1
Rush
Irolled my shoulders back and stretched my neck from side to side as I walked down the hall toward the press conference room. My football jersey was covered in grass stains and sweat, my brown hair damp and mussed.
Our first game had only ended twenty minutes ago, and now a few of us were expected to do interviews. I had hoped to take a quick shower before being summoned, but I hadn't been so lucky. I tugged on the neck of my navy jersey, the feel of it and the pads seeming suddenly tight.
Doing postgame press conferences was the only thing I didn't like about being a college football player. Put me on a field with thousands of people and I loved it, but being in a room full of journalists had me constantly feeling on the verge of throwing up.
A door opened ahead of us, and a small gangly guy stuck his head out, his too-big headset wobbling slightly. He looked at us in both fear and admiration. He adjusted his headset and fidgeted with his clipboard. His nervousness had me assuming he was a freshman.
Thankfully I'd gotten to skip the whole awkward freshman stage of college last year. Being on the football team had automatically made me popular and loved by all. This school was obsessed with football, and as players we were practically royalty around here.
The kid said something into his headset and waved us in. We stayed just inside the door until we heard a woman's voice announce us over the speakers.
"We are joined now by Waterford University's head football coach, Ian Matthews, as well as quarterback Wilder Brooks, wide receiver Rush Monroe, and defensive linebacker Slate Donahue."
I walked out into the quiet room filled with reporters and made my way to the chair behind my name tag. Pulling out my chair I took a seat, resting my arms on the table and trying to look relaxed as cameras turned in my direction.
Scanning the people in front of me with a forced look of boredom on my face, I silently pleaded there wouldn't be too many questions for me. Wilder was the star who got the majority of the questions, and Slate was the cocky one who jumped in to answer any question and would usually add to things other people had said.
I continued my scan of the room until my eyes landed on a beautiful girl with long curly brown hair. I sat up straighter. I didn't think it was possible, but she had become even more gorgeous since the last time I'd seen her at the end of the school year. It had only been a few months, but summer had been good to her. The sleeveless blouse she wore showed off her tanned skin and the thin tan lines that went up around her neck. She must have spent a good amount of time at the pool.
In a swimsuit.
Gosh, why did my brain have to go there? I needed to focus on this press conference, not think about her in a bikini. Although I'm pretty sure I would have a heart attack if I were to see her in a swimsuit.
I'd be embarrassed to admit out loud how many times I'd thought about the Halloween party last year with her in that angel costume, looking anything but sweet and innocent. It had been the most skin I'd ever seen her show, and it had been physically painful—in both good and bad ways. I had tried not to stare at her all night like a creeper but had failed miserably. Instead, I prided myself on the fact that I had been able to stay away from her that night, even though everything in me had wanted to go talk to her. And if I'm being honest, do a lot more than talking.
She looked up from her phone and our eyes locked, her green eyes hypnotizing me like they always did, but it was only a second before she looked away, turning her focus back to the phone in her hands.
Slate's deep voice broke through my thoughts. "If you keep looking at her like you want to eat her, Coach will have your neck."
He was right. Coach was only three chairs down, and if I wasn't careful, I'd be in huge trouble.
I tore my eyes away from her and cleared my throat, turning my attention to Slate. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I said as nonchalantly as possible.
He scoffed at me. "Yeah, right. Just keep the drool to a minimum."
I shook my head, a small smile on my face. It wasn't exactly a secret between Slate and me that I had a thing for Coach's stepdaughter. He teased me about it relentlessly, but I always claimed to not know what he was referring to.
Soon the conference started, the questions easy since we had won our game tonight. I'd only had to answer two questions so far when an arm raised on the other side of the room. Of course she had chosen to sit as far away from me as possible.
When the announcer said she could now ask her questions, she stood. Her skirt had ridden up on her legs from sitting, hitting her a little higher than mid-thigh. She quickly adjusted her skirt, pulling it down, and I hurried to avert my eyes from her legs.
"Scarlet Davis, withThe Wolf's Print," she said, introducing herself, the hint of her Southern accent filling the room. "Rush, what was working well tonight with you and Wilder down the field picking up first downs play after play?"
Her question to me threw me off. I had been sure she wouldn't talk to me, not even in a setting like this. She avoided me like the plague, and in times when she couldn't, she'd pretend I didn't exist.
But hearing her say my name now brought back the memory of the only other time she'd ever said it. It had been almost a year ago when I'd had her in my arms, one of my hands in her silky curls as I kissed down her neck, my name leaving her lips on a soft exhale.
I shifted in my seat and tried to remember her question. This was definitely not the time to be thinking about that particular memory. "Uh, yeah, um, Wilder and I did work really well together tonight. I think it helps that we trust each other and respect each other's talent. This past year we've spent a lot of time together on and off the field, so being able to read what the other is thinking is getting easier."
She nodded. Her professional manner seemed to slip as a more calculated look crossed her face. "Would you say that tonight was probably the best you two have played together since starting on the team?"
Again I was confused that she was still speaking to me. Each journalist was only allowed a few questions, and I had assumed she would use them on Coach Matthews and Wilder.
"Um, yeah, I'd agree with that."
