My legs stretch out as I cradle the ball under my arm. I feel my breaths coming in long, easy pants. That sexy little reporter may think all I do is fuck my way through the summer, but in reality I train every day. Football is my life. Well, football and raising my kid sister.
I finish the play, ball still successfully in hand. I’m known for my speed and dexterity, but really wide receivers have to be smart, too, just like the quarterbacks. Plays change in subtle ways based on what the other team is doing, and I have to be mentally sharp.
I bet the little bench warmer reporter doesn’t have that right about me, either. Probably thinks I’m just another jock.
My team gathers around me to celebrate the yards I gave us, and then we take a water break while the televised game goes to commercial.
Walking back with the hyped up guys who know we have all but won our first preseason game, my eyes scan the line of field-side reporters with their tripods and press badges. I don’t know why it matters, but I want to know that snarky little honey blonde reporter saw my smooth moves just now. I fight back disappointment when I don’t see her.
I do catch the red-lipped grin and predatory gaze of Giselle, a curvy dancer who pins her eyes on me any chance she gets.
“You’ve got a fan. Nine-o’clock,” Hawk laughs as he chest bumps my shoulder.
“Hell no.” I keep my eyes to myself. Cheerleaders sleeping with athletes is a huge breach of contract. Not worth it, no matter how easy Giselle has made herself to be.
“Oh, I guess smart mouthed reporters are more your style as of this morning.” He laughs again. “She was cute. What was her name? Amy?”
“Avery Monroe,” I correct him as I take a swig of my electrolyte drink.
He winks, still playing dumb, and I glare at him for baiting me like that. “Oh, that’s right. Avery.” He draws out her name as if it’s precious incense from the gods themselves.
“Knock it off, bro.” I scan the sidelines for a glimpse of Avery again.
“Damn, my man, you have it bad for her.”
I ignore him.
“Hey, if you wanna see her again so bad, you should tell the PR team to bring her on as one of our shadow reporters.” He waggles his brows at me as he wipes sweat off his forehead.
“Hawk. You’re on the next play,” Coach barks out. “Jax, bench this one.”
I nod, glad for a minute to get my head back in the game.
Hawk gives me a teasing look fueled by a little too muchglee. “Yeah, enjoy that bench…maybe think of your reporter warming it with you…or on you. Your choice.”
I throw a towel at his retreating form. Why I had to pick such a jackass as my closest friend, I’ll never know. Wesley “Hawk” Hawthorne knows me better than just about anyone. And he knows my secrets.
“Dude, that catch was brutal, man!” one of the guys says to Hawk in the locker room.
He grins, eating it up. “I bet I jumped at least four feet for that one.”
When I joined this team he was the one who showed me how to hide behind bravado and ultra smooth charm to entertain the press and distract them from real life. He goes out a lot and gives the press lots of sex-fueled gossip to write about rather than his real life or trying to find dirt from his past. It’s a good strategy because it works.
I’m no playboy, but I try to keep those rumors going too, just to protect Riley. They stay focused on my nonexistent conquests and Riley gets to live life under the radar.
The stupid rumors and “leaked” sightings of that cheerleader Giselle and me were all staged after the fact. We were both at the same club, but just not there together. I didn’t even speak to her that night. Apparently, she loved the attention of being in the media and has made it crystal clear that she’d love to do it again…for real next time.
Not happening. But the press was getting too interested in my personal life so they had to be distracted.
“My man,” a rookie says to me, his eyes bright. “That was a solid play you did. Gained us the yards to crush ‘em with Hawk in the next play.”
I fist bump the kid, talking shop about the game all whilemy eye is on the wall clock. I promised Riley I would take her to her ballet class tonight.
Coach gives us his requisite pep talk and then I shower, still hearing the guys talk about the game. It’s just the preseason but games like this give us the momentum we’ll need to start the season strong.
I soap up my body, feeling the hard planes of my lean muscles. In my own stall, I let my mind wander. It lands on her. The little bench warmer. That unapologetically authentic reporter.
Avery.
