And, since I’ve never met anyone who I could potentially see myself falling in love with—not even close—I’ve been saving myself for some elusive, perfect woman who might not even exist.
Who probably doesn’t exist, let’s be honest.
Which fucking sucks.
I wish I could climb into that Jeep and go for a joyride with these girls. I wish I could let off some metaphorical steam all over them. Take out my frustrations in a long-overdue frenzy until they were crying for more than one reason.
But no. I spend every single second of my time mired in a ferocious, feral state of relentless, raging lust. For a phantom lover who never shows up.
I exist in a haze of blazing, pent-up need that has nowhere to focus besides football, which only releases a miniscule fraction of it.
I hang out with friends, I swim until my muscles are aching, I pump iron until I’m drenched in sweat. But none of it helps.
It’s a big fucking problem.
I’m glad the football season officially starts tonight. Now that I can immerse myself in practice, games and my business and finance classes, time won’t seem so slow and heavy, I can only hope. Caleb will be home next month. My brother has seen some serious combat in Afghanistan and I have a feeling he’ll be a changed man when he gets back. I email him every couple of days to try to boost his morale, which hasn’t been great lately. It’ll be good to have him home again.
The girls call after me, begging me to come back to them.
I almost turn.
I almost fucking do it.
Promise me … stay true to your own heart.
I am. I said I would. But what if it kills me?
There’s more to me than a heart. And everything else about me wants to fuck like a maniac.
I keep walking.
I get to the locker room and toss my bag onto a bench.
Most of the team is already there and we go through our plays and warm up and I do what I need to do. I try to focus.
Each day, it’s getting harder.
My head isn’t straight. My situation is starting to fuck with my concentration. I’m consumed with a raging fever that’s becoming harder and harder to control.
As we run out onto the field for kick-off, I can hear the fans chanting my name. We’re playing one of our biggest rivals tonight and they’ll give us a run for our money, but I’m more than fucking up to it. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins like a drug. The thrill of the game is the only thing that takes the slightest edge off.
I throw the ball to Kirby, who advances twelve yards. It’s a good start. The fans go wild. It’s our first game of the season and they’re feeling it.
I nail pass after pass. By the end of the first half, we’re up by fourteen points.
It’s deep in the fourth quarter when it happens. Our possession. The score is 38-7. I’m getting into position for the next play when something catches my eye. I glance up at the Jumbotron.
And I stop.
The camera has zoomed in on someone. At first I think I’m seeing things. Imagining some kind of vision, dug up, maybe, by an agony that’s only compounding itself day by day.
It’s a girl. An unbelievably … beautiful girl.
Her face is angelic, impossibly cute, like something out of … a fantasy, maybe. A fantasy I want to step into and live inside. She’s wearing a hat but as I stand there watching her, a gust of wind blows her hat off and her long hair spills loose. Her hair isn’t quite strawberry blond and isn’t quite white gold but some impossible shade in between, framing her face like a halo. The setting sun catches it. Everything about her shines with a surreal glow. She looks soft and enchanting and somehow shimmery, like a shy mermaid that just wandered onto dry land. You can tell she doesn’t know the camera is on her. She smiles sort of self-consciously at something someone next to her has said and reaches for her hat.
Fuck, she’s stunning. She’s devastatingly sexy in a dreamy, totally-unaware-of-it way. Jesus. I’m getting hard. From gazing up at the fucking Jumbotron. Which is not ideal in the middle of a football game.
Someone’s yelling at me. A lot of people are yelling at me. I can hear their voices, but I literally can’t pull my eyes away.
I’m star-struck, like one of those shots in a movie where everything fades out except the object that takes all your focus. My mouth feels parched. And my heart aches as though I’ve been missing something monumental and here it suddenly fucking is.
Who is she?
I don’t even realize I’ve said it out loud, but Tyler is within earshot. “That’s the girl I saw on the green today. She’s a fuckin’ goddess.”
I feel like lunging at him. Tackling him to the ground and making sure he understands that he can’t have her. That if he goes anywhere near her, I’ll go fucking ballistic.
But then she realizes she’s on camera and her cheeks get pink as she puts her hat back on and pulls it low over her eyes.
The camera pans away, across the crowd, and she’s gone.
No.
I scan the stadium but have no idea where she might be.
Coach is yelling from the sideline. He calls a time out. His face is bright red. Hayes and Kowalski and some of the others are laughing. I realize I’ve been standing there for a while, maybe close to a minute.
“McCabe! What the hell are you doing?” Coach is screaming.
“He’s checking out some girl on the Jumbotron,” Kirby says. He elbows me. “Does this mean our lone wolf quarterback has finally met his match? Dude, you need to find her.”
I know.
My team gives me shit all the time about my lack of a love life. They don’t understand it and neither do I.
Coach is about a foot shorter than me, ranting like a lunatic. He’s worked up. “If you have any intention of continuing as the starting goddamn quarterback for this team, McCabe, you’ll get your goddamn head back in this game, and pronto! You can play the other field in your own time. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
I scan the crowd as subtly as I’m capable of as I return to the field. I can’t see her.
Fuck.
It takes every shred of willpower I possess to keep my focus. Somehow, I do. For the final fifteen minutes, I go through the motions. Bronson’s a wild card with occasional flashes of genius. And he’s right where I want him. My pass glides into his outstretched hands and he juggles it before securing the ball.
Touchdown! yells the announcer. The crowd goes insane.
The game is over.
I have to stop myself from running up into the stands to search for her. But there are a hundred thousand people here tonight. They’re standing up. They’re starting to leave.
Where is she?
Who is she?
I have to find out.
I want to see her again, like I’ve never wanted anything in my life.
The people around me are cheering, celebrating, patting me on the back. I barely hear them. All I can think about is the shy, glowing girl and the realization that’s hitting me like a ten-ton wall of bricks.
I’m going to search for her until I find her. If it takes me the rest of my life to do it.
I’ve kept my promise, and now it’s time to find out what I’ve been missing.
To make the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen … mine.
I want her.