“Kiss me.”
Her eyes got big and I could see she wanted to argue.
“I said, kiss me,” I said more forcefully.
She looked down, but I saw a hint of her face starting to flush. I reached for her, grasped her behind the neck and kissed her. She put both hands on my chest and stiffened. I leaned back and smiled at her.
“I think we both liked that. I know that I’m not looking for a one-night stand with you. I also know that we don’t have the time to build a relationship. How about we just make out?” I asked.
“What if I want more?” she asked.
“Don’t tempt me. I’m not sure I could resist you,” I predicted.
“Too good to be true,” she repeated and then kissed me again.
We had a nice make-out session and then started talking. I laid back on her bed and got comfortable. At some point, she joined me and we cuddled.
I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing. Shit, it was eleven o’clock.
“Hey, I’m on my way back,” I told my dad.
Saturday June 13
SATURDAY WAS A FEEL-good day. We had a light scrimmage and then we watched video of the highlights from the week. They named a Top 10 list of players at camp. Ty, Isaac, and Bill were on the list for our two schools. John told me I hadn’t made the list because I’d split my time between three positions.
The bus pulled out of Lexington a little after two. We stopped at a buffet on the way home. Coach Hope used the money Mrs. Sullivan gave him to pay the bill. Several of the guys were relieved because they were out of cash.
We got home just after nine o’clock. Bus rides got old very quickly. It did give me time to reflect on what was going on this summer. It seemed like time was rushing by. I just got home and I would be going to USC in a few days. Then my birthday, and a week later I was off to the Elite Quarterback Camp. I was only going to have a couple of weeks this summer just to have fun.
I was one happy boy to find Suzanne in my apartment. How she got in, I have no idea, because I never gave her the code, but she somehow made me forget to ask. Suzanne got a surprise after playing with Mr. Happy just a little bit: he erupted, and boy, did I need that.
“Good Lord, David, don’t you masturbate? I’ve never seen you produce that much,” Suzanne observed.
“I was saving that all for you.”
She wasn’t impressed. She shrugged.
“I’m not worried. You’ll be ready again in a few minutes.”
Sure enough, moments later we were off to the races. Suzanne was exactly what I needed, and she was happy to help me out since she was as needy as I was. What were friends with benefits for?
AFTER SUZANNE WENT home, I called Nancy.
“Hey, it’s David.”
“I’m not sure if it was good or bad what we did because now I miss you,” she complained.
“Look at it this way: you had a new experience and have no regrets. We had fun. If down the road we get together, that’ll be a bonus.”
“You know, you’re right. I did have fun, and I’m glad you were such a gentleman. You made me feel special, even though you’re too slick for your own good.”
“I’ll call you next time I’m headed that way.”
We said our goodbyes.
Chapter 9 – This is Just a California Thing
Wednesday June 25
I ARRIVED AT LAX AND went to the baggage area. It wasn’t the prettiest airport I’d been in, and it seemed like there was a lot of construction going on. I came out and got in line for a cab. Talk about a hot mess. The traffic coming out of the airport was crazy. I just closed my eyes and let the cabbie do his thing.
I’d arrived a day early to meet with Bo Harrington. He had rented practice time at an area high school and arranged for a couple of receivers to work with me. This week I would be attending USC’s ‘Rising Star Camp’ as a way of preparing for the ‘Elite Camp’ the second week in July. Elite would place me front of every recruiter and scout who mattered.
The USC camp was advertised as being for advanced football players. They said the players would possess the skills necessary to play at the highest levels. Bo suggested we get together today so if there were any rough edges, we would have them worked out before camp began. The USC camp was only two days, so I couldn’t afford to have a bad day.
Bo was one of the coaches for both the USC and Elite camps. He was working with me and Hunter Green, a big-time prospect out of San Diego. Hunter was about to begin his senior year and being recruited heavily. Bo arranged for us to stay at a hotel within walking distance of everything we’d be doing while we were here. Hunter would also be my roommate.
I sent Bo a text telling him I was almost to the hotel. I was paying the cabbie when Bo came out of nowhere and gave me a big hug. He grabbed one of my bags and we went inside. He had already registered us, so we went straight to my room. As we walked, we got caught up.
He knocked at the door and Hunter answered. He was built like a lineman, gut and all. I would guess he was over two hundred fifty pounds, and a couple of inches shorter than I was. Bo made the introductions.
“Hunter, I want you to meet David. He’s one of my clients. David, this is Hunter. He hired me this summer to get him ready for the fall.”
We shook each other’s hands.
“I didn’t know which side of the room you wanted, so I haven’t claimed a bed yet. I hear you get up early to run, so it might be better if you take the one closest to the bathroom,” Hunter offered.
“That might work best. When I was out here last month, I tended to get up early because my internal clock is two hours ahead,” I said.
“You guys get settled and meet me out front in thirty minutes,” Bo told us.
After Bo left, we unpacked and got to know each other. Hunter was an only child; his dad was in the Navy and his mom was an executive secretary. He didn’t have a girlfriend ... ever. He wanted one ... badly. He seemed like a great guy.
WHEN WE ARRIVED AT the high school I took a moment to appreciate the weather in LA. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and it was in the mid-80s. It was obvious why so many people wanted to call this home. It was perfect.
Bo had video equipment set up with three angles: he had a camera on the ground in front of us; one high behind; and a wide-angle from the side. He had garbage cans set up for the fifteen-yard down-and-out, the ten-yard buttonhook, and the thirty-yard touch pass where the can was sitting straight up.
For this drill, Bo would call out a number and you threw to the garbage can he called out.
“Who wants to go first?” Bo asked.
Since Hunter was looking at his shoes, I stepped up. I ended up going eleven of fifteen.
“Good job, David, you finished strong with five in a row. You’re up, Hunter. Remember, just throw it, don’t aim it,” Bo coached us.
Hunter looked like he was trying to stack greasy BBs on a hot July afternoon. He was overstriding, had a weird hitch in his throw, and couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. I was looking around to see if I was being punked. Bo was stunned speechless.
“You can only get better,” I offered.
Hunter burst out laughing. Bo and I looked at him like he had lost his mind.
“Sorry, I was just goofing you guys. Let me do it again?”
“Hunter, we don’t have time to fool around,” Bo said, obviously pissed.
“Sorry, Bo, it won’t happen again.”
The second time through, Hunter hit twelve of fifteen. Bo was still pissed, so he had him go run five laps around the field while he set up the next drill.
“David, be careful with Hunter because he’s a jokester. He’ll try to pull one over on you if you aren’t careful. I’ve found if you don’t take his shit, he settles down and can focus. So if I come across as a dick, I’m just coaching him the way he responds best.”