Page 33 of Play the Last Card
Scott:Why didn’t you let me kiss you the other night?
Ivy:Um, not sure, actually.
Christ…
Scott:You’re not sure?
Maybe I’m wasting my time. I am taking the gamble that she might not hate football as much as she says she does anyway. Maybe, even though I’ve become ridiculously obsessed with her in such a short time, she doesn’t see me the same way. Maybe she sees me as a new in town, Boston hater that she’ll try to change the mind of. Maybe I am being … my phone vibrates in my hand.
Ivy:Scott?
Scott:Ivy?
Ivy:Will you try again next time?
Fuck.
“Coach?” The words are leaving my lips before my brain even processes them. “It’s been a long day. It’s hot as fuck out. Let’s call it for the day. I’m sure the team would appreciate the early night.”
Coach pauses the tape before getting to his feet and turning to stare at me in the back row. His eyes flicker to Flynn, who is curled completely into himself and sleeping quietly beside me. I nudge him with my elbow and he jerks awake, sitting up before running a hand over his face.
“We’re playing the top of the division come Sunday,” Coach huffs out. He glares at me, I glare back. “But Harvey’s right. It was tougher than we anticipated out there this afternoon. You’re dismissed.”
I move before anyone else.
Flynn calls my name but I’m collecting my bag and out the front doors of the training facility before he even hits the locker room for his own.
I have to act on this now before she takes it back.
Before I lose my nerve.
Ivy’s place is no more than fifteen minutes from the facility. I park in the same space outside her place as last weekend, my feet travel the samepath as they had when I’d knocked on her front door and listened to her shuffle around behind it cursing my early nature.
I knew I should’ve waited around the corner a little longer than I did.
I’d been a full ten minutes early to pick her up for our mini golf date but forced myself to wait before pulling up to her house.
Her small red car is sitting in the driveway in front of the closed double garage door. For the first time since I’d seen her message, I hesitate, but it’s only for a second. There’s no porch light on, no light coming through any of the front facing windows. She’s either adverse to leaving a hall light on or already asleep.
I take the chance anyway and ring the doorbell.
When there’s no movement—knowing full well it’s been no more than thirty seconds—I lift my fist and knock.
A light appears at the top of the stairs, shining through the curtains over the front windows that frame the door. Then another light, a shadow of someone moving down the stairs.
Then the porch light.
The beat of my heart slows as I wait.
Something clicks, likely the lock on the door, and Ivy’s face comes into view as she pulls it open gingerly.
“I know it’s only just after seven but I did say I was in bed already,” she says, her voice sleepy and quiet.
Even her shy smile is beautiful.
Her soft features are free of makeup, her hair falls over her shoulders in loose curls and the pajama shorts are surely not legal; they're that short.
I focus on the blue eyes I think about so often. They swirl with confusion, amusement, and curiosity. She’s wondering why I’m here. Why I left what was obviously work for me to see her. I have to eventually tell her what I do, especially now that I’m here to cement that I definitely didn’t want her to be just a fucking tour guide.