TJ
Istep out of the locker room showers and saunter over to my cubby. What started out as me forgetting my towel one time has turned into a tradition. This far into the season—and since I’ve been doing this for two years now—I’m not about to change things. In the words of Michael Scott, football players may not be superstitious, but we are a little stitious.
“Dude, put a towel on,” Poe grumbles, holding up a hand to cover his face.
I smirk. That’s exactly how Poe always responds. It makes me feel like we’re firing on all cylinders ahead of our game in Buffalo this weekend. We haven’t been as dominant this season as we were during our Super Bowl run last season, but we’re playing scrappy, and I like our chances. We’re gelling like usual in the locker room, and if I have to walk around naked to keep things status quo, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
“Everything is better when I let myself air dry,” I quip.
“Better forwho?” Poe mutters, and I chuckle.
I start putting myself back together in my post-practice gear. River Foxes sweatshirt. Gray sweatpants. I pull on my socks, humming a song I can’t get out of my head. I realize it’s “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” when a throat clears behind me. I look over my shoulder to see Anton holding up his cell phone.
“Why is Rose telling me to ask you about Lucy Dupree?” he asks, his eyebrows arched.
I lose my balance and tip forward into the locker.
“Graceful,” Del deadpans from next to Anton when I right myself and turn toward them.
“Care to explain?” Anton presses.
“How did she—” I press my lips together. “Curse Rose and her superspy abilities.”
Anton snorts. “Don’t curse my woman, Teej. But she does have some pretty amazing abilities.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Nope. Don’t want to hear anything about that.” Poe plugs his ears, and Anton grins.
“What gives?” Anton waves his phone in front of me.
I sigh, plopping down into my locker as the three of them circle up. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to keep my interactions with Lucy Dupree a secret from them for long. Honestly, it’s impressive I made it from Sunday to Thursday without someone sniffing us out.
Not that there’s anything to sniff. But these guys are the brothers I never had. We know things about each other. We share. Healthy male relationships and all that. Besides, I think it makes us better on the field since we’re so invested in each other’s well-being.
“Lucy Dupree is Cinderella,” I tell them.
Three jaws drop in unison.
Anton recovers first. “Lucy Dupree?TheLucy Dupree?”
“The one and only.”
Del lets out a low whistle. “How’d you track her down?”
“I didn’t. She found me.” I spend the next few minutes telling them about Sunday. “So we’re friends now, I guess.”
Poe frowns. “Is she as stuck-up and entitled as she was on that stage? What was that for again?”
“The People’s Picks,” Del supplies. “She really snapped.”
Anton scrolls through his phone. “I’ve got the video right here.” He spins it around, and the replay is rolling before I can say I’d rather not watch it.
I won’t admit to the guys I’ve watched it every night this week. I told Lucy we didn’t have to talk about it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. The woman I’ve gotten to know seems so different from the woman standing on the stage in the video, off to the side of her stepmom and stepsisters as they’re accepting the award for Best Social Media Family.
I hold my breath because I know what comes next.
Another social media sibling duo charges the stage and grabs the trophy from Kait, one of the Dupree sisters. They get into a tug-of-war. They’re screaming at each other. The crowd is losing its mind. Lucy’s stepmom bursts into tears, and then I zone in on Lucy. Her hands go to fists at her sides, and she strides toward the microphone. She rips it off its stand and says, “Enough. Stop it, all of you! Right now! Would you look at yourselves? You are being childish and stupid. Don’t any of you get it? None of this matters. None ofyoumatter. This is vapid and irrelevant, and you all should just get over yourselves and shut up. Nobody cares who won this award. Or nobodyshouldcare. Social media is not real life. It’s entertainment. We’re all being paid way too much money to do absolutely nothing but be a distraction for the masses who are too stupid to do anything better with their time. Please, just stop all of this.”
The entire room goes silent. No one moves. The fight on the stage stalls out as everyone turns to stare at Lucy, their expressions incredulous.
