Page 24 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

“I wasn’t insulting your intelligence that time, just your attention span.”

“What’s that? You want to know my wingspan? My, my, Moretti. I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

She smacked his arm, pushing away from her desk and walking to the tall windows. “I can’t stand you. It’s a wonder anybody believes we’re together.”

“About that. I need a picture of you for my locker. You know, for believability’s sake. The sexier, the better. Anything involving lingerie is a plus, but I won’t dock points if you go full nude.” He winked as she whirled around to face him.

She threw the only thing she could find at him: her pen. It bounced off the desk, half a foot away from him.

“I’m going to have to tell the coaches that the analyst who’s supposed to be helping the quarterback can’t even hit a large, stationary target. They generally frown upon things like that.”

“You should be glad I don’t know where you live, ‘cause the moment I find out, you’ll have to sleep with your eyes open.” She pointed at him, eyes narrowing. “Wide open.”

She continued to glare at him until he put his hands up in defeat. “Come back, Moretti. I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor. Tell me what your fancy quarterback software says I need to fix.”

She let out a deep sigh but complied, walking back to her desk. “It doesn’t take my fancy quarterback software to see what’s wrong, Colton.”

He didn’t like that tone. She sounded like she was pitying him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted more of their bickering. He needed it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe it isn’t all a numbers game. Maybe it’s not just the pressure from the opposing team coming down on you. Maybe there’s more to it.”

He was very uncomfortable with where this discussion was heading, but he tried to play it off. “Don’t tell me you think I need a sports psychologist. I’ll really lose favor with the coaches and management if they need to hire another consultant just for me.”

She was quiet, and he hated that most of all. She couldn’t be serious. Yes, he was struggling, and yes, even his wins weren’t his best work, but they were still up three and one for the season. He’d fucked up on Sunday, but he would make it up to the team.

“Colton,” she said gently. “Do you even enjoy the game anymore? When you go out there, do you focus on having fun, or is winning truly all you care about?”

He didn’t even have to think about his answer. Like a robot, he responded, “Winning is all I care about.” Because that’s how it’d always been, and how it needed to be. If he wanted the adoration of the fans and the love of his coaches, teammates, and family, he had to keep putting in the effort and getting the wins.

“I see you, you know. I can see how you’re feeling at any given point. I saw your frustration manifest in those plays on Sunday. You’re not having fun, and that might be a part of the problem. Maybe you need a break?”

He ignored her question, going over each of her previous words carefully, savoring them slowly. She’d been paying attention to him during the game? She knew him well enough that she could tell just by looking at him how he was feeling? What did that mean, exactly? What exactly had she meant when she’d said, “I see you”?

“I don’t think I need a break.” His words were sharper than he’d intended, but they left no room for discussion, just as he wanted. A break was not an option. If he took a break, then somebody else would come to take his place, and then he’d never be able to prove himself. What he needed was to get his shit together so he could keep winning.

“I understand that, but I want you to know that I can’t guarantee everything is going to fix itself just because I’m here, or just because you’re getting more reps in. I won’t overstate my abilities, especially if I don’t believe the problem is entirely outside your head.”

“Go back to telling me you see me. Say more things like that.”

“Colton…”

She paused as he leaned closer to her, like he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d walked into her office and seen her in that stupidly tight blouse that made it hard for him to think. Or, if he was being honest, from the moment she’d walked into the boardroom at the end of August.

“Colton, what are you doing?” She was whispering.

He followed suit. “Exercising my duty as your boyfriend.”

“But there’s nobody around.”

He paused for a moment, watching her for any sign of discomfort. Her eyes were hazy, like that night on the third floor. Her lips were parted slightly, beckoning him.

“Tell me you want me to stop.”

He waited five seconds, then ten. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned a little closer. He brushed his lips against hers gently, reveling in the softness of them. God, what a bad idea. This moment was going to drive him out of his mind, especially since he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t, let this move any further. They were both there to do a job.

He pulled away, just far enough that their lips no longer touched, but close enough that they brushed together when he said certain words. “Look at us. We haven’t even tried to rip each other apart today.”

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