I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before Gerald would inch his way up to that starting position. After all, Warren was getting old — for a professional ball player, anyway. Gerald was twenty-six, just getting into his prime, and after just one month of running drills together, I knew it’d be an honor to be on the field with him.
It was late afternoon by the time we called it, and we plopped down on one of the benches on the sideline of the high school field we’d secured to practice on. We couldn’t use our own facilities until training camp, but that didn’t mean we weren’t resourceful enough to find a way to make it on the field.
After a long swig of water, I relaxed on the bench, taking in the Chicago summer heat and the familiar scent of cleated-dirt and fresh turf. I inhaled deep, letting out a sigh on a smile.
“That smell never gets old,” I commented.
Gerald smirked, nodding as he took a swig from his bottle. “Can you imagine not being a football player? This — the smell, the ball in my hands, the feeling of being on the field — it’s been a part of me since I was four years old. I can’t fathom not having something like this in my life.”
“I hear you. I’ve always wondered at what point we separate from the others, you know? There are the guys who see football as just a sport, or just a pastime when they’re younger. And then…”
“There’s us. The ones who can’t separate it from the rest of our life.”
“The ones who know that football is our life.”
Gerald had his elbows on his knees, and he looked at me over his shoulder. “You’re good, man. Really good. And you came to us at the right time. We need better receiving. I mean, we’ve got Howard and Thompson running for us, but our long game is weak.”
I shook my head, chest tight with a familiar pressure that I somehow found comforting. “I’m going to give it my all at camp. And the preseason games…”
“They might as well be our Super Bowl.”
I chuckled, but with his words, my mind was racing thinking about the upcoming season. I had one chance to prove I was worth the money they paid to get me here, one chance to secure my contract past the stage it was in now. And more than anything, I had one chance to prove that I deserved a spot on that field more than a spot on the sideline.
Gerald kicked back on the bench with me, and we were silent for a while before he nudged my arm. “So, you settling in alright?”
“Getting there. Starting to unpack what little I brought with me.” I mopped the sweat off my forehead again. “Still not used to this humidity, though.”
“Balmy as fuck, isn’t it?” Gerald chuckled, wiping his own forehead. “You met anyone outside the team yet?”
The left side of my mouth curled up, and I knew the sheepish look I gave Gerald answered more than any words could have.
“Ah… who is she?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the truth was I hadn’t stopped thinking about Belle Monroe since she left my condo Friday night. “The interior designer I hired to make my condo look like an adult lives there instead of the college bachelor pad situation I had in San Fran.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll be doing much more than designing your living room.”
“Oh, for sure.” I looked at him with a smirk. “She’s gotta do the whole place.”
“And do you in the whole place, too, right?”
I laughed softly under my breath. “We’ll see if it gets that far.”
At that, Gerald cocked a brow high. “You mean it hasn’t already?” He whistled. “Honestly, that’s a shock. In my experience, it’s usually less than sixty seconds between the time they found out I’m a ball player and my pants are on the floor.”
“Ha, well… she doesn’t know I’m a ball player.”
He frowned. “How the hell?”
“It’s not like I’m famous.”
“Maybe not, but to anyone who follows the Bears… you’re exciting news. I take it she’s not a sports girl, huh?”
“Not even close,” I said, smiling at the memory of how she’d practically gagged at the mention of football.
“And you didn’t tell her? That would have been the first thing out of my mouth. It’s like an instant access pass.”
I grabbed the back of my neck. “Let’s just say I’ve been burned in the past by some girls who were only interested in the fact that I play football and what that can do for them. So, I’m playing my cards safe.”
Gerald was quiet for a long moment, and when I turned to look at him again, he was shaking his head with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You really are a softie, aren’t ya, Kumaka?”
I shoved him, and he laughed, using the momentum to propel him off the bench. “Alright. I’m going to get in some stretching before I head out.”
“Give me a sec and I’ll join,” I said, fishing my phone from my gym bag. I thumbed through until I found Belle’s number, biting my lip as I pressed the call button.
“Hello?”
“Hey, beautiful,” I greeted. “Happy Sunday.”
There was the distinct sound of music on the other end, but it was buffed out quickly, and then a breathy reply. “Happy Sunday to you.” She paused. “You called me.”
“I did. Is that not okay?”
“I guess I just expected a text more so than a call.”
“You sound winded.”
“I’m in the middle of a yoga flow.”
I hummed my approval, which earned me a snort of a laugh.
“Perv.”
“Texting is too informal,” I said, ignoring the fact that I was definitely picturing her bent over and twisted up like a pretzel. “Besides, I wanted to hear the delight in your voice when I asked you to go out with me later this week.”
She chuckled. “And you were so sure you’d get that
