Drew
Each time I open social media, a new photograph or video of Will appears. It’s like the algorithm wants me to do my job while drowning in an ocean of uninvited—and equally unhelpful—thoughts.
How many different women can this boy be pictured with in one night?
Sure, he isn’t actually making out with any of them, but if the two blondes in the photo I’m currently looking at could straddle his thick hockey thighs, I have zero doubt that they would.
“Living up to his reputation again,” Lydia singsongs in a voice that is way too upbeat to be genuine.
She continues viewing my laptop from over my shoulder, and after a few more seconds of scrolling on Instagram, I close the lid and spin around in my chair to face her.
“Can I help you?”
Like always, she perches her ass on the corner of my L-shaped desk and smirks.
“How many women do you think he’s slept with?”
Immediately, memories of berry waffles, black coffee, and brown eyes burning with desire come flooding back. After I climbed out of Will’s car and returned to the Waffle House,I sent precisely two emails out of the dozen I needed to that morning.
Truthfully, this week, I’ve been so unproductive that I might as well have taken it off sick. Will’s confession has been on repeat since the day the Rogues left for Pittsburg. The online images from this away series have only made things harder.
Was everything he said bullshit?
Was I that easy to forget after I told him that nothing could happen between us?
Maybe hisattractionto me was all a joke that I somehow didn’t get?
No. There’s no way he would fuck around with me over something like that.
“Repeet will love that he’s not only insulting his teammates, but back to his playboy ways,” Lydia sarcastically adds.
“Actually …” I cross my legs over at the knee and sound every bit as satisfied as I feel to share this next bit of news with my colleague. Lydia could only dream of receiving the kind of email I did this morning. “That’s where you’re wrong. You can call him a bad boy or playboy, but Repeet still wants to meet with him in Brooklyn.”
Her mouth pops open, and she immediately clamps it shut. “I thought they pulled away from a deal back in the summer.”
I lift a shoulder like their interest in my client is a mystery to me, too, when we all know exactly why Will is drawing in big-name brands—you cannot keep talent down, and his physical image makes the perfect poster boy.
I also think him meeting Kevin Rogers at the gala helped to strengthen his chances. There’s nothing like looking into someone’s eyes to gauge their level of sincerity.
Another wave of uninvited memories comes crashing to the front of my brain.
“I really fucking like you.”
Tingles accompany the gravelly tone in Will’s voice as I recall his declaration for the hundredth time.
Lydia’s gaze drops down the length of my body, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
I uncross my legs and spin back to my laptop, panicked that my body language screams of what’s happening in my head.
Don’t be ridiculous, Drew. Lydia may be a manipulative troublemaker, but she isn’t a mind reader.
“I’ll assume that you’re accompanying him to New York then?” There’s an edge of something in Lydia’s tone that I don’t altogether like.
I choose to ignore it and open my laptop, navigating to Kevin’s email so she can witness his invite for herself. After a few seconds, I open up a new message addressed to Will and begin typing a very professional email, confirming the invite from Repeet, along with the day, time, and place of the proposed meeting.
Lydia is still hovering behind me when I hit Send.
“Why wouldn’t I attend the meeting?”
