If Beau Echolls could take a swing at me right now and not cost himself his career, he totally would. I get the impression he’s thinking about doing it anyway. I take a deep breath and force the next sentence out of my mouth. “But you stopped that breakaway in the second and you kept Deveau contained most of the game, which is not an easy feat. And I’m telling you that not because the other shit isn’t true but because I believe focusing on the progress we’re making is better than focusing on the mistakes we’re making. And also because I’m not the fucking prick you want me to be.”
The room is still deathly silent probably because I swore, which I rarely do out loud, especially seconds before the media…Someone clears their throat. I look behind me and see four reporters huddled in the doorway. Dammit, I hope they didn’t hear much of that.
If they did, they don’t say anything. Two of the reporters are the regulars from the local Seattle news: Brenda from the TV station and Lloyd from the newspaper. It’s good to see them again. One is a guy I don’t recognize from a Canadian network and the other is Chance Echolls, Beau’s younger brother and a reporter for NBC Sports.
The interviews go well. Even Chance, who I really believe heard all of that rant directed at his brother, only asks me a couple of straightforward questions about being back and the game and the future of the Saints. Once the reporters have been cleared out, I wrap a towel around my waist and get ready to hit the showers. I pull my phone from my suit hanging in the stall and check my messages. I have a text from Stephanie from about forty minutes ago when the game had just ended.
You were a monster out there! Sorry it wasn’t a win.
I smile and text her back with a smiley face emoticon and tell her I’ll call when I get back to the hotel. Ty leans in, like he’s trying to read over my shoulder. I tuck my phone back into the suit jacket.
“Creeper.”
He chuckles. “By the look on your face that was a juicy text.”
“You’ve got your own girl. Have her send you juicy texts,” I say.
“Ah, so you admit it’s a girl putting that stupid look on your face.” Ty walks with me toward the showers. “You finally seal the deal with Steph?”
“Yeah. Sort of,” I reply, not really wanting to share because we’re in public and she’s not some bunny to swap stories about in the shower.
“Sort of?” Ty’s face twists into a look of horror. “Oh, my God, did you forget how? You couldn’t have forgotten how. I mean, Lizzie and you must have been having sex, right? Besides, it’s like riding a bike.”
“I didn’t forget how, asshole.” I roll my eyes. “We hooked up. It was great, for her and for me.”
“So you say, but I’ll take her word for it,” he says as he steps under his shower spray. As he turns his back to the water, and I step under my own stream, he continues. “She’ll tell Maddie how it was and Maddie will tell me. And then I’ll tell you the truth, not some bullshit ego boost Stephanie told you.”
“She wasn’t bullshitting, but thanks for your faith in me.” I roll my eyes, but he’s not looking so he doesn’t see it. It’d actually be kind of awkward if he was looking since I’m naked in the shower and everything. “I’m more worried about what’s next.”
Alex, who is under the shower stream on the other side of me, is of course listening. “Wait. You finally nailed Steph?”
“I didn’t nail her.” God, I hate that term. “I’m not a carpenter.”
“No, you’re a monk,” he replies flatly. “Parsons, get the real scoop from Maddie. If Stephanie is still sexually frustrated, I’ll step in like the sexual superhero I am and fix her little red wagon.”
My spine stiffens. “Not even funny, Rue.”
My voice is hard and deep, and I think that’s why he doesn’t try to defend his cocky bullshit. Instead he turns off his water and wraps a towel around his waist, running a hand through his hair, shaking out the water. He walks out of the shower room, and I watch his back, covered in that massive, crazy tattoo he got a few years ago, disappear.
“You know he’s just being a jackass because he’s a jackass,” Ty says quietly. “He’s been a big supporter of a Westwood–Deveau fornication movement since the beginning.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, it’s not just about the fornication,” I reply, and rinse the soap and shampoo from my body. “I really like her. I see this being something significant. I mean, it already is. Now it’s just nakedly significant too.”
Ty laughs. It echoes off the tile walls. “Nakedly? That’s not really a word, Av.”
I smirk at myself. He’s right. Something about thinking about this thing with me and Steph makes me tongue-tied and slightly inarticulate. Maybe I need to call that PR coach and get a refresher. I’m sure she could walk me through what I need to say to get Stephanie to be my official girlfriend.
I finish showering and head back into the locker room. Alex is half dressed, standing at his cubicle beside mine. Beau is over at his stall, yanking on his clothes with force, like he’s got a personal vendetta against them. He’s got his back to us and his wireless headphones on. They sync to his iPod, which he usually keeps in the pocket of his suit. I hope he’s listening to an anger management podcast. Dick.
“So, seriously, you and Steph, huh?”
My eyes leave Beau’s back and land on Alex, who is buttoning his shirt. I nod. Alex grins at me and it’s a rare sight—because it’s genuine and not snarky or cocky. “Good for you, Avery. Finally.”
I pull on my pants as he buttons the cuffs on his shirt and reaches for his suit jacket hanging on the hook in his stall. “You going to tell Sebastian or you going to let her do it?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admit. “I mean one of us will tell him…when we figure out what we’re telling him.”
“So there’s no plan?” He chuckles.
