Page 25 of First Down Promise

“Nothing.” She shoots me a look that could kill. “Just three dates with three different guys that were just a waste of time. At least the first two said they’d reach out even though they haven’t. This guy, on the way to my car, basically said he wasn’t interested. I wasn’t his type or something.” Her voice cracks as she stares into my eyes. “Why are you setting me up with guys who couldn’t be any less interested in me?”

I run a hand through my shaggy hair. “I don’t know who would be a good fit, Ab. You’re the one who wanted to try dating. Sometimes, it goes like this,” I answer.

“Well, I wish you’d stop because you clearly don’t know what I want!” she snaps.

My pulse ticks up, and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or my frustration making my neck burn. “What do you want then?” I ask.

She presses the heel of her hand to her temple and sighs, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Just a shower at this point.” She turns toward the stairs without another word.

After she disappears, I bend over to pick up her heels and set them on the end table by the bar.

“Don’t worry about her,” Pete says. “But maybe stop setting her up.”

No fucking kidding. No more setups. I’m keeping it real from now on.

Chapter Nine

Abby

I rush up both flights of stairs barefoot, scampering off to the secluded comfort of my room.

Rejected yet again.

The first two fizzled faster than a firecracker, but this last one set a record since he didn’t hold back in sharing how he felt. It was the most humane way to reject me because I don’t have to sit around waiting for a text or call now. I got a taste of dating, and much to my relief, none of them kissed me or took me home. Not that I would have.

I turn on the shower and lean the back of my head against the glass shower door while the warm water kicks in. Josh asked what I wanted. If only we had been alone… But I don’t know how he would have reacted. I doubt he would have laughed and told me I was like a sister, but it would make things complicated. There’s just no easy resolution in sight for us. Why couldn’t I have met Josh at a bar or something? Some circumstance where I wasn’t just Pete’s little sister or a girl who cheered them on from the sidelines.

The shower must be warm enough, so I drop tonight’s outfit on the tile floor and step in to be cocooned by the steam. The first thing I do is scrub face wash into my skin to remove whatever is left of my makeup. The suds turn tan from my makeup, and I dip my head under the rain showerhead to rinse the night from my skin. I come up for air and move to the tiled bench in the corner as the water continues to run.

How’s it possible that three dates in a row went badly? Statistically, I should have hit it off with one of them. Or gotten invited out on a second date. And I thought it was common to have a first kiss after the first date. I mean, it felt like having dinner with Pete each time. Light conversation, but nothing deep. These three guys were all different in terms of careers, education, and personality.

The only common denominator: Josh.

The one who called me beautiful the first time I tried on my uniform, the one who was there when a rookie wouldn’t leave me alone, and the only other person aside from Pete who has my back. Well, aside from Coop and Dane, too. But I haven’t forgotten the way Josh made me comfortable when I moved to Nashville.

There’s no way he doesn’t feel something when I walk into a room. Whenever we make eye contact, something stirs in me each time I see those eyes. How could he not feel the same?

I finish washing myself and turn the water off. Reaching for my fluffy towel, I wrap it under my arms, tuck the edge in, and step over to my vanity where the mirror is miraculously not fogged with steam. My eye makeup is still a little smeared under my eyes, but it’s nothing a little micellar water can’t fix. I do my normal bedtime routine, but I spritz heat protectant in my hair to let it air dry while I sleep. It’ll turn frizzy and curly by the morning, but sometimes it’s easier to heat-style that way.

I throw on a satin camisole pajama set with lace trim and slip into my silky cotton sheets, but how could I sleep after throwing my heels at Josh? It might have been a touch dramatic, and I wasn’t trying to hurt him. The Stallions Stampede fandom would want my head if I caused Josh to be out even for one game.

Judging by the glimpse of the empty glasses near the pool table, I doubt any of the guys are driving home tonight, and they deserve a ‘cheat’ night after Thursday’s game went into overtime. They won by the skin of their teeth, and every game counts toward their shot at the playoffs. It doesn’t help how competitive the guys are, nor how badly they want to make it to the Championship for the first time in the team’s history.

Instead of trying to lie down, I read a smutty book on my tablet while I wait for the guys to come upstairs. I’ve always enjoyed reading romance, but I tended to skip the explicit parts. They made me blush too much, and I knew those scenes couldn’t be completely realistic. Not that I had any personal experience to compare them to.

Finally, around midnight, my eyelids become too heavy to comprehend what I’m reading, but a ruckus sends a surge through my brain. The guys are laughing and bumping into walls in the hallway as they drunkenly make their way to the guest rooms. I throw the covers off myself and rush to my bedroom door.

Cracking the door open just a hair, I watch as they head into the guest rooms. Josh takes the furthest one from me, but he typically stays in that particular guest room when he drinks a little too much and sleeps over. It’s rare for Coop and Dane to crash here too, but I never have to worry about leaving my door unlocked if they do.

I shut the door and pace the width of my room for a moment.

Do I approach Josh? He’d probably be too drunk to remember anything tonight, or would he? I bite my fingernail. Then, I remember how I felt when I got home. Hurt, rejected, raging, throwing a pair of Jimmy Choos—a Christmas gift from Pete—at that tall idiot.

I’m confronting him.

It’s been long enough that he should be in bed and hopefully not passed out yet. I open my bedroom door again and shut it behind me as quietly as I can. The hall light is off now, which works in my favor because I wouldn’t put it past Dane to notice footsteps from under the door. Channeling my inner ballerina and holding my breath, I tiptoe past Coop’s and Dane’s respective doors. The guest rooms all have their own bathrooms, so they should have no reason to come out now.

A little too aware of my rapid breathing and thudding heart, I make it to Josh’s door. I gently press my ear to it, but don’t hear anything. From previous times he’s slept over, I know Josh snores even if he’s barely dozed off. I reach for the doorknob, and relief slips through me when I find it unlocked.