Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(46)

The game ends when the Honey Badgers, forced to either punt or kick a field goal, take a long shot from the middle of the field that almost doesn't make it through the uprights, but still nets them three points and victory.

My shoulders slump.

"We should see if we can find Jason," I tell Dee.

"They'll be getting back on the bus to go home."

"Please?"

"Princess, you can't be seen by anybody. We need to get back or those angry Viking dudes that follow you around are going to start getting suspicious."

I sigh.

I text him.



Anastasia: Jason, are you all right?



I wait, my tension growing every second, for his reply.



Jason: You came. I don't care about anything else.



Anastasia: Yes you do. I want to see you. I have to go back to the college now.



Jason: In the morning. My week starts tomorrow, right?



Anastasia: Yes.



Fortunately for my nighttime excursions, Dee has a car. At least, it looks like a car. It is a Honda hatchback from 1992, and it takes her five minutes of grimacing and grunting to start it before it coughs to life and rattles for a solid minute, before it smooths out enough that she can wrestle with the gearbox. The seats are adorned with Lycra covers emblazoned with cannabis leaves, and the car smells of the McRib sandwich, thanks to the pile of boxes in the backseat.

Once we're off, I rest my elbow on the door and prop my chin on my hand, staring into the night.

"What's the matter, Princess? I thought you'd be happy."

"They lost. Jason will be hurt. It saddens me."

"He'll bounce back. They just need to buckle down a bit more. It's not like they got their asses kicked one-forty to nothing, Ana. It could have gone the other way."

"Hrmmph."

"That's not what's bothering you."

I let out a long, long sigh. We will be in the car for better than an hour.

"Want a McRib?"

"No."

"Okay, then tell me what's wrong."

"I agreed to date Jason for a week."

"That's what you wanted, isn't it? You like him. I don't know why, but you like him."

"He reads to me," I say softly.

"Okay, that's a little weird. Look, I'm not judging you. Honestly. I mean if he was down, I'd probably do him too. If you're going to lose your virginity—"

"It is not about that," I say, more harshly than I mean to. "No one has ever made me feel the way he does."

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," Dee says, "Easy, Princess. Sheath your claws. I'm worried about you."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to get hurt. You already know this thing has a time limit, right? It's not going to last."

"I do not want to think about that."

"So don't. Don't let it hang over your head. A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. I saw that in a movie."

I shrug.

"Have your fun. Have your week, then let it go if that's what you need to do."

"I am sick and tired of hearing what I need to do."

"I know. Just sit back and relax. Nap a little if you want. I got this."

I heed her words, kicking the seat back. It makes a soft sound of rustling McRib boxes and empty soda cups. I close my eyes, but I do not sleep.

By the time we get back to campus, it's full dark. Dee stops the car a block from my house. I hug her and step out, hands in my pockets, hood up, eyes behind darkened lenses, and make my way to the backyard to vault the fence.

Once I slip through the window and close it, I quickly bathe and change into my sleeping clothes, and sit on the bed with my laptop. I have been studying the game of football, reading about famous players and teams, learning its ways. I want Jason to be happy with me.

I hunch back against the wall and hold it in my lap.

I enter Ransom Kaye into Google. That is the Badger quarterback's name; I looked it up on the roster. There is a profile on him on the school website, but nothing I do not already know.

Perhaps if I search for Jason.

Jason Powell nets more results. I scroll down the page. It is not an uncommon name, so there are many unrelated news items, not about him.

It is a long shot, but I try Jason Powell Ransom Kaye.

Nothing. The results are even more jumbled.

I am about to give up on this silly idea when I realize I haven't tried an image search. I click the little tab, and the page fills with pictures.

Jason is younger and smiling in the top result. I click his image. It's a yearbook photo, from when he was in high school. It seems he and Ransom were on the same team and played together. Or rather, Jason was the starting quarterback and Ransom was his second stringer, his backup.

There's a picture of the two of them together. Jason's yearbook photo comes up more than once because it is on many pages.

The old news page is brief, and offers me little information, but what I read scours me like a whip nevertheless.



Delaware State Police this morning investigated an accident on State Rt. 15 north of Hartly. Lauren Powell (37) and Henry Powell (37) of Dover and a juvenile (name withheld) were driving in a 1999 Plymouth minivan when a 2011 Ford Mustang crossed the center line and struck their vehicle, which overturned and caught fire. The driver of the Mustang was a juvenile and his name has been withheld.