They’ve been texting me, asking when I’m free. I want to hang out, but I don’t think my body can handle it. Just the idea of that proximity again makes my breath hitch.
They’ll catch me in my lies. The way my scent pushes through the spray enough to notice. The way I get slick just hearing their voices. I can’t fake stable much longer.
Mrs. Lennox gestures to the screen on the wall to my left, where a freeze-frame of some roughly edited footage is paused on a clip of Ford mid skate-stride. “We’re already integrating the content pipeline with League partners. Social teasers, extra content that won’t go in the film. Perhaps small episodes we can share throughout the season, maybe even platform exclusives. If this format works, you’ll be listed as co-producer across the full documentary series. Social cuts included.”
I nod. “Thank you. That credit means a lot.”
It does. That kind of visibility travels. Gets noticed outside the company. Even if this job implodes, this title and all attached content stay on my reel.
Richard taps his pen once against the table. “It’s well-earned.”
That’s as close as he gets to praise.
Richard glances at his watch. “I’ve got another meeting starting in ten. We’ll regroup in six weeks to review progress and make any directional shifts. Keep everything moving.”
Chairs wheel back as we all stand. Richard gives a quick nod toward the execs and leaves while buttoning his suit jacket.
They murmur something about looking forward to seeing how it all comes together. Mrs. Lennox offers a tight smile, flicks her tablet screen off, and heads for the door.
“We appreciate the work you’re both doing.” Mr. Callahan offers us a nod. “Let us know if anything gets in the way of your production, and we’ll take care of it.” He and the liaison leave the room with Mrs. Lennox.
Doug nudges my shoulder. “You alright? You looked like you really wanted to fight them on having to stay at the house. It’s only for a day and a half. The rest of it will be at the game. I’ll keep you safe from the brutes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I force a smile and a nod. “That’s not it. I’m fine. We’ll just have to make sure we get lots of great footage for them to pull from for their social media.”
I grab my bag and leave before he can say more.
Back in the bathroom, I rinse my wrists under cold water. Trying to calm my skin down. The suppressant spray makes it feel raw. It didn’t used to burn until after that night I spent at the guys’ house.
It’s not enough.
What is my body going to do after days with them?
I just have to get through a little longer than a day in a house with them, and do it three or four more times a month for away games. The thought alone makes my insides flip. I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I have to try.
At least we won’t have to ride on the bus up with them as well.
The bus wasn’t supposed to be part of it. We could’ve taken the company van and followed the bus. At least, that was my plan. Less exposure and more control.
But the League wanted bus footage, something candid for socials since we’re only crossing one state line.
They’re going hard on that front lately; trying to turn the players into personalities. Not just cereal commercials and sports drink ads. There’s a new board over the team. Younger, more tapped into the social media mainstream. They want click rates and follower counts, not just box scores.
I’ve wedged myself into the window seat a few rows from the front. The audio bag sits beside me. My suitcase sits on the floor, jammed against my leg. I’ve cracked the window just enough to pull in air from outside, something fresh that isn’t saturated with pheromones. It helps, but not enough.
They smell too strong. Not just Ford, Jace, and Logan. Their proximity curls heat in my gut in ways I can’t ignore. The rest ofthe Alphas on the team make my stomach turn. Not their fault. Their scent hits wrong, thick and unfiltered in the recirculated air.
Ford’s across the aisle. Logan’s two rows back. Jace is stretched out just behind me. None of them say anything, but their positions feel too intentional. It’s not a coincidence. They’ve boxed me in like a buffer against the others.
Wes isn’t here. He stayed in Heathstead while his shoulder heals. Doesn’t make sense for him to come out just for moral support, when he has physio and other things going on.
Doug is two rows ahead, angling the camera back toward the center aisle to catch the banter and chirping. He hasn’t said much. Just checked the audio levels and offered me trail mix. I said no. He’s focused on getting the shot. I’m focused on staying upright.
The Bears take up the rest of the ride, sprawled across rows like it’s a tour bus. Someone’s shoes are off, another’s eating chips with their mouth open. Ford’s laugh cuts through a story Jace tells, and Logan slouches with his eyes half closed, pretending not to listen.
Doug glances to the side without breaking the frame, still holding the camera steady as he tracks the chaos mid-bus. He lifts the corner of his mouth. It’s as close to a smile I’ve ever seen from him. “We’re getting audio gold back there.”
I rest my head against the window. “They’re too loud.”
