What the actual fuck is happening right now? I sit frozen, my forehead damp and buzzing where Brooks Kingston’s lips have just been.
Marcus looks between us, confusion written across his features. “Um, wow. Brooks Kingston. It’s a pleasure.” He extends his hand.
Brooks smiles and shakes it back, playing the role. Of what, my brain can’t process enough to figure out.
“You bring Sydney breakfast?” Marcus returns the smile.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Brooks’ voice is casual, but there’s an undercurrent I can’t quite place. “We’re together.”
I stir to life, choking on nothing. “Brooks—”
“Since I’ve been recovering from my injury,” he continues, “Sydney and I have realized that, well—we’re in love.”
Marcus’s eyebrows shoot up. “You and Sydney? Together?”
I stare at Brooks, willing my face not to reflect the chaos happening in my brain. What game is he playing?
“It’s relatively new.” I find my voice at last. My cheeks burn, but I force myself to meet Marcus’s gaze. “We wanted to keep it private until...”
“Until I got into town yesterday,” Brooks says, his expression serious. “And you know, while I’m here, I could be an asset to the station. I mean, assuming Sydney’s getting that sports anchor position she deserves.”
Marcus leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Keep talking.”
“I’ve been thinking about the potential. Imagine the ratings boost when I give guest reports on the games. We’re talking exclusive access to one of hockey’s biggest stars.”
Ego much?
But he’s right. And I can’t help but notice that his voice is steady, confident, with none of his usual awkward pauses or grunts. This is Brooks, the professional athlete, the one who gives post-game interviews with cameras shoved in his face.
“The King and the Sport’s Queen,” Marcus muses. “It’s got a certain ring to it.”
My heart races so fast it could burst out of my chest, alien-style. Is Brooks Kingstonactuallyhelping me get the sportscaster job?
“The kind of access no other station in the region could dream of.” Brooks’ hand comes to rest on my shoulder, warm, steady.
Pretend, I remind myself. This is all pretend.
Marcus’s fingers drum against the arm of his chair. “But Donny has some powerful backers... people who contribute significantly to our advertising budget.”
“I’ll do some co-broadcasting with Syd.” Brook’s thumb traces small circles on my shoulder that send shivers down my spine. “And a series of in-depth interviews about the Trout. About my injury and recovery. Exclusive content, only for KBVR.”
Wow.
The Brooks Kingston I know would rather smash into plexiglass than sit for a series of personal interviews.
There’s a pause where I can practically see the wheels turning in Marcus’s head, calculating the potential ratings boost against the risk of angering Donny’s backers.
“All right, Sydney,” he says finally, and my heart leaps into my throat. “You’ve got the position—on a trial basis.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face, even as disbelief washes over me.
I got it. I actually got it.
Am I playing dirty for it? Possibly. But it’s not like Donny’s above playing dirty.
“Let’s shoot your first co-broadcast on Saturday, at the Trout’s opening game in Boise,” Marcus continues, looking back and forth between Brooks and me. “We’ll leak your relationship status Saturday morning before the broadcast to get the buzz going. And if this interview falls flat, or if your relationship doesn’t translate to the ratings boost you’re promising, I’m going to give Donny a try. Understood?”
“Crystal clear.” I fight back the urge to scream with joy. “You won’t regret this, Marcus.”
