Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (19 page)

“I hate you.”

He takes a big bite of his burger and some of the grease seeps out from the bun. “This burger does not make me hate you,” he says.

“Show-off.”

“Do you want a bite of it?”

It’s so tempting to say yes. It’s just a bite. One glorious, delicious, greasy bite. But no. I can’t. That would be cheating on my diet. And I can’t afford do that.

“No,” I say with finality. “Besides, I think you’re enjoying it enough for the both of us.”

“I sure am,” he says. “So, little sis. Have any hot friends I could date casually?”

“Are you really so hard up that you need to poach my friend group?”

“Kind of,” he says. “Girls my age want commitment. I just can’t.”

I nod and immediately think back to the conversation Sophie and I had about Ryan and Kate. They really do make sense together. Neither of them wants commitment, but they both want something. They’re both into science and medicine. They’re two of my favorite people. This might actually work out. Or crash and burn in a really dramatic way.

“Actually,” I say. “I might know of someone. I can’t promise anything, but I can see if she’d be interested in having coffee or something. How long are you in town?”

“Until Saturday. Then I go back to St. Louis. But I’m not on the road for a while.”

“Are you coming to tailgate for the game?”

“I have a training for a new drug I’m repping on Saturday morning, but we’re playing a night game, right?”

“Yep.”

“I should be done with training by lunchtime. So, sure. Tailgating.”

“I’ll set you two up there. See how it goes.”

“Not going to lie, the fact that I’m considering a long-distance casual dating scenario is weird.”

“It’s not really dating,” I say. “It’s two people who want to hook up, having someone they can casually hook up with when their paths cross. Not that she goes to St. Louis that often. So really it’d be when you’re in town.”

“It could work,” he says. “We’ll see, I guess.”

Indeed we will.

Adam

“Rookie,” our center, Lavon Jones, says to me in the locker room after practice. “You down to go out tonight?”

Since moving to New Orleans, I’ve spent almost no time enjoying everything the city has to offer. I haven’t been to Bourbon Street, aside from taking a quick stroll down it with Courtney when she came to visit, haven’t visited Marigny, and have yet to darken the doors of Preservation Hall.

I need a night out.

“Hells yes.”

“Cool,” he says. “We’re gonna head to Doc Voodoo’s around ten.”

“I’ll be there.”

“There’s a dress code,” Jones says. “So, don’t show up looking ratched.”

“You mean the way you look now?”

“Awe, man, you know I look fly in this,” he says, gesturing to his gym shorts and T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

I laugh and he says, “See you tonight.”

I finish packing up and stop by Coach’s office, knocking on the door.

“Yeah?” his gruff voice says.

I ease open the door and say, “Hey, Coach. I just wanted to check in on Brooks. See if there’ve been any updates.”

“He’s the same,” Coach says. “Still recovering from the breaks. It’s going to be a long road for him since the ribs can’t be set the way an arm or leg can be.”

I nod and thank him for his time as I turn to go.

“Kistler,” he says, and I turn back around to face him. “What happened with Brooks isn’t getting to you, is it?”

“I’m just concerned for my teammate.”

Coach nods in understanding, but his mouth makes a firm line. “Well, if the pressure starts getting to you or anything, don’t hesitate to let someone know. We have people on staff who can help with that.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

“And one more thing,” he says. “You’re doing a damn good job.”

I smile and say, “Glad you think so.”

“Have a good night, Kistler.”

“You too, sir.”

When I get to my apartment I look up the website for the club, trying to figure out exactly what kind of dress code they have, and am annoyed when it asks men to wear slacks and dress shoes.

Why can’t the guys want to go to a low-key bar?

Then I see photos of the place and realize why—they’re going to pick up women.

“Great,” I grumble, grabbing my phone and texting Deeks.

Are you coming out tonight to that voodoo place?

I flip the TV on and after watching the ESPN headlines tick across the bottom of a baseball game, I turn on the PlayStation to get a quick game of
Halo
in before I need to change into a monkey suit to go to a club.

My phone lights up with Deeks’s reply.
Of course.

Good. That makes me feel marginally better about going out. At least I’ll have someone to hang with who isn’t mackin’ on ladies the entire time.

I was hoping that Luke or Rufus or some of the guys from the Mizzou team would be online so I could catch up with them as I play, but no such luck. Then I remember that it’s Thursday night—they’re probably all busy since Thursday in college is the start of the weekend.

Without anyone to talk to while playing, I get bored quickly and log out. Finally, it’s time for Courtney to be out of her kinesiology lab and I pick up the phone to call her.

“Hey,” she answers. “Good timing. I literally just walked out of class.”

“That’s me, the king of good timing.”

“How’s your day been?”

“Fine,” I say. “Working on a few new plays that we can hopefully have polished enough to unveil during the next game.”

“That’s exciting,” she says. “I’ve been learning all about the many ways an athlete can injure their knee and how to rehab it. Gruesome stuff.”

“Yeah,” I say, shivering a little at the thought and knocking on the wooden coffee table in front of me that I never have to know exactly how gruesome it is. “Are you doing anything fun tonight?”

“Probably not,” she says. “I’m sure Kate and Sophie will be out, but I think I want to just chill tonight. If Willa isn’t around, maybe I’ll call Becca or something.”

“That sounds good,” I say. “How are she and Drew doing?”

“I think okay,” Courtney says. “She’s planning to transfer to St. Louis next semester. It was all she could talk about the first couple weeks of school, but she actually hasn’t said much about it lately.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to be that person who only talks about one thing all the time.”

“Probably,” she says. “She knows I’d trip her on one of our morning runs if she did.”

I laugh and she asks, “What are you up to?”

“I’m gonna go out with some of the guys in about an hour.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “That’s good. Normally you get home from practice, eat something, and then go straight to bed.”

“Are you calling me a hermit, Narducci?”

“No,” she says, laughing. “I’m just glad you’re getting out of the apartment for a reason that isn’t going to McDonald’s or driving to the field house.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I just wish we were going somewhere that isn’t a club.”

Courtney bursts out laughing at that.

“What? Why is that funny?”

“I just can’t imagine you in a club,” she says between laughs. “The loud music, the flashing lights, the overpriced everything.”

“I know,” I say. “But it’s where the guys want to go and it’s not like I know of any better suggestions.”

“Right,” she says. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine. If not, it will definitely be an experience.”

“True,” I say. I look at the clock and see that I need to get a move on. I sigh and say, “Well, I need to get going.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Have fun tonight. Tell the guys I say hello.”

“Will do. I’ll talk to you later.”

We hang up and I change into my gray dress pants and a light blue button-up shirt. I look like I’m going to a business meeting, not to a club.

Stupid dress code.

I consider pulling my hair—which is getting a little long, even for me—into a ponytail, but decide against it. I’m not looking to impress anyone.

I grab my keys, phone, and wallet, and head out to my Jeep, sighing as I set my GPS and shift into gear to head toward the club. When I get there, I see Jones and Adrian Lispenard, another of our teammates, standing out the entrance.

“Rookie!” Jones says. “Glad you made it.”

“Of course,” I say.
 

Jones nods at the bouncer, who lifts the velvet rope to let us in, and we’re escorted by a woman in a barely there gold sequined dress through the low light of the club to a back table that’s cordoned off with yet another velvet rope.

“VIP, baby,” Lispenard says.

I was expecting this place to be the kind of club with bumping bass and multicolored lights, but it’s not like that. At least, not so far.

We head into the booth and a cocktail waitress—also in a gold sequined dress—

immediately brings us a tray of shots.

“Can I get you fellas anything else?” the waitress asks.

I open my mouth to order a beer, but Jones says, “Not right now, beautiful.”

She smiles and winks before turning to head out of our area and back behind the bar.

“Is that one new?” Lispenard asks Jones.

“Must be,” he says, looking her up and down.

“So,” I say. “This isn’t exactly what I thought of when you guys said this is a club.”

“Just wait, rookie,” Jones says. “It’ll get rowdy soon enough.”

I almost say that rowdy isn’t what I’m looking for, but hold my tongue. I want to be friends with these guys, not tell them that their idea of a good time grates on me.

“Hot damn,” Lispenard says, his gaze following a group of women who just walked in and are sitting down in a booth to the side of the dance floor.

“Good eye, A,” Jones says, picking up a shot from the tray in front of us and tossing it back. “Let’s wait until Deeks is here and we get a few more drinks in before we invite them up.”

I want to protest, to remind these guys that I have a fiancée, but what did I expect? I knew we were coming to a club and knew that they were going to be hitting on women. I can’t be upset about that. If it gets too awkward or uncomfortable, I can always leave.

A few minutes later, I spy Deeks being escorted over to our table and feel immediately more at ease. Not that Jones and Lispenard make me nervous, but I don’t know them as well as I do Deeks.

“My men,” Deeks says, as he comes up the small set of stairs to our booth. He gives us all a handshake-slash-pat on the back combination before downing a shot and taking a seat beside me. “How’s the night going so far?”

Lispenard points out the group of women from earlier, who now all have Martini glasses in front of them, and Deeks nods enthusiastically.

The waitress comes by again. This time I make sure to order my beer and Jones puts in an order for two bottles of Dom.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,” Deeks says to me.

“This isn’t really my scene.”

“Ah,” he says. “You’re nervous about the girls.”

“Pretty much.”

He nods and asks, “Does Courtney know you’re here?”

“Yep.”

“She cool with it?”

“She actually laughed when I told her I was going to a club.”

Deeks smiles and says, “Just keep your hands to yourself and you’ll be fine. Courtney’s great and she trusts you. There’s nothing to worry about. So relax. Here, take a shot with me.”

He grabs the last two shots off the tray and hands one to me.

“To a relaxing night out.”

I clink my shot glass with his and throw it back, doing my best to not make a face at the too-sweet liquor. Luckily, my beer shows up as I’m putting the shot glass down and I take a big drink of it to wash away the aftertaste.