Page 38 of Play the Last Card
“Harvey. He plays quarterback. I’m gonna play quarterback one day.” Connor nods, probably more to himself. So young yet so determined. It makes me laugh quietly.
These kids. I love how their dreams have no limits; nothing is out of reach for them at five. I fiddle with the ring around my neck, turning it between my fingers a few times. I know Connor is probably just dreaming big and that it’s unlikely he’ll play professional sport. He might only be five years old but I've seen him try to throw a ball at lunch time.
I may not like football, but I do love my kids so I lean in and say quietly, “You know, my dad was a football quarterback.” Connor’s head whips around, his eyes wide as they meet mine. “Mhmm. He was good too. Was an American All-Star in college.”
“Woah.”
“I bet, though,” I lean closer whispering now, like it’s a secret just between Connor and I. “If you train really hard, you’ll be even better than him.”
“Really?” He stares at me with wonder.
“Yep.” I pull back, moving to stand up so I can check on the other tables.
“Wow,” Connor whispers, staring down at his own painting like he’s now imagining it’s actually him and not his favorite player, Harvey, in a Broncos uniform.
Scott’s face invades my thoughts. I wonder if he knows this new quarterback that shares one of his names. Just the mention of his name has me thinking about him showing up last night and then again this morning, coffee in hand, pastry in the other, and the feel of his lips invading my mind.
He is a really good kisser. Like, reallyreallygood.
I had to sit in my car for an extra five minutes when I’d parked at school just to calm down. I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands exploring my body like his tongue did my mouth.
His tongue exploring my body … him hovering above me … fingers pressing into my bare skin …
Fuck.
I force the images out of my head and take a deep breath. I cannot, will not allow myself to get hot and bothered whilst in the classroom.
As I move around the table, I tune back into the kids and hear Macy say, “Three of my brothers play football.”
“That’s cool,” Connor says. “I don’t have a brother.”
“You can have one of mine if you want. I have four.”
“Do you play football with them? I’d want to play football with them.”
“Sometimes. When my daddy lets me.”
At least football brings joy to some people.
***
Scott is on my front door step at seven o’clock sharp. The pep rally threatened to run over so I’d snuck out. Katie was all for it once I’dbrought her up to speed with last night’s, and this morning's activities. Her smug smile had grown wider and wider as I told her about how Scott had showed up last night just to kiss me. She practically fell over when I mentioned he’d shown up this morning with a coffee and pastry, just because.
So I left early, racing home to shower and change. I am slipping my feet into a pair of my favorite heels when the doorbell rings through the house. Just the thought of seeing him has me smiling like an idiot as I head down stairs and throw open the door.
“Hi.”
He smirks, leaning against the door frame, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark gray dress pants. I barely get a proper look at him—black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms on display—before he’s swooping down to kiss me.
He pulls away and I’m left swaying slightly where I stand, light-headed from a simple hello kiss. “Hey, you. Good day?”
I nod. “Mhmm. It rained over lunch and the kids had to stay inside, so I gave up on teaching and we did finger painting.”
His quiet laugh sends an electric current through my nervous system. “Sounds like a productive day.”
“Yeah.” He takes my hand, stepping onto the porch and waiting for me to close the door behind me. I check it’s locked before sliding my keys into my bag. “Where are we going?”
He leads me to his car, parked in the same spot as it had been this morning. He squeezes my hand. “You like Italian?”