She was the reason I was doing everything. She was the reason for that first half, but I couldn’t be angry with her. If anything, it only made me want to see her that much more.
I sat there and the minutes ticked by. She didn’t respond to my text, and I had no clue if she was even at the game. We hadn’t really spoken since Wednesday night at the gym.
As I leaned back, I heard the door open. Someone stepped inside and came around the corner.
She smiled at me. “Hi, Gibson.”
I frowned. “What are you doing here?”
She came closer, still wearing her cheerleader outfit. “I wanted to say congratulations,” Cathy said. “You looked amazing out there.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I was hoping I could be alone.”
She pouted and came over to me. “Why are you so serious all the time, Gibson?”
“Not serious,” I grunted. “Just trying to have a second to myself.”
She smiled, trying to be sexy. She dropped down to her knees in front of me.
“I just wanted to come in here and congratulate you,” she said. “I wanted to give you something since you played so well.”
She reached out toward me.
“Fuck off, Cathy,” I said, knocking her hands away. “I’m not interested.”
She laughed. “Oh please, Gibson. You used to love it when I sucked your dick. We’re alone in here. Nobody will see.”
“I said no, Cathy. Fuck off.”
She gave me that stupid pouty look she did when she wasn’t getting her way but thought she still might. I shook my head and moved back.
And as I moved, I looked up. Avery was standing in the doorway, staring.
“Fuck,” I said, standing up. “Avery.”
“You texted,” she said. “I was just coming to say hey.”
Cathy looked back at her. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?”
“Get the fuck out of here, Cathy.”
“Fuck you, Gibson,” she said, looking back at me.
“I should go.” Avery turned and quickly left.
I stared at Cathy. “Go throw yourself at someone who fucking wants you.”
“Grow some balls, Gibson.”
I quickly walked away from her and didn’t look back. The only thing on my mind was explaining to Avery what the hell that was.
“Avery,” I called out. She was halfway down the hallway, her bag over her shoulder. “Hold on.” I jogged to catch up with her.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I saw that you were busy.”
“No. It’s not like that. Cathy is just a psycho. You heard me turning her down.”
She nodded but looked away. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Come on, I wanted to see you, not Cathy.”
“You wanted me to get my data,” I said.
“That was just an excuse,” I admitted, staring at her.
She looked back at me, and I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Finally, she shook her head. “Come by my apartment later. We’ll do it then.”
“All right,” I said.
“See you.” She turned and quickly walked away.
I cursed and headed back into the locker room. Cathy was gone, thankfully, probably off to throw herself at one of the other players.
Cathy didn’t give a fuck about me. There were a lot of girls like Cathy out there in the world. All they cared about was fame and fortune.
Avery was different. She wasn’t throwing herself at me just because I was some football player. Honestly, she seemed like she couldn’t care less about that, and I had to admit that I found it incredibly refreshing.
But this wasn’t good. I could tell she was upset about it, even if she wasn’t coming out and admitting that. I didn’t blame her. From her perspective, it probably looked like I was into it or some shit.
I gathered my stuff up and headed out. I’d hit up my apartment, shower off, and go over to Avery’s.
Maybe then she’d realize that I wasn’t interested in anything but her.
16
Avery
The game had been one wild ride of elation, confusion, anger, and finally more confusion.
The first half was horrible. Gibson didn’t look like himself. It was almost as if he couldn’t find the other players, even when they sometimes looked wide open. He overthrew people, got sacked when he should have run away, and basically did everything wrong.
But the second half was glorious. He looked like himself, throwing the ball hard and accurately, scrambling around the field, making men miss who shouldn’t have missed. He looked beautiful on the field, like he belonged there, like he was at home. Gibson on the field was a shark swimming through water. It was the most natural thing in the world for him.