Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel (9 page)

Chapter 20

Hunter

I pull up to the simple red brick house. I'm almost certain
Coach could afford something flashier, but that's not his way. I run my hand
nervously through my hair and make sure my button down shirt is tucked into my
khakis. I feel like I'm a private, presenting myself for inspection to the
general.

As I step out of the car, I look around, imagining Britt
growing up here. I wonder if she played in the front yard...maybe there were
other kids in the neighborhood that would stop by. I have to ask her. I find
myself needing to know every little detail about her past as though it's a new
little nugget to savor.

I walk up the front steps and stop. I can see through the
front windows back to the kitchen. Britt is stirring something over the stove,
and has a wide smile across her face. Her hair's wet, and she wears a plain
white t-shirt. I could stand out here forever and just watch the way she moves.

A shadow moves behind her and I start. It's Coach, setting
something in the sink. I can't be acting like a love struck teenager in front
of him tonight. He might be supportive of me now, but I can only imagine how
quickly the tide would turn if he found out what I've been doing with his
daughter. He'd probably put my head on a stake outside the field as a warning
to all the other players.

I stride up the last couple steps, take a deep breath, and
knock. "I'll get it!" I can just hear Britt call out from inside. I
hear her light footsteps, and then a moment later the door swings open.

"Hunter, it's nice to meet you," she says,
extending her hand. "I've seen you play. I'm Britt, Coach McKay's
daughter." She's all formality, but she can't resist a quick wink at the
end. I almost smile, but then I see Coach walking in from the kitchen.

"Nice to meet you too, Britt," I reply. I feel
electricity as our palms touch. That attraction to her hasn't changed from day
one. I pull my hand back as Coach puts an arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice, Hunter,"
Coach says. "With the away game next week, and the holidays coming up, I
wasn't sure we'd have another chance to talk."

"No problem at all," I assure him. "I'm happy
to have a home-cooked meal."

"Well, I made double what I usually do. I've seen you
eat."

I feel slightly dumbfounded as Britt moves behind me to
close the door and Coach motions me inside. Did Coach just joke around with me?
I didn't know he was even capable of doing such a thing.

"I'll finish up if you two want to talk," Britt
offers.

"Thanks," her dad replies. Out of the corner of my
eye, I watch Britt walk back into the kitchen as her father points me toward a
couch. The kitchen is open to the living room but the couch is facing forward
so I can't see Britt. It's probably a good thing, so I won't be distracted by
her curves during my conversation with her father.

Coach sits in an armchair. I can tell by the way he settles
back into it that this is his usual spot.

"Tell me about which agencies have made you
offers," he begins. Now that we're focused on football, I feel more
confident. I launch into a description. There's a lot to tell him...every
agency has a different feel, a different way of dealing with its clients, and a
different way of seeing who I am both as a player and a product. I find myself
talking for a long time. All of my friends on the team love to contribute their
two cents, my parents are incensed that I'm not just blindly taking their
advice, and when I'm with Britt, I just want to forget about all of this stuff
and just be with her, so it's a relief to lay everything out for Coach.

He listens silently, nodding every now and then, and then
leans forward slightly when I finish. "I think your choice here is really
between two agencies," he says. I feel instantly lighter. I've been
wanting someone to really break it down for me. "Davenport and Associates
and Ginsberg Daniels. Davenport has more of a boutique feel. It's smaller, and
their clients get more individual attention. But they're newer, and some
companies have long-standing relationships with Ginsberg Daniels, so you might
not have the opportunity to immediately get such lucrative endorsements. But
with Ginsberg Daniel's size, they might be able to give you less attention and
time."

"Ginsberg Daniels has seemed really attentive so
far," I tell him.

"They're all going to be like that in the
beginning," he tells me. "Everyone is going to come to you and tell
you how amazing they think you are. But don't forget that every one of those
people wants a piece of you. Every single one. You're the one out on the field
risking your health every day, and never forget that. They work for you, not
the other way around. Don't be fooled by the pomp and circumstance. They're all
showing you their best sides right now, but there are other sides. A lot of
players wind up being taken advantage of. They sign without reading everything,
or they give too much money away to their relatives, or they party too much and
blow their signing bonus and then bam! Next game, they tear their ACL." I
wince instinctively. "I'm not trying to scare you...well, maybe I
am," he acknowledges.

"I do like the guy I've been talking to at
Davenport," I acknowledge. "Ginsberg Daniels is flashier, but
sometimes I do get the feeling that they're blowing smoke. I mean, I haven't
even been to the Combine yet."

Coach nods. "Well, you don't have to make a decision
now, but I like where your head's at. Don't let anything sidetrack you."

"I won't. This is everything I've ever wanted, and I
don't intend to screw it up," I promise him.

I realize it's been quiet behind me in the kitchen as Britt
tries to overhear our conversation. "Dinner's ready!" she suddenly calls,
breezing past us on the way to the dining room with cutlery in hand.

Chapter 21

Britt

We sit down together at the table, my father at the head,
and Hunter directly across from me. I try not to make direct eye contact with
him, because I know how my cheeks tend to flush. Hunter raises his hand to
reach for his fork, and I reach my foot under the table and give his leg a
gentle tap. He looks up in surprise, and I nod toward my father, who is closing
his eyes to say Grace. Hunter smiles at me gratefully, and we all close our
eyes and bow our heads.

"Bless us, oh Lord, for the bounty we are…" my
father begins. As he speaks, his words so familiar to me, I feel my stomach
lurch. My eyes snap open, and I frown. Hunter and my father haven't noticed,
and I take a deep breath through my nose to try to quell my sudden nausea, and
close my eyes again.

When he finishes, we all say "Amen," and my father
cuts the lasagna with a spatula and serves us each a big helping. My father and
Hunter start talking about the defense they'll be facing next week, and I push
my food around my plate with my fork.

"Something wrong, Britt? I thought lasagna was your
favorite." My head snaps up and I find my father looking at me worriedly.

"It is, I love it. I think I might just be coming down
with something, actually. Could you excuse me?" I get up from the table
and head to the first floor bathroom under the staircase. As soon as I shut the
door behind me, my nausea overpowers me, and I lurch toward the toilet. I make
it just in time, and take a deep breath as my vomiting subsides.

I sit back against the wall and take a piece of toilet paper
to wipe my mouth. Do I know anyone else who's sick? Maybe something's going
around the dorm. But besides the nausea, which has now subsided, I don't really
feel that sick. Maybe a little tired, but between my classes and Hunter, I
guess I've been stretched a little thin.

Hunter...

Something tugs at the back of my mind, something I feel like
I should pay attention to. The nausea, the tiredness, my already sizable
breasts feeling even bigger.

My eyes fly open in alarm. No. No, no, no. That can't be
possible. I can't be pregnant. Hunter and I always use protection. Always. I
even went to the Health Center after we started dating and went on the pill,
just to be extra careful even though we still use condoms.

The woman at the Health Center said
it was normal for my period to be irregular for the first few months of taking
the pill, so I thought it didn't mean anything that I wasn't getting it. Hormones
can make your body act crazy, right?

Hormones. Maybe that's all this is.
If I'm on the pill, which tricks my body into making me think it's pregnant,
then maybe I'm just having a reaction to the hormones. That has to be it.
Hunter and I are always so careful.

I stand up. I feel a little dizzy,
but otherwise alright. I wash my mouth out with some water, flush the toilet,
and head back to the table.

"You feeling okay?"
Hunter asks as I sit down. I hope my dad doesn't read too much into the concern
in his voice.

"Fine now, thanks," I
reply, picking up my fork and digging into the lasagna. "What were you
guys talking about?"

When we finish dinner, we gather
the plates and take them to the kitchen. Despite the fact that I'm not feeling
one hundred percent, seeing Hunter help my father with the dishes is a sight
that fills me with delight. He's so tall and has such wide shoulders, that he
completely dwarfs the modest space. Afterward, we walk into the living room to
sit down for a little, and then Hunter leans forward.

"Thanks for your hospitality,
Coach, but I don't want to keep you too late," he says.

"I guess I should let you get
home," my dad says, standing and shaking his hand. "Give me a call if
you have any questions."

"Will do. Britt, pleasure to
meet you," Hunter adds, turning to me. "If you live on campus, I'm
happy to give you a ride home."

I glance at my dad, implicitly
asking his permission. "If it wouldn't be any trouble," my dad
replies.

"Not at all," Hunter
says.

My father nods. "Alright then,
thanks." We walk to the door and I give my dad a quick hug, my feeling of
guilt peaking. I walk behind Hunter to his car, and he walks to the driver's
side to open the door for me. Conscious that my dad could still see us, we
don't even touch until we're turning the corner down the block, when Hunter
finally reaches for my hand and holds it.

"I think it went well,
right?" he asks.

"He really likes you," I
tell him.

"I feel like I was meeting my
girlfriend's dad for the first time, even though that's not the case at
all," he says with a laugh. "Want to come over to my place?"

"I do, but I'm actually still
not feeling great. I don't want to get you sick with your games being so
important now," I tell him. Vanover is on track to win the NCAA
championships this year, plus all the NFL scouts are watching Hunter closely,
parsing through his actions on every play.

All too quickly, we're pulling up
on the street behind my dorm. We both instinctively glance around to make sure
no one can see us, but it's night and there are only a couple of people walking
around. Hunter leans across the console and slips his hand onto my cheek.

"I'm sick!" I protest.

"I don't care," he
murmurs, pressing his lips over mine. I melt immediately, my lips opening to
his as his tongue softly slides over mine.

"You're gonna make this hard
for me, aren't you?" I whisper.

"I love you," he says
back. It takes a moment to register. I blink, and pull my head back an inch. A
grin spreads across my face.

"You love me?" I repeat
gleefully.

"Yes," he replies, a grin
sliding across his All-American face.

"I love you, too," I
reply, and wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his neck.
Everything about him feels right to me. I lean back and kiss him again.
"I'll come over tomorrow night after your practice, okay?"

"Okay," he replies. I
step out of the car and am about to close the door when I lean back down. I
have to say these new words once more.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says. I
shut the door and wave as he pulls away. I'm walking on air as I head into the
dorm, and practically dance out of the elevator and down to my door. Danielle
looks up as I enter.

"He loves me! We said
it!" I shout.

Danielle jumps up and we both start
squealing. "I knew it! I knew it!" she crows and leans in to give me
a hug.

"Wait, I might be sick!"
I warn her.

"Really? What's wrong?"

"I think it's just my birth
control, like the hormones, but I threw up earlier."

"That's weird. Anything
else?"

"Well, I haven't gotten my
period, but that's normal right?"

Her eyebrows raise.
"Normal?"

"On birth control, it's normal
to miss a couple, right?" I say, feeling a little nervous.

"You mean spotting, or none at
all?"

"None at all."

Danielle sits down at her desk
chair. "So you're nauseous, and how many periods have you missed?"

"Two," I admit. "But I know what you're
thinking, and I can't be pregnant. Before I was on birth control, we used
condoms."

"Did they slip ever? Or maybe he pulled out once? Or
they were expired?"

"Well, I mean, the very first time we had sex I only
had this really old condom from high school, but…" I trail off, reading
the concern etched on her face. I sit down on my bed.

"It's okay, don't panic," she says. "We can
go to the pharmacy tomorrow."

"No. Tonight. I have to know," I whisper. "I
can't be pregnant, Danielle." I rest my head in my hands. "Hunter is
going to the NFL, my dad would—"

"Wait. Wait. It's too soon for that talk. Come on. I'll
go with you," she says, grabbing her coat.

* *
*

In the dorm bathroom, we stare down
at the little blue plus sign on the pregnancy kit. I turn and vomit into the
toilet. Not from nausea, but because I've never been so panicked in my life.

"You have options,"
Danielle says quietly.

"It might seem that way, but I
don't," I reply.

"Of course you do," she
insists.

"No," I shake my head,
and slide down the stall door until I'm seated on the cold blue tile. "The
truth is, I already know I want to keep him."

"Him?"

"Oh. I don't know. It just
came out that way." I hide my face in my hands.

"You're sure?" Danielle
asks, sitting down next to me. "I don't want to pressure you either way,
but if you do…terminate, your life could go back to normal."

"But it wouldn't be normal.
I'd have to hide it from my dad, because he'd never forgive me, and I've
already lied to him enough. Besides, this…baby," I finally say, the words
both terrifying and exhilarating, "belongs to Hunter and me. I can already
feel myself loving it."

"Okay, then," Danielle
says, accepting what I've said, and proving again what a great friend she is.
"So you and Hunter will—" she stops as I shake my head.

"No. I can't tell him. He'll
insist on marrying me and coming clean to my dad, and my dad will pull his
support completely. He'll torpedo Hunter's NFL chances."

"But maybe—"

"Hunter would always resent
me," I tell her. "I can't have that. This baby and me would be like a
millstone around his neck."

"So what, you're like a
sacrificial lamb?" Danielle says, her brow furrowing. "You're the
smartest person I know. You can't just throw your future away. You still get to
have a dream, too."

"You're right," I tell
her. "So how can I do both? I'm genuinely asking."

Danielle takes a deep breath. "Transfer schools. With
your grades, you could go anywhere. Do you have anyone who could help you out?
A grandmother, a cousin? You're going to need support."

"My aunt," I realize. "My mom's sister. She
lives in Oregon. She was always too much of a bohemian for my dad so he never
much kept in touch with her, but she always sends me notes and wants to be in
touch more."

"Good. We'll call her. Maybe she'll let you stay with
her for a bit, and then you could reapply to a school out in Oregon. You could
get a part-time job and still graduate. Maybe you'll have to choose just one major,
but lots of women do that."

"Lots of single mothers," I correct her.

"It will be hard, but if anyone could do it, it's you,
Britt. Promise me you'll still graduate, okay?" Danielle asks, taking my
hand.

"I promise," I tell her, squeezing her hand hard.
I begin to sob.

"It's alright," Danielle says, wrapping her arm
around my shoulder.

"No, it's not," I gasp. "I love Hunter so
much, and now I have to leave him."