"I, uh, didn’t pick you for a gun person."
"Oh, I’m totally not.I didn’t know my sister was either, but she left it on her list for me to do."I pull the list out of my pocket and hand it over to Ophelia to read.Somehow, sharing this part is getting easier."Are you a gun person?"
She shakes her head."A massage gun is about it.But," Ophelia says, "it could be useful for a book, I guess."
"Wanna do this with me?"Somehow, the thought of doing the things on the list with someone rather than by myself makes them seem not nearly as daunting.
Maybe, just maybe, that was Richie’s point to begin with.
"You really need to get a jersey with TJ’s name on it.That way, the other WAGs know who you’re with."Ophelia’s wearing a shirt that says "Henry" across the back.Considering it’s her name too, it’s not that much of a stretch for her.
"We’re just friends.And if he wants me to wear his jersey, he’s going to have to give me one."I probably should have some Boston Buzzards gear at this point.It’s the third game in a row I’m attending.Instead, I’m wearing a plain black tank top.
"Here, wear this.I have tons of them."Ophelia tosses me a Buzzards T-shirt."Until you get your own."
"I can’t wait to tell him about the gun range.He’s going to be proud of me.No one even had to force me to do it."
I even looked into parasailing, but it doesn’t seem feasible on this trip.Places in the Northeast are closed for the season, so I’ll either have to travel again or wait until next summer.I can probably wait.I’ve made enough progress on the list for now.Richie should be happy with it.
Not to mention that I still won’t be able to accomplish everything, so I really shouldn’t stress, even though stressing is what I do best.
Tonight, the game is much more enjoyable sitting with Ophelia than I’m sure it would be by myself.I’m not even tempted to pull out my book.It goes by quickly, with a win for the good guys, and before I know it, Ophelia’s rushing out of the stadium to go back to the hotel to get ready to go out with her husband.
I’ll just settle in and read.But wait, what if they want to come back to our room?Where would that leave me?I get that Vegas doesn’t sleep, but I don’t want to be wandering around a strange city all by myself all night.
I wonder what TJ plans to do?What’s his normal post-game routine?Ice cream is out.Or is it?I pull out my phone and find several options, the best rated being the Ghirardelli at The LINQ.According to Google, its full name is The LINQ Hotel + Experience.Everything here in Vegas seems to be an experience.
"Are you going to wait for Xavier here or back at the hotel?"I ask Ophelia.
"They ride the team bus, so I’ll meet him back at the hotel," she informs me.
Makes sense since they took the bus there to begin with.Ophelia and I walked over, and we’ll do the same on the return journey as well.Even with the fifteen-minute walk, we still beat the team back to the W.
"Let’s go wait by their room rather than in the lobby.We don’t want to draw any more attention than we have to," Ophelia suggests.
TJ and Xavier are staying a few floors above us.We don’t have to wait outside their room long before the elevator dings and the guys step off.Normally, by the time TJ meets up with his family for post-game ice cream, he’s in shorts and a T-shirt, his slides, and a backwards baseball cap.Tonight, he’s in suit mode.
I have to fan myself, he’s so damn hot.
"Friends.Sure.Friends," Ophelia mutters before running down the hall and launching herself at her husband.He scoops her up, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, and they don’t even bother coming up for air as he pushes open his door.It slams shut behind them, leaving TJ—Tyler—and me standing there, looking at each other.
He said friends call him Tyler.
"Guess I’m not going in," Tyler says, running a hand through his damp hair."This is what sucks about away games."
"You’re not going in, because we’re going out."I pull out my phone and order an Uber.
"Where are we going?"he asks as he follows me toward the elevator.
"First, we’re going to drop your stuff in my room, and then you’re going to trust me."
He gives me a salute."Aye aye, Cap’n."
He takes off his suitcoat—damn—and rolls up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.I finally understand the obsession that my book heroines have with forearms.Yowzas.I do a quick change out of Ophelia’s Boston Buzzards T-shirt into my plain black tank top.I still look way underdressed compared to him, but I don’t have many other options with me.I packed for comfort, not couture.
We don’t say anything until we’re in the back of the car.This is what’s nice about Ubers.I can surprise him with the destination.
"So, how was your day?"he asks."Get up to any trouble?"
