Page 51 of Your Play to Call
“Tripp. I want to. A resounding yes. Let’s do it.”
“You’ve made my night.” My cheeks cramp from smiling.
“Seth is already making the calls and arrangements for Sunday.”
“Perfect. Also, you’ll be in a suite. My mom will be there, plus some other players’ wives and family. Is it cool if I give them a heads up? I want everyone to be on their best behavior.”
“I can’t wait to meet your mom!” she practically screams into the phone. “And yes, you can tell whoever. It’ll be easier if the press doesn’t know until I’m there but if it gets out, there’s nothing we can do.”
“How do you feel about packing a bag? Staying at my place? The Cosmos General Manager booked out an entire restaurant for players and families to celebrate the first home game. Figured we could make an appearance and then you could stay over.”
“You don’t even have to ask. I’m there.”
I’m there.My heart races. This feels significant, me and her being seen together, but there’s no hesitation on her end, or at least what I’m hearing.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her.
“Thank you for inviting me. I’m really looking forward to it. Butespeciallylooking forward to our sleepover.”
“Fuck. Me too.”
And I don’t think she knows how much.
Chapter 30
Willow
I wake up beforemy alarm and hop out of bed. It’s game day! I’ve been to NFL games before but never to watch a friend or someone I know. Here I am, about to see my Super Bowl champ-caliber guy do the thing he loves most.
When I fly around my room getting ready, excitement bubbles under my skin. I’m about to tell the entire world that I took Tripp up on his offer. Usually, this part of a relationship is stressful and feels like walking on eggshells, but Tripp makes this part fun. I have no idea what to expect but the sinking feeling in my belly is barely there.
I’d be lying if I wasn’t scared to tell everyone I’m dating someone. I know it’s going to get to Dexter. And if something goes wrong, it will be hashed out, over and over again.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Tripp has already shown me so much good that I refuse to miss out because of the possibility of it falling apart. Or, at least that’s what I tell myself as I look at the outfit hanging in my closet, specifically for today’s game.
For my outfit, I’ve got a top in Cosmos blue, a black leather skirt, and knee-high black boots. It’s late September in the city which means perfect boot weather, no tights needed. Plus, I’m having a stellar body image day and I’m thankful.
Tripp gave me some extra tickets if I had anyone else to invite. When I asked Emilie to come, I thought she was going to pass out. Not only isshe a music fiend, but she watches football every weekend. Watchesandyells at the TV.
“Willow, are you ready?” Emilie yells impatiently from downstairs.
I take one last look at myself in the mirror. My dark hair is lightly curled away from my face, pink lips a perfect contrast to the team colors. I look good which means I feel even better. Isn’t it satisfying when everything goes as planned—outfitandmakeup? I grab my overnight bag and go downstairs.
“A bag? GIRL. YES. I say that coming from friend Emilie and not your assistant.” Emilie literally claps before opening the door and we laugh as we walk to the car.
All I can think about is watching Tripp do the thing he loves most.
Seth pulls up to the specific entrance outside the stadium while he confirms something on the phone with stadium security. He’s coming to the game but insists on staying outside the suite the entire time. I told him that was unnecessary, but he insisted that that’s the only way he agreed to this with Tripp. The man takes his job very seriously.
Seth gets out of the car, opens my door, and I step out. I’m relieved to not see a single camera. It’s just a few people, using the same entrance, and security.
Emilie and I walk into the stadium, hand in hand. She has this thing about holding hands and it makes me feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Good thing because suddenly, I’m nervous. My head feels like it’s full of feathers and I’m a tad unsteady on my heels. She stops walking for a second, pretending to fix my hair, and squeezes my hand.
“You good?” She mouths, concern etched on her face.
I take a breath, and when I’m sure I’m not going to fall over, I nod yes. My free hand goes to my stomach, one of my most insecure places—I’m thankful for the oversized top. When I’m overwhelmed, my brain lets me hear the body image doubts a tiny bit louder.