I start typing:
@OneLastLine:
Honestly? I haven’t had the chance to meet someone I really click with in real life. Meeting people “out in the wild” isn’t easy for me. I work a lot. I travel often. My schedule isn’t exactly ideal for building a connection, and I don’t really have the kind of lifestyle where casual dating works. And then there are the guys who just want a hook up, and I’m not really up for a fling. I like to have fun, but I’m ready for something that lasts. Someone to grow with.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
His response comes through almost immediately.
@HalfWritten:
That makes a lot of sense. I think people underestimate how hard it is to find something real when your life moves fast. And for what it’s worth… I think knowing what you want is a good thing. More people should be that honest.
I exhale slowly, a tiny bit of tension I didn’t realize I was holding easing from my chest. That’s a kinder response than I was expecting.
@OneLastLine:
I hate to break the vibe, but it’s almost 1:00 a.m. and I have to get up really early.
@HalfWritten:
Same. I’ve got to be up in five hours.
But I’m really glad you messaged me.
@OneLastLine:
Me too.
@HalfWritten:
Would you… want to talk again?
I don’t hesitate this time.
@OneLastLine:
Yeah. I’d like that.
I smile again. And for a moment, I forget about the death-glaring goalkeeper I have to deal with tomorrow. I forget the stress, the comments, the fact that my job has officially turned into a hot man babysitting service.
For now, there’s just this, a quiet space, a glowing screen, and someone on the other side who already makes me feel… seen.
Chapter 4
The sun isn’t even fully up yet, and I’m already pulling into the stadium parking lot with an iced chai in one hand and determination in the other.
First team practice of the season, first away game around the corner, and first full day dealing with the brooding Irish goalkeeper whose fanbase is breaking my DMs. And tomorrow? The stakes get even higher. For the first time in Strikers’ history, the stadium will be packed not for a game, but for a welcome event.Rogue’swelcome event. Fans, VIPs, famous faces, athletes, singers, models, you name it, all here for him, and I have to make sure absolutely nothing goes wrong.
My phone buzzes in my tote bag, so I tug it out as I walk toward the side entrance.
Anna—a.k.a. my younger sister, Marianna, a.k.a. my favorite agent of chaos—flashes across the screen.
“Hey,” I answer, wishing I could crawl back into bed.
“Well, well, well,” she purrs. “Look who remembered she has a sister. I haven’t heard from you since your big day yesterday with the European hottie.”
I groan. “Do not call him that.”
