The day he left is still etched into my brain.
The way he looked at me with dead eyes, silently sayingI’ll see you again. One day.
“Hey, Mae,” Samuel says from the seat in front of me. “Are you coming tonight?”
“To what?”
“The press conference,” Poppy responds, smirking. “They’re kind of fun. They mainly consist of the guys getting berated.”
“I know. I’ve been watching them.”
After hearing me, Nathan turns around and asks, “I thought you said you didn't like football?” A knowing smile toys his lips.
I pinch my eyebrows together. Truthfully, I haven’tjustbeen watching the conferences because I want to learn more about the team I’m supposed to support.
It's because I want to embrace my potential inner horny football fiend and drool over Nathan Slater as he sits at the conference table wearing that cap he looks far too good in.
“Research,” I snap back, and he hits me with a look that has my toes curling.
It isn’t long before we reach the hotel, and I shield my eyes from the flashes of the few paparazzi cameras who wait out front. One particular stocky man stands in my way, refusing to move, and I faintly hear Nathan tell him to “have some respect for women” before he ushers him out of the way.
We’re shown to our rooms. I’m sharing with Madison—courtesy of my mother’s booking—and although she’s a nice girl, I don’t know her too well. She’s pretty quiet. Constantly practising, spending every minute running through our routines. I think she’s secretly terrified of my mom.
I wear jeans and a knitted cardigan for the press conference, finding a seat next to Poppy towards the back of the room. The reporters hum with anticipation as they ready themselves, growing silent when the selected members of the Missarali Storks chosen to represent the team enter the room and take their places on stage behind the long desk.
Nathan scans the room, and it looks like he sighs in relief, causing my eyebrows to furrow.
“He’s looking for our Dad,” Poppy says, following my gaze. She cranes her neck to look at the wave of people before us. “It looks like he’s not here, which is good. Means Nathan can actually relax.”
Darrell is in charge of the questions, which surprises me. I expected Peter to at least make an appearance, but it seems he has better things to do than show up for the team he’s supposed to manage.
“Evan, do you think—”
“If you ask me anything about my son or who his mother is, I’ll get you kicked out of this conference,” is his response as he leans into the microphone, his eyes challenging. He’s an intimidating guy who I don’t think I’ve ever seen smile. If I were the reporter, I would shut my trap.
He doesn’t finish his question.
“Bennett, Riley Donovan has come out with a statement about an argument between the Missarali Storks and the Pittsburgh Pilots. Anything you have to say about it? What happened, and why has Riley turned against a team he, up until now, had a mostly friendly relationship with?”
Bennett gulps, and I can visibly see him choking on his words.
Nathan immediately jumps in. “Riley Donovan has blown a minor disagreement out of proportion. It’ll just be in preparation for our next game against one another. To rile the fans up and get people to watch. We’re all good.”
He’s not spilling any secrets. The perfect way to stay out of the media’s limelight is to refuse to give them what they want.
“That scumbag,” Poppy grumbles as she pulls up a news article on her phone, in which Riley’s criticising The Storks for their poor sportsmanship. He’s butt-hurt about how Nathan treated him at the bar, and like a child, he’s acting out. It’s borderline hilarious.
“God, he’s such a jerk.”
The reporter’s shoulders sag with disappointment, but he doesn’t release the microphone. “Do you not think this will hinder your team, Nathan? You’re the captain, and surely you need to take some kind of responsibility? Do you not even want to defend yourself?”
Nathan narrows his eyes, his jaw ticking. “And why would I benefit from getting involved with Riley Donovan’s drama?”
Poppy audibly growls, and a few reports seated in front of us turn to give us concerned looks.
“It seems to me you’re not concerned with how your team is perceived,” the reporter continues, stepping away from the employee trying to take the microphone away. “What kind of captain does that make you? There’s been an allegation against you, and you have nothing to say.”
Anger bubbles up inside me. These guys don’t deserve this. They play because they love football, and these press conferences do nothing for them. Peter needs a stern talking to.
