Page 5 of Lavender and Linebackers

Ryder

This is complete and utter bullshit.

After they handed Alice and me both a folder, they told us they’d also sent us an email and excitedly announced that they looked forward to our photo shoot in a few days.

That’s right, a photo shoot with Alice freaking Monarch.

Seriously, what did I do in a past life to land myself in this situation? Unbelievable.

Did I know that she had tried out for the Tarpons? Yes. But did it occur to me that there was a possibility I’d have to work with her? No. She’s always wanted to be a cheerleader for the Tarpons, but I didn’t think I would be forced to see her on day one.

Day. One.

Following her out of the room, I think back to the all-staff meeting this morning. My first professional team meeting, the one to kick off the season that I waited months for, and I was inspired by Coach Richter’s speech that tears filled my eyes. Pride. Belonging. Relief that I’d finally made it this far. All of these things had coursed through me. It’s one thing to be a part of an organization, but this one, it’s special, for lack of a better word. It’s magical.

Victory starts in the heart.

I felt it then, this connection to my new team, but to have those words given back to me in this meeting and have them align with something that Alice is doing somehow changed things and took a bit of its luster. I don’t want to share anything with Alice and definitely not anything related to my heart. I did that once already, and I am never doing it again. She broke me, she broke my heart, and I will never forget that.

When I push through the front door of the facility, it ricochets off the wall from the force. I’m so lost in my head I forget that she’s also walking out. I damn near run into her when she stops and spins around to face me in her ridiculously sexy shoes. Alice was never tall. Sometime during high school, she settled at just under five foot five, but with these shoes, the top of her head hits my chin.

“Ryder.” She says my name in a tone I’ve never heard before. A tone that says she’s already exasperated with me even though I’ve done nothing.

Instead of answering her, my jaw locks with annoyance. I’m aggravated that she’s speaking to me, but I also swear this girl went to college and had the biggest glow-up of all glow-ups, and she’s even more gorgeous than I remember.

Fuck my life.

“Are we going to have a problem here?” she asks, propping her hands on her waist. Her tiny waist, which at one point was the width of one of my hands.

A problem?

Yeah, we have a big fucking problem. I haven’t spoken to this girl in over four years, and she just swings attitude at me? Hell no.

My lips pinch together even tighter, my one hand clutches the folder a little too hard, while the other squeezes into a fist, and I push past her to head to my truck.

“Ryder!”

I stop, my back to her and straight as a board, because under no circumstances do I want to continue to face her. God, she’s so beautiful. My chest aches already. It’s been maybe thirty minutes, and she’s already imprinted on me. Then again, maybe that imprint never left. Internally, I growl in annoyance. Annoyance at her, but mostly at me. This reaction is ridiculous, and it pisses me off even more than I already am.

“What, Alice?” I snap.

“Still an asshole, I see.”

At this, I glance over my shoulder to find brown eyes shooting sparks of fire at me. “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes.” She takes a step toward me, tilting her head back to glare, and her long brown hair that almost reaches her waist falls in perfect waves. “But let me tell you something. You will not mess this up for me.” She points her finger at me.

My brows pull down. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No, I’m not fucking kidding you, and don’t talk to me like that. This is not a locker room, and I’m not one of your friends.”

Shame punches me in the gut. I’m not a rude person by nature, but as she waves her arm in front of me and the smell of lavender hits my senses, I forget the chastisement. I instantly associate that smell with her, and my brain rewires to a different time. Along with the color, she claimed this scent years ago as her signature scent, and I’ve never been able to escape it. Back then, I loved it, but since then, I’ve hated it. Room fresheners, candles, soaps, lotions—no matter where the scent came from, I immediately thought of her. Someone I never wanted to think about again.

I take a step back from her and cross my arms over my chest.

Our contract outlines that public appearances are meet and greets, speaking engagements, motivational speaking, promotional events, community outreach, sporting events, player appearances, and anything like that. And if they think we are a right fit, then we have to go. At least I have to. From what they said, she’ll be getting paid for her attendance, but if a player chooses to opt out, then we can take the fine. As this is my first year, I don’t want to opt out of anything. I have wanted to be a Tarpon for so long, I’m not going to let something like a few outings with Alice mess that up.

“Welcome, folks, to this episode of how did I ever live my life without you over the past four years?”