and ready for practice. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing.” I want to tell him everything. About my dad and his mysterious comments. About Joanna and what she’s like. How much I like her. How scared I am my feelings for her might mess with my head.

“Surprised I didn’t hear your precious little Jo Jo sneaking out of our apartment again last night,” Cam says, his voice as casual as he pleases.

I come to a stop on the edge of the field and so does he. Thank Christ there’s no one else around. “What do you mean?”

Cam chuckles, smothering the sound with his hand. “I mean what I said. I know you had a girl holed up in your room a couple nights ago. You don’t moan that loud when you’re alone.”

Shit. Since Cam never brought it up, I believed we were in the clear and he didn’t know.

Guess I was wrong.

“I won’t blow your cover though I should,” he continues. “Celibate, my ass.”

“We didn’t have actual sex.” I fess up because I’m weak, especially when it comes to Cam. He knows all of my secrets, not that I have many.

“So everything but? Sounds fun.” Cam runs his hand across his cheek, contemplative. “Gotta say, she’s not your usual type.”

“I know.”

“She’s a good girl.”

I shrug a shoulder, uncomfortable with the direction he’s taking this conversation. Because I know what he’s going to say.

“Not that you bang a bunch of bad girls, but you have a type. Hell, we all have a type. We like the ones who are looking for a good time. No strings attached.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “You know that’s not the type of girl Joanna is, right?”

“I know.” A ragged sigh leaves me and I grip the back of my neck with both hands, going quiet when a few of our teammates jog past us, heading for our regular meeting point by the goalposts on the south side of the field before we kickoff practice. “Here’s my problem—I really like her.”