Page 63 of First Down Promise

“A bullshit call,” I reply.

“They better challenge that. How are we gonna win against Dallas at home when they skate by on these fucked up calls? That should have been a fucking penalty,” Pete rants. He rubs his temple with one hand and brings his beer bottle to his lips with the other.

“Our coach would have challenged that.”

“Fuck yeah, he would have,” Pete says just as Abby steps downstairs with her hair in a messy bun and wearing a pajama short set. She heads for the kitchen, but I still catch the way her full chest makes the thin straps lift away from her skin. My mind flashes back to the bye week before I force my attention back to the TV. “Don’t you think?” Pete asks.

My eyes refocus on him. “Sorry, zoned out. What?”

“Dallas. Think we can beat ‘em?” he repeats.

“Oh, yeah. Come on, Carolina’s been a pushover all season,” I reply.

Abby heads back to the stairs with her metal tumbler in her hand. “Ab, you have practice tomorrow?” he asks her.

She glances at us, and a warm pulse hits my chest when our eyes meet. “Yeah, early. Like seven,” she answers. Pete nods, and she turns back for the stairs.

“Want to watch the Dallas game with us?” I ask before she can disappear back to her room.

She points her thumb toward the stairs. “I was going to FaceTime Sadie, actually.” My lips form an O-shape, and she leaves us.

“It’s good she has a friend on the squad,” I say casually to Pete.

He nods. “Yeah, not sure what they’re going to talk about since they’re going to see each other in less than twelve hours.”

It must be too weird to hang out with both Pete and me. Sitting next to her brother and acting like I haven’t seen her naked is awkward enough for me. The thought sits heavily in the front of my mind.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of us, and as I glance down at it, I notice Abby’s contact picture light up next to a message. I quickly snatch up my phone before Pete can see it.

He side-eyes me. “You good?”

“Yep,” I answer, unlocking my screen.

Abby: Come to my room after Pete goes to bed. You drank too much to drive, right?

Oh, fuck me.

Me: Are you booty calling me?

As I send it, I chuckle under my breath, and when I look up from my screen, Pete is giving me a look, though he couldn’t have seen who I was texting.

“You’re looking at your phone the same way Abby was a few days ago,” he says.

“What? What do you mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know. She was just smirking at her phone all evening while we were watching Wisconsin play.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Who is she?”

I swallow hard. “Oh, just a girl I’m talking to. Gonna give me shit because I talk to too many?” I reply as naturally as I can. Pete purses his lips and shakes his head. “So, who’s Abby talking to?”

Pete shrugs and picks up his beer. “Some guy, I guess. She didn’t say. Maybe one you set her up with,” he answers, watching the play on the TV as he takes a long sip.

“Maybe…”

Pete shoots upright, nearly sloshing beer over his hand. “Oh, fuck! Did you see the size of that defender? I’m gonna get so fucking sacked.” He wipes his hand down his face and groans, but I’m distracted by my phone vibrating face down on my leg.

Abby: Maybe. You were the one who wanted to do something before Dallas.

I start typing a response as Pete nods at me. “Leave her hanging. Play a little hard to get, you know,” he says.