All The Wrong Plays by C.W. Farnsworth EPB & PDF

All The Wrong Plays by C.W. Farnsworth EPB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Authors: C.W. Farnsworth
• Language: English
• Genre:  Sports Romance
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 3.3 MB
• Price: Free

SOPHIA
There’s something inspiring about sunshine.
Even when you want to ignore it, you can’t. It beams and brightens
and continues shining. It forces you to acknowledge its presence.
It never hides, which is exactly what I’m currently doing.
Some irritation seeps away as I slouch against the back of the plastic
chair and prop my Adidas up on the empty seat in front of me.
The sneakers don’t go with the rest of my outfit. They were a lastminute change before leaving my apartment, after Noah told me the fun
afternoon he had planned for us was taking place here.

It’s bad enough that I’m stuck in the last place I’d voluntarily choose to
spend a Saturday afternoon. I wasn’t going to chance the heeled sandals I
was planning to wear with this dress getting ruined. Or waste cute shoes on
a visit to a football stadium.

At least the sunshine is out.
And all the way up here, away from the commotion and the fans, it’s
easy to pretend that I’m soaking up vitamin D somewhere else.
For the first time since we arrived at Sieg Stadium, I relax.
The hard, hot plastic isn’t the most comfortable of resting spots, but at
least there’s no one blabbing in my ear and rattling off stats anyone with
access to a computer could learn. If they wanted to.

Noah Hahn heard my last name and thought football, same as everyone
else. Assumed I love the sport, same as everyone else, proving he didn’t
listen to much of what I said when we flirted in a bar last weekend. And
then decided the perfect surprise outing this weekend would be to take me
to a FC Kluvberg scrimmage.

I’ve never actually said the words I hate football to him, but I obviously
should have. I thought quickly changing the subject each and every time he
brought the sport up would convey that clearly.
I was wrong.
Or Noah is just that oblivious.
Same result—me, here.

There’s no need to pretend I’m watching the pitch from the fourth-tolast row of the balcony, so I tilt my head back to let the afternoon sunlight
warm my face. Basking in the bright rays helps wash away more of my
lingering annoyance. The barest of breezes blows a few blonde strands
across my cheek.

I told Noah I was getting a soda five minutes ago. The stadium is
nowhere near its full capacity of seventy thousand, as evidenced by all the
empty seats around me. Any self-respecting fan committed enough to come
to a friendly game—a preseason scrimmage before the season officially
begins in mid-August—purchased seats in one of the lower levels, closer to
the action, like Noah.

I’m up here for the solitude, not the view. I figure I can enjoy this
respite for another ten minutes before heading back down to the edge of the
field. I should be planning out what I’ll say to Noah after the game ends—
It’s not you; it’s your obsession with football, maybe?—but instead I tilt my
head back, close my eyes, and soak in the sun.

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