“Hey, Dem.” She stops and turns back to me. Her plush red lips are so fucking teasing I already want more. “Delete the dating app.”
I turn away before she does and begin cleaning up the blankets with a giant fucking smile on my face.
The last week has flown by with minimal Demi sightings—aside from seeing her on the sidelines at the game.
I saw her face after we kissed. The panic. The realization. The way she wanted to deny it being fucking magical.
Yeah. Magical. When the hell have I ever used that word to describe a kiss?
I don’t really know where we go from here, but I do know I’m about to see her for the next few hours as she’s covering our game today. I’ll even get some extra moments with her since I’m being mic’d up for today’s matchup. An opportunity I jumped at when Coach mentioned volunteers.
The weather is brutal today as I step out of my truck. There’s a breeze, sure. But the strength of the sun is enough to make any logical person reconsider leaving their air conditioning. I’d bet the UV index is easily a nine or ten right now. Whatever it feels like in the stands or even on this sidewalk, it’s ten times hotter on the field.
I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my pants and I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder before reaching to grab it. The social media team will be perched and ready to get a clip for content of whatever I’m wearing for our game, and lucky for them—I never disappoint.
Today, it’s a burgundy suit and a crisp white T-shirt, complete with all-white sneakers, and paired with my usual watch and my grandfather’s ring.
I keep my sunglasses on as I walk toward the facility and peek at my phone to see who the text is from—thankful I did. Because my eyes roll in a dramatic Demi-fashion as I read the text preview on my screen.
Dad
I’ll be at the game in a couple weeks with your brother. Was thinking we could…
I don’t have the energy to open it right now—it’s the last thing I need to see before getting ready to compete, so I lock my phone and stuff it into the side pocket of the bag. I’ll deal with whatever that says later.
“Let’s go to work, boys!” I make contact with every guy around me in the huddle—handshakes, a little rough housing—whatever it takes to get fired up.
Spotting Demi on the sidelines is easy. If she’s within sight range, I’ll find her. She’s holding a mic and talking into the camera, likely doing some pregame reporting and any kind of injury update.
Her hair is up in a high ponytail with two curled pieces framing her face. But it’s the dress she’s wearing that stops me inmy tracks. Black, sleeveless, with white detailing on the bottom. I know nothing about women’s clothes, but I know that dress was made for her.
“God, she’s beautiful.” My hands land on my hips, and I do the only thing I can do right now—stare.
“You’re mic’d up, man.” Nate nudges my elbow with a shake of his head.
“I hope they heard me. Raise the volume.” I laugh lightly, taking a step back toward the sideline. “Look at her.”
There’s a groaning sound coming from where Nate’s standing, but I ignore him as I smile and finally pull my gaze from her.
The guys gather for a huddle, and I lock in the moment I’m surrounded by my teammates. It’s a feeling like no other, the rush, the adrenaline. You just can’t describe this to someone who hasn’t played the game at this level. It’s one of those rare “you had to be there” kind of moments, and I soak in every goddamn second I’m in this league, because I know how quickly it can change.
“Same energy as last week, my man.” I slap Ford’s shoulder before knocking helmets with Nate, ready to get this game going.
Except, as time goes by, this game is actually turning out to be frustrating as fuck.
Fourth down for the third time in a row, and I’ve yet to see past the forty-yard line. Today hasn’t been our day yet, but I’m determined to turn it around. Our defense is taking the field again, and I give Chase a look before he leaves the sidelines.
“Hold ’em,” I grumble, and he nods before he runs to the field.
We feel Graham’s absence on the line; there’s no way around that fact. I’m excited for the new guys and have faith that they’ll only improve as the season goes on, but right now I’m getting fucking laid out on this grass.
“That’s on me.” Cribley, our new center, comes up in front of me as I’m sitting on the ice bench. “Ninety snuck by too many times. Sorry, man.”
I extend my hand to slap his. “Hey.” I lean forward, giving him my full attention. “We’ve got time to turn this around. Don’t beat yourself up for plays that already happened. We’ll get the ball back and do what we know how to do. Let’s focus on the next drive.”
He nods and walks back over to the bench he was previously seated on while I replay the last series on the tablet in my lap.
I get a glimpse of Demi from the corner of my eye, and she quickly looks away as soon as I lift my head.
