Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 7

LOLO'S POV

I wake up to the soft glow of early morning light streaming through my curtains. The warmth of the sun touches my face, and for a split second, everything feels peaceful, almost normal. But then, like a slow wave of cold reality, it all comes crashing back. Last night with Brooks—his touch, his kiss, the way his lips felt against mine—it's all I can think about. My heart flutters at the memory, but it's quickly followed by a gnawing sense of dread.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my mind running circles around itself. My dad's rule has always been clear: no dating the players. It's a line that's never been crossed, not by me, and not by anyone who wanted to stay on good terms with him. But now...fuck, I've crossed it, and I don't know how to go back.

A part of me wants to call Brooks, to hear his voice, and to feel reassured that everything will be okay. But I know I can't. Not yet. Not when I don't even know how to face the consequences of what we're doing. The thought of my dad finding out sends a chill down my spine, and I feel the familiar tightness in my chest that always comes when I'm about to let him down.

I pull myself out of bed, forcing my thoughts into some semblance of order. Today, I have to face him. I have to pretend like everything is normal, like I didn't spend last night tangled up in Brooks' arms, like I didn't almost let things go too far. I drag myself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, hoping it will somehow wash away the guilt that's clinging to me.

As I get dressed, I feel a sense of dread settle over me. My dad and I have always been close, ever since I was little. He was the one who taught me how to throw a football, the one who cheered me on at every school event, and the one who made sure I knew I could be anything I wanted to be. But he was also the one who laid down the law and made it clear that some lines were never to be crossed. And this—dating one of his players—was one of those lines.

By the time I make it downstairs, my mom is already in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she prepares breakfast. She looks up as I enter, a smile spreading across her face.

"Morning, sweetie," she says, her voice warm and comforting. "Did you sleep well?"

I force a smile, nodding as I take a seat at the kitchen island. "Yeah, I did. Thanks."

She sets a plate of pancakes in front of me, her eyes softening as she watches me. "You seem a little off. Everything okay?"

I nod again, trying to keep my voice steady. "Yeah, just... a lot on my mind, I guess."

She doesn't press further, and I'm grateful for that. My mom has always had this way of knowing when I need space and when I need time to sort through my thoughts on my own. But even so, I can feel her eyes on me, watching and waiting for me to open up.

Before I can say anything else, I hear the familiar sound of my dad's footsteps coming down the hall. My heart skips a beat, and I suddenly feel like a little kid again, caught doing something I shouldn't. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as he enters the kitchen.

"Morning, Lolo," he says, his voice gruff but affectionate as he ruffles my hair on his way to the coffee maker.

"Morning, Dad," I reply, my voice a little too cheerful.

He pours himself a cup of coffee, taking a seat across from me on the island. For a moment, we sit in silence, the sound of the coffee maker humming in the background. I can feel his eyes on me, studying me like he always does when he's about to say something serious. My stomach tightens with anticipation.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he says finally, his tone careful, measured.

I swallow hard, nodding. "Okay."