How am I going to stop him?
Eighteen
MIA
One perkof being on the Nighthawk training campus is that they have one of the coolest cafeterias I’ve ever seen, if that’s what you want to call it. It’s a massive area that acts as the heart of the facility for players and staff. There’s a sitting area that can accommodate up to a hundred and fifty people, flat-screen TVs hanging on the walls and every corner, and an outdoor stone patio complete with a fireplace and brick oven.
The dining hall looks more like an upscale hotel restaurant than a cafeteria, and it’s run like a tight ship by a petite woman with chestnut brown skin and a short blonde pixie cut (Jada Pinkett styled) who is the team’s official dietician.
All I have to do is make a selection and request dinner for two to take on the field and they conveniently package up two scrumptious looking Mediterranean meals of grilled chicken and shrimp skewers, roasted veggies and hummus and pita bread on the side. It’s like I’ve died and gone to food porn heaven. All healthy meals and snacks that are scrumptious and made fresh every single day. What more could a girl ask for?
While I’m waiting for them to package everything up nicely, Tiger Samuels approaches me at the counter.
“Hey, Mia.”
My face brightens once I see it’s him. Samuels has been one of the nicest players I’ve met on the team so far and is always a lot of fun to chat with.
“Hi, Samuels. What’s up with you?”
“Mia, you should really call me Tiger.”
“Doesn’t everyone call you by your last name? I thought that was the protocol around here.”
“Tiger is the name my Mama gave me and I’d like it if one person in this building would use it.”
“Understood.” I smile. “Tiger it is.”
“So where are you sitting for dinner?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m going to take it to down to the field.”
“You’re working with someone through break?”
“Well, no, I’m going to eat with Rush. Just to catch up on things.”
“Oh, I see.”
Samuels (I mean Tiger) seems disappointed and I feel a little bad about it. From what I can tell, he and Rush are friendly and he’s been so welcoming toward me, I’d hate for him to feel as if I’m excluding him. It’s not like I’m going to have Rush’s full attention, anyway. He’s going to be working with Carter.
“Feel free to join us,” I offer. “Rush is working with Carter while we eat.”
His facial expression shifts immediately.
“I’d love to. What did you order?”
“I got the Mediterranean dinner. Chicken and shrimp skewers. They look fantastic.”
“I’ll get an order of that too,” he tells the one of the cafeteria staff. “With extra pita and hummus.”
“Sure thing, Samuels,” the worker says.
“I love pita and hummus too,” I tell him.
“Great minds think alike,” he quips. “We’ll share.”
As we exit the common area with our dinner, I’m surprised to find that Rush is waiting in front of the building in the driver’s seat of a golf cart. His mouth turns downwards into a deep scowl once he sees me exiting the dining commons with Tiger, although I’m not exactly sure why. I thought they were friends.
“Oh great, Rush is here with our ride,” Tiger says facetiously as he grabs the bags out of my hand and offers the crook of his arm to help me inside the cart.
