“Sorry.” I unplug my phone from the portable charger I’ve been using the last hour and slip it in my pocket. “I’ve been busy with work.”
“Is it just work? Or is your attention going other places too?”
I glance up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Avery,” he says. “I figured y’all are spending time together.”
“Oh.” I rub the back of my neck. “We are, but it’s only a couple nights a week.”
“How’s that going?”
“Good. We’re having fun.”
“I’m glad. You deserve to have some fun, Reid, and I’m glad you found someone you like hanging out with.”
“Yeah.” I bite back a smile because Ireallylike hanging out with her. “Me too. Have you seen her today?”
“I saw her talking with some guy in a suit a little while ago. It seemed like they were having a good time.” Dallas shrugs and heads for the water cooler. “They were over by the tunnel.”
I narrow my eyes and look in that direction, finding her right away.
Sheistalking to a guy in a suit.
Laughing, too, with her head thrown back and her shoulders shaking.
That’s her real laugh, the one she reserves for things that are really, really funny.
It’s usually followed by a snort and a hand over her mouth, trying to hide the fact that she’s giggling uncontrollably, and who thefuckis this douchebag who’s taking up her time?
I roll my shoulders and glance at Brandy, one of our interns. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her. “Can you make sure you get some video of the warmups and the pregame huddle so we can post it before kickoff?”
“Of course,” she says excitedly, and I know I’m going to come back to more content than I could ever need. “Thanks, Reid.”
I make my way to Avery. I get stopped a handful of times by people wanting to say hello. Allen, the head photographer, asks me about a player photoshoot next week. Britta, one of the cheerleaders, asks me if we’re still on for the feature I’m doing on the dancers tomorrow.
It takes me longer than I’d like to break free from the conversations, but when I finally make it over to the tunnel, Avery is still laughing.
“Hey,” I say, and she turns to look at me.
Her smile stretches wider when her eyes meet mine, and she tips her head to the side as she looks me up and down.
“Hey,” she answers. “New sneakers?”
“Oh.” I lift a foot, showing off the Nikes I bought two days ago. “Yeah.”
“I like them.” She glances back at the man in the suit, and Ihatehow he’s staring at her. “Reid, this is Andrew. This is his first time in Baltimore, and I was explaining some of our traditions to him.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, stiffly shaking his hand.
“You too.” Andrew doesn’t give me more than three seconds of his time before he’s looking at Avery again. Stepping closer to her and leaning over her shoulder. “Tell me more about the song, Avery.”
“Oh.” She brightens and pulls out her phone, tapping on the screen. “I can’t take all the credit. I met Rich Royce, the producer of the song, in a bar, and the idea came to us over a pitcher of margaritas. I can’t believe how receptive the public is to it, and it makes me happy so many people are cheering for us to win just so they can hear it.”
“It’s genius,” Andrew says, and Avery blushes. “I know the Titans have won Social Media Account of the Year the last three years, but I think the outcome is going to be very different this season.”
Avery glances at me and sticks out her tongue. “Hear that, Duncan? Your reign is going to end soon.”
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” I say, sliding my hands into my pockets.
