“I believe I’ve already responded.” Nathan is calm, although I can tell he’s becoming agitated as he nods towards another employee to take the microphone away from the reporter. “I have nothing more to say on the matter.”
“Well, don’t you think—”
“Why are you making such a big deal out of something so insignificant?” I say loudly as I sit with my arms crossed, and Poppy turns to me with wide eyes, her mouth popping open.
She’s a bold character, but it seems even she wouldn’t dare speak out of turn during a press conference.
“Excuse me?” the reporter bites.
“This is a football conference, correct?” I raise my eyebrows. “Why don’t you actually ask him something to do with it instead of focusing on petty drama? If that’s what you’re looking for, go and find some trashy celebrity to harass.”
The corner of Nathan’s lips curve upwards under the brim of his cap, and he chuckles to himself. “You heard the lady. Now, hand the microphone back before youreallyembarrass yourself.”
Protectiveness swarms me. Nathan doesn’t deserve to be subjected to this.
It must be exhausting.
All eyes are on me, and I even see Darrell smirking, shaking his head in disbelief at the prospect that someone would stand up for his boys at a time like this. I stifle a laugh and shuffle further down into my seat, gesturing for the questions to continue.
They do. And they're a whole lot more respectful. Some reporters push the boat out a bit, but the guys refuse to answer anything unrelated to their upcoming game against the Medford Heroes.
Poppy spends the rest of the conference giggling to herself at my brazenness, and once it’s over, the reporters file out, leaving just us and the team.
“That reporter looked like he was about to burst at the seams,” Bennett bellows as he sends me a wink. “Nice work, Mae.”
“Brave of you,” Evan adds.
They leave the room with the others, and Poppy follows Bennett, gazing up at him with bold eyes. If I didn’t know she was adamant about sticking to the no-fraternisation rule, I’d think she had the hots for him.
I turn to leave, but Nathan calls my name. He’s hopping off stage, his triceps flexing, and his large hands are splayed out on the set.
“You didn’t have to do that. That could have majorly backfired if that guy had a temper.”
I shrug. I’m not afraid of a sleazy, grease-covered asshole. “Someone had to stand up to them. And I also learned judo in high school, so I would have been able to beat his ass if he came anywhere near me.”
“Judo?”
I bow my head. “Granted, it was only for one week, but I can land a mean punch.”
“I’m pretty sure punching isn’t allowed in Judo.”
I make a quietpfftnoise. “Likeyoudid Judo.”
“I didn’t, but maybe you could teach me? With your one week's worth of experience.” A mischievous smile tugs his lips upwards.
I fold my arms over my chest, shooting him a stern look. “You may be able to tackle six-foot-five ogre-like men to the ground, Nathan Slater, but I’ll have you know, I’m tougher than I look.”
“Say my full name again.”
“What?” I blink.
“You heard me.” He raises his eyebrows, still smiling.
I pause for a second before saying a firm, “No.” My eyes narrow before I head for the door.
“That’s fine,” Nathan calls after me. “You’ll be saying it sooner or later, princess.”
I stick my middle finger up at him as I leave.
