The Game (That Girl, #2)(45)

“Well, did you forget where your seats are?”

“Um, no.”

“Let’s go watch my brother get his ass kicked.”

“You’re staying?”

“There’s no way in hell you could pull me away from you right now.”

One hundred percent certain Levi is going to follow me, I head back down to our seats. I spot Lynlee and can’t wait to surprise her with our new guest. God, I hope she can keep her mouth shut. Lord knows I almost blew it.

“Lynlee, look, our cousin came to the game.”

She swings her head around and has about the same reaction I did, minus the kissing and hugging.

“What a coincidence, we have an extra seat,” she says in the most robotic voice I’ve ever heard.

We laugh at her attempt of playing it cool.

She wraps her arms around Levi’s neck. “I love you, Levi Ann.”

“You too, sis,” he says with a wink.

The third quarter begins, and Levi lets the crowd around him know who he is cheering for. Every chance the man gets, he hollers out his approval for San Diego. The only time he slips is when number twenty-two on Denver gets a pick or a tackle.

Levi dragged me into his lap at the beginning of the third quarter and hasn’t let go. I feel those hands I love so much roam beneath my shirt and rub the raised marks on my belly. The action is odd, but the sensation it sends through my skin is indescribable. Every time he moves his hand out of my shirt, I put it right back.

“I need to head out, baby.”

His whisper dances in my ear, and I close my eyes, trying to engrain this moment in my mind forever. The tears start to well up again, and I know how stupid and childlike I’m being. He’s not even mine, and I’ll be seeing him in less than three days.

I just nod because any other action is too painful.

“Nothing is going to go wrong. Quit thinking right now, Jazzy.”

Again, I can’t force a single word out of my mouth. Everything inside of me is trying to keep the tears at bay. Not now. This isn’t right. It’s Lincoln’s first professional game, and they are going to win for sure. Lynlee is on cloud nine watching him, and knows she’ll be able to stay the night with him. Now is not the time to be a selfish jerk.

“Here.” Levi hands me a package he pulled from underneath the seat. “I never want to see you in those f*cking colors again.”

A strange voice breaks into our conversation. “Hey, son.”

We all look toward the man standing at the end of our row. Lynlee clearly knows him, as she jumps up in his arms, squealing with delight. It doesn’t take me long to place him since he resembles an aged Levi to a tee.

Levi tenses next to me, and our fun afternoon has dissipated in an instant.

“Stop, Levi.” The pain covering his face is pure torture. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists. My words seem to pull him a bit from the darkness he was entering.

He kisses my forehead and heads for the stairs, giving Lynlee a brief hug while completely ignoring his own father.

“Oh, and Jazzy, I hoped you packed plenty of clothes.”

Levi pulls his purple floral hat down a little lower and continues out of the stadium. What did he mean by that? Why would I need plenty of clothes?

Part of me wants to go grab him by the hair, drag him right down here, and explain to him that he still has his dad while others don’t have one. He still has the chance to make memories with him, but then again, I don’t understand the whole story. Maybe one day I will.

“What did he give you?” Lynlee’s jovial voice breaks my concentration. Her face is beaming with pride while her hair is tussled by the light breeze.

I look back down to the bag. I pull out a number eleven Dallas jersey. A couple people around us heckle me with cheerful boos, but I don’t give two f*cks. Slinging off my Denver jersey, I toss on the Dallas one. I notice a note in the bottom of the bag.



Jazzy,

I can’t f*cking wait to get you back to my place. Three days with me, please?

Levi #11



Again his signature autograph closes the note out, and immediately I want to leave this stadium.

“We have to go, Lynlee.”

“No way. There will be a press conference. We can wait for Lincoln down by the locker rooms.”

“I’m leaving. Get a ride with your husband.”

I don’t wait for her answer and run for the car. Midway up the stands I realize I didn’t even say a word to Levi’s dad. How can I scold Levi when I was just as rude to the man?

I grab my phone while running down the stairs that lead out into the parking lot and dial Levi’s number. He answers on the second ring, and I’m totally breathless from sprinting.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Are you the little hottie running down the stairs in a number eleven jersey?”

A black limo is parked at the base of the stairs, leaving no doubt whose hot ass is in it. I throw my phone in my purse and sprint even faster toward it. President Obama could be one of the figures I run by. I’m moving so fast, I couldn’t care less who I’m passing. The crowd thickens the closer I get to the limo, but I barely catch a glimpse of Levi getting out and waiting for me, still in his floral hat.

“Watch where the f*ck you’re going,” roars a voice, and the next thing I know a stranger has ahold of my side braid, ripping me back. I look up to see I’m only feet away from Levi. The tug on my braid becomes stronger, as do the shouts from the crowd. My mind scrambles for the reason a strange man is trying to pull me to the ground. I didn’t bump into anyone or…