Page 47 of Sidelined By Love

Knight raises one eyebrow. “Really? Tell me more.”

Acting is about honesty. About really feeling the emotions and drawing from them. And right now, I’m no longer acting. Maybe telling the truth will make a difference.

“I want this role.” I swallow as Bronco nudges my knee with his nose again. This time with less worry and more cheerleading. “This is a story about underdogs, and I don’t think you’re going to find another actress who understands that better than I do right now.

“But it’s also about football. And even though I grew up around it, I don’t have a lot of hands-on experience. So I asked a friend to help me.”

“And your friend happens to be the starting quarterback who took his team to the playoffs last year.”

With a shrug, I say, “Something like that. He’s teaching me how to throw a spiral.”

“And how’s that going?”

I laugh. “It’s hard. But I’ve never been afraid of hard work.”

Knight pauses for a long moment, then finally gives me a single nod. “Thanks for your time, Zoe. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, his window disappears, and Bronco seems to know he’s free to bark again, letting out a low howl.

“Thanks for holding that in, boy.” I give him a scratch behind his ears, and he whines a bit before plopping down beside my chair again.

Picking up my phone, I take a few deep breaths. Then another for good measure. It’s better to know what the articles say and how many there are.

I’m going to keep telling myself that until I start believing it.

But before I can even get my internet browser open, I see another message from Caro. What I thought was one text from her earlier is actually a string of them demanding to know why I didn’t tell her I was dating Grant.

“Because I’m not,” I tell the only other being in the room. Bronco huffs like he’s not sure he believes me. “I’m not.”

But before I can text my best friend that, another message pops up. This one from Alita, my dad’s executive assistant.

Your dad’s office. Immediately.

I should have known that was coming.

Dad doesn’t even look up from the laptop on his massive wooden desk as I slink into his office. Not even a thank-you for responding to his summons. But I do notice a distinct curl to his upper lip as he picks up a shiny magazine and chucks it in my general direction.

“I thought I made myself clear. Don’t bring your drama into my locker room.”

I stoop to pick up the pages that have turned upside down, my stomach swooping even before I can see the cover.

There’s no doubt what this is, but I glance at it anyway—the grainy picture of Grant and me on the Incline. My arms wrapped around his neck like I’m afraid he’ll drop me. For the record, I was not. Never had been.

“Wow. They didn’t waste any time getting this in print.”

Dad scowls. “It hits newsstands tomorrow. The team publicist got an early copy. Not that it matters. It’s all over the internet.”

But as I look at my face staring up at me from the cover, I see something that I hadn’t noticed before.

I’m smiling.

In the picture, arms and legs wrapped around the hottest QB in the NFL—I’m seriously biased at this point—I am beaming. Nearly glowing. Memories from that moment flow over me. The way Grant chased off those creeps. The pounding of his heart through his back. The steady rumble of his voice as he hiked. The bounce of his shoulders when I made him laugh. The strength of his hold.

The sure knowledge that he had me. I never thought for a moment that he would drop me.

It’s my turn to have his back.

Standing up, I say, “I’m not dating your QB.”

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