“Nah, it’s been a long day. My brain is fried. Just making sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“Did you have a good practice? You have a big game coming up.”
He shrugged. “It was all right. Coach ran us a little hard today.”
The conversation I overheard in the lobby replayed in my head. One of the assistant coaches had mentioned Nate’s throwing was inconsistent, and a few of his receivers ran the wrong routes. I could sense the pressure was sneaking up on him. Which was why he probably stayed longer than everyone else.
“Do you feel ready for Sunday?”
New York was the rival team in their division. They would be playing their first game away from home. It was going to be a tough matchup.
He leaned back against his locker, crossing his arms. “Did we look ready to you?”
“You guys looked as ready as you can be, but I know expectations are high, so I’m sure you’re feeling the pressure.”
“Pressure comes with the job description.”
“I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”
Maybe it was the exhaustion on his face, or the way practice felt off today, but Nate seemed tired. Not physically, but mentally. I found myself staring at him longer than necessary. Like how his muscles flexed when he folded his arms, the way his damp hair curled at the ends, and the faint stubble along his jaw.
There was a slight slump in his shoulders. A small scratch on his temple and bruising along his biceps. His posture was relaxed. He wasn’t fooling me, though.
It was a subtle reminder of how physical the job really was. These guys took a beating. Every snap was contact, every game left a mark, and they were expected to show up every day and pretend that their bodies weren’t paying the price. Football wasn’t just about strategy and strength. It was a brutal sport. On top of all that, they had to smile for the cameras, answer questions, and please their fans. They put on a brave front and pretended everything was perfect, like nothing bothered them.
I forced my gaze away and stepped back. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Thanks again for agreeing to this.”
He gave me a faint smile. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”
As I stepped out into the hallway, my heart was still racing.
Nate wasn’t the first athlete I ever interviewed and probably wouldn’t be my last. Yet, as I pushed through the door, walking briskly to my car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be harder than expected. It felt like I was already crossing into territory that would be difficult to navigate.
CHAPTER 7
NATE
“You’re early,”I said, standing up to greet Becca.
She looked sharp and put together in a navy blazer with a matching skirt. Her notebook was in one hand, coffee in the other.
Becca was pretty. Not in an over-the-top kind of way, but the type that caught you off guard because she wasn’t trying.
“You sound surprised.” She set her bag down on the table and pulled out a notebook.
“I guess I shouldn’t be.” I gestured for her to take a seat.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her as she leaned across the table to grab her laptop. One second, I was listening to her grumble about her charger being all tangled up, and the next, my gaze was dipping down to her cleavage.
Jesus Christ.
I snapped my eyes upward so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.
I was a grown-ass man who needed to get a grip.
It had been far too long since I got laid.
Thankfully, the door swung open, pulling my attention away from her.
