Pass Interference (7 page)

And that’s what drew him to Sara. She wasn't your typical sycophant, she didn’t flirt with him or suck up to him. Philip had been with a lot of girls, some he liked more than others, naturally. But ever since he became a star quarterback in his freshman year, it was hard to tell whether their interest in him was sincere. Were the girls captivated by him as a person, or by his status as a player?

Where Sara was concerned, the fact he was a football player was more of a detriment than an advantage. She wasn't even a fan of football, and she gave the impression she hated jocks and resented athletes in general.

Interestingly enough, Philip wasn’t at all troubled by that or bothered by her prejudices. In a way, it amused him, and he challenged himself to show her that he wasn’t “just” a jock. There was more to him than met her eye.

Why it was important for him to prove himself to her, he wasn’t even sure—just that it was refreshing to be around someone who wasn’t a fan.

It made him a little sad, though, when he realized how insecure Sara was. From where he sat, she had a lot going for her. She was pretty and smart and sharp and witty. Maybe no one ever told her that. Maybe no one ever encouraged or supported her.

He thought about their drive home from the doctor’s office. She had opened up to him a bit, which helped him understand her a little better. Turned out she was a loner who didn’t have much of a relationship with her family. She felt ignored and unimportant to them, which probably explained the roots of her insecurity. Her parents never validated her, and that just plain seemed wrong.

When she said she preferred staying by herself on campus during the holidays, that just didn’t sit right with Philip. Here he was, planning to enjoy his winter break by spending time with his close-knit family, while Sara was going to be all alone on a deserted campus. For some reason, that thought bothered him. A lot. He didn’t like the idea of her being all alone.

His mind returned to the lecture hall when he heard the professor give the class some suggested reading for winter break. He was about to draw his stylus along his tablet to write himself a note, but he did a double-take when he saw that he’d scribbled Sara’s name there.

Winter break was nearing, and Sara was in the middle of studying for finals and finishing up some lesson plans for tutoring when there was a knock on her dorm room door.

Who on earth could that be?
Sara rarely had visitors other than her Resident Assistant who she was friendly with. Her roommate was hardly ever around; she typically stayed over at her boyfriend du jour’s place rather than sleeping in her own bed, so it probably wasn’t anyone looking for her.

She rose from her desk chair and left her bedroom. When she got to the door, she called, “Who’s there?”

A voice came through the door. “It’s me, Philip.”

Sara looked through the peephole and her heart stopped. Oh my God! What was he doing here? She looked down at the T-shirt and shorts she was wearing. She was a mess. She was not prepared for company, especially when that company was a guy she was so attracted to. “One sec,” she called out in a panic.

She darted to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror. Her shoulders slumped when she glimpsed her disheveled reflection. She quickly ran a brush through her hair and gathered it into a pony tail, but it was hopeless. She’d need more than just a “sec” to make herself presentable. She smeared on some lip balm and then rushed back to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

“Hi,” she said, giving him a half smile, and trying to appear calm, cool, and collected. He entered the room on his crutches. “What’s up?” she asked, closing the door behind him.

He turned to face her, and she noticed he was eyeing her from the top of her head all the way down to her bare feet. Those five extra pounds were haunting her right now. She wanted to hide. She felt so fat in her shorts and was embarrassed that she wasn’t cuter and thinner—and taller. She knew from Philip’s stats that he was six foot one and two hundred and ten pounds, but she never really noticed how tall and muscular he was before, probably because he was almost always sitting when they were together. Compared to him, she was little. That was a good thing, she decided.

“You look cute,” he said nonchalantly, as if he said those words to her every day.

Did he just say she looked cute? Sara looked around the room out of habit, figuring he must be talking to some girl standing behind her. But there was no one else there.

He plopped down on the sofa like he owned the place. “Listen,” he began, as he set his crutches aside and leaned them against the sofa right next to him. “Sorry for stopping by without calling, but I need a favor.”

“Okay.” She hesitantly sat down on the sofa too, but kept a respectable distance. “What is it?”

“It’s big. The favor, I mean.” He looked downward and rubbed the fingers of one hand, as if he was trying to get some dirt off. He looked back up at her. “See, I need a ride to my folks for Christmas break.”

Sara’s eyes widened. Was he asking what she thought he was asking? Her mind started racing a mile a minute, along with her heart rate. She didn’t know what to say, so she stalled. “Don’t college football teams play on Christmas Day?”

“Not all teams,” he explained. “Coach Fairchild is a firm believer in family. Says that people get re-energized by spending time with our families.”

“He obviously never met
my
family,” Sara mumbled under her breath.

“I need to be back by New Year’s Day. Barracudas are playing in the Flamingo Bowl on January 2nd and—”

Sara’s voice went up an octave. “You’re playing?”

“No, no, but I’m traveling with the team. I’ll be on the sidelines cheering. If they win this one, I might be backing up the quarterback in the championship game in mid-January.”

Sara nodded slowly, searching her brain for more stalling tactics. “Um. What about Carter?”

“What about him?”

“Couldn’t he drive you?” Sara wasn’t even sure why she was putting up roadblocks.

“He’s going home for Christmas too.”

“Oh. Um. What about your girlfriend?”

Philip squinted at her. “What girlfriend?”

Was he playing games now? “The bi—” Sara stopped herself before the word bimbo escaped her lips. “Um. The girl you were with the first time I came to your room. The cheerleader. She was sitting on your lap. Remember?”

She could almost see Philip’s inner wheels turning. “Oh. You mean Brittany. She's just a girl who likes to party with the guys. She's not my girlfriend.”

Sara eyed him with more than a little skepticism. “Really? Then why were you kissing her?”

He answered somewhat hesitantly. “Well, if you were paying attention you’d know I wasn’t kissing her. Technically she was kissing me.” He shrugged. “She was just messing around. She does that with all the guys. It doesn't mean anything.”

Surely he could do better than that, Sara decided. “Could have fooled me,” Sara shot back disdainfully, “the way she had her tongue down your throat.”

Philip looked puzzled. “If I didn't know better I'd think you were jealous.” Busted! Sara apparently asked him one too many questions. “Look, she's not my girlfriend, okay? I don't have a girlfriend right now.”

She worked at hiding the smile she felt coming on. Those were exactly the words Sara had been fishing for.

“So…Will you do it? Will you drive me?”

Sara searched Philip’s eyes for an ulterior motive, and she got lost there. His golden brown eyes looking back at her were starting to make her feel squishy inside, and she wished she hadn’t left so much space between them when she sat down. She briefly imagined herself sliding closer and putting her arms around Philip. In her fantasy, he responded by pressing her onto the sofa and kissing her until her lips were raw.

Sara blinked and remembered he was waiting for an answer. She forced herself to look away from his face. In truth, the thought of spending so much time together driving to Naples both thrilled her and terrified her. She was bound to either say something stupid or he’d realize she was not all that interesting.

“Listen, I’d drive myself, but the doctor doesn’t want me putting pressure on my leg for that long a period. It’s a three-and–a-half-hour drive.”

Staring off into space, Sara mumbled, “When are you going?”

Philip paused before answering, looking at Sara as if he was trying to read her thoughts and gauge whether she was leaning toward a yes or a no. “The Monday before Christmas. See, I’m gonna be signing autographs for a fundraiser on campus with some of the other Barracudas the weekend of the twenty-first so I can’t leave until the twenty-third. Can you deal with that? I mean, you said you didn’t have plans for Christmas, right?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “I’ll pay for gas.”

Sara had a million questions, like why wouldn’t he take a bus or a car service or why wouldn’t one of his parents come pick him up? But deep down she knew if she asked many more questions, she’d be looking a gift horse in the mouth. This was an opportunity most girls would kill for. There were probably a million other people he could ask, a million other girls who’d say yes in a heartbeat. How could she say no, and why would she want to? Looking back at him, she nodded, but showed no emotion. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Philip opened his mouth, but he appeared speechless. Finally he said, “Awesome. Thanks Sara.” He surprised her by leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before he started to get up.

When Sara saw how much difficulty he was having, she got off the couch and held her hands out. Philip grasped her hands and rose to his feet, appearing to be in some pain. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He looked down at their joined hands and made no effort to pull away. Sara looked from their hands to his eyes, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Her own discomfort got the best of her. Sara slid her hands out of his and stepped aside to give him clear passage. He picked up his crutches and made his way to the door. As he opened the door, he turned back toward her as if he wanted to say something, but he merely looked at her for a moment and then left.

As soon as he was gone, Sara covered her mouth with both hands to keep herself from squealing too loudly with delight. She clapped her hands and ran in place for a moment. She’d never been so excited in her life. Or so scared.

In an instant, the elation left her body and her shoulders slumped. She knew that the more time she spent around Philip, the harder she was going to fall, and the greater the likelihood she’d get her heart broken.

Sara was on pins and needles during the next week. She was counting down the days to the road trip to Naples, literally marking them off on her tablet’s calendar app. She wasn’t just excited; she was nervous, she couldn’t sleep, and she was almost too stressed to eat. All she could think about was spending three and a half hours in a confined space with Philip. She was so worried she’d have nothing to say that she planned out a list of things to talk about during the drive so Philip wouldn’t think she was as dry as stale toast.

Meanwhile, the on-campus fundraiser was taking place a few days prior to the trip, and everywhere Sara went, she saw flyers and posters promoting the event. It was announced in the EFUsion newsletter and in email blasts to every student on campus every other day.

The fundraiser was being held on the football field at Barracudas Stadium and it was open to the public. Proceeds from the event were going to be split between Toys for Toddlers and the school’s own athletic scholarship program.

She wondered whether Philip would think she was stalking him if she decided to stop by. Would he be annoyed she came, or would he be glad to see her? She wasn’t someone who normally attended any kind of anything having to do with sports, but this was for a good cause, she convinced herself. So she decided to go.

Before heading over to the sports complex, Sara came up with an idea. She went to the Special Ed Department office to use the printer, and she printed off a hard copy of a document from her tablet. She watched as the piece of paper slid out of the HP printer, and then she plucked it out of the paper tray. “Yes! This is perfect,” she told herself as she looked at the item she printed out.

Philip and a bunch of his teammates were stationed at long rectangular tables on the fifty-yard line, signing autographs for twenty dollars apiece. Sara paid the cashier and queued up for an autograph. She wasn’t really surprised to see that the longest line was the one for Philip’s signature. As she got closer, she could see Philip scribbling his name across photo after photo showing him poised to throw a football in his Barracudas uniform. She could hear people asking when he thought he’d be returning to the active roster.

Many of his fans asked him to pose with them for selfie-type pictures. He was always gracious and gave them his twenty-million-dollar smile. Sara sighed as she watched him from her spot in line. His smile was so natural, so charismatic and genuine. He truly was a celebrity, and he handled himself like a pro.

Sara’s first thought was that he was really out of her league, and she should simply stop fantasizing that she could ever be anything more than his tutor. Brushing that thought aside, she took a step forward when the person in front of her departed the line.

Philip had his head down and his pen poised over a photograph as he said, “Who should I make this out to?”

Sara took a deep breath and set a piece of paper on the table in front of him. “I’d like you sign this instead,” she told him.

Philip looked at the document for a long moment. It was his second essay, the one about the moment that changed his life. His head jerked up, and his eyes were wide as he looked at Sara. His surprised expression turned stern. Sara had been smiling a moment before, proud of herself for being so creative, but one stone-faced look from Philip turned her smile upside-down. He looked back down at the piece of paper and quickly signed something. Handing it back to Sara, she grasped it, but he continued to hold onto the other end while looking at her intently.