Page 22 of First Down Promise

Rhett smirks. “Just that he can get you opportunities. Like cheering.”

“Pete had nothing to do with my spot on the squad, and I’m not going to do that forever,” I argue. “I guess I shouldn’t have ordered a burger and fries since I have to cheer this weekend,” I add as a joke to lighten the conversation.

“Oh, right, home game. I’ll be at work.”

“Is it hard working weekends?” I technically work weekends too if there’s a home game.

“No, they go by quickly. I try to take the early weekdays off,” he says.

Our number is called, and we eat in silence. Coop and Dane would love this burger joint, especially Coop. The buns are thick and fluffy, and their house sauce is a perfect blend of tangy and savory. Mental note—see if Coop wants to meet here sometime. I smile to myself because I know he’d give me a thorough review on all the elements, and their milkshakes also look unreal on the menu. Hell, part of me wants to text Coop to see if he wants to crash my date. Rhett might show a little more personality if the Stallions’ center showed up.

After we finish eating, he walks me out to my car. “This was fun,” he says.

I almost ask if it was fun because trying to make conversation was tedious at best, but again, this might be normal for a first date. Still, my intuition tells me this is the last time I’ll see Rhett.

“Thanks for meeting me and everything,” I reply.

“Yeah, I’ll text you.”

He gives me another brief hug without leaning in for a kiss and trots off before I even open my car door. I sink into the driver’s seat, replaying the evening in my mind. It would be pretty unlikely he’d be my soulmate, and I couldn’t imagine giving him my virginity. I’ve never considered myself a sexual person, but I’m not a prude either. I’ve definitely had those thoughts about Josh over the years.

When I get home, Pete is doing yoga in the living room—a pre-game ritual for him. I lock the door behind me and set my bag on the counter. He’s in downward dog, holding the pose, but slightly shaking. I walk over and bend down until my face is level with his.

“Hi, Pete,” I say with a giggle.

He shifts to upward dog as part of the vinyasa flow.

“How was the date? Must’ve sucked if you’re home before the sun’s down.” I glance toward the windows, and unfortunately, he’s right.

I kick off my shoes and sit on the area rug next to his mat, resting my forearms on my knees. “I don’t know. He seemed pretty indifferent to me. Like if we were the last people alive, he would rather go extinct than touch me.”

“That’s fucking weird,” Pete scoffs. “You’re a professional cheerleader. Something’s not right about that dude. Why don’t you go change and join me?” he asks, and I get back on my feet.

“Will do! Your form could use some work.”

“Hey!” he calls after me with a chuckle.

Chapter Eight

Josh

Another night, another date—for Abby.

She’s out with bachelor number three. This time with a guy named Tyler who’s in finance. He’s also nice, obviously. I wouldn’t set her up with a deadbeat. I met him at the gym a while ago, but he should be yet another dead end like the last two dates she’s been on.

It’s a risky game I’m playing. Rhett said I owed him majorly because, under any other circumstance, he would have been extremely interested in her, but reimbursing him for the date plus some and telling him I’d buy a car from him chilled him out pretty quickly.

And damn, I’m sick for this. Helping her scratch the itch while manipulating the outcome. When, in reality, I don’t know why I’m doing this. I could be hella fucking fined if I mess with a cheerleader, but the consequences would be worse for her. If something happens between us.

At this rate, it’ll be the offseason before we get anywhere, but I’ll follow her to Wisconsin if I have to.

Now, Tyler.

He’s taller than Rhett but not as tall as me, with darker features that Abby might be interested in. Out of the three guys I set her up with, he’s the wildcard. I knew Rhett wouldn’t take it any further, but Tyler could go rogue. He has money and charm, so I’m holding onto that last sliver of bro code that he doesn’t go there.

Since we played Thursday football, leaving me thoroughly bruised, I’m choosing alcohol this weekend. Our next game isn’t until next Sunday, so I have a rare week off to recover from getting tackled—and now getting drunk.

Hovering around the pool table in Pete’s finished basement with Coop and Dane, I miss an easy shot as the alcohol makes me sloppy.