Page 17 of Hot Route
“Alright,” Tanner replies, although I have a feeling he knows I’m full of shit. Standing, he reaches out and I give him a quick five before we make our way toward the tunnel. When we hit the locker room, I immediately cringe as the thought of an ice bath makes my ballbag shrivel up on instinct.
Deciding I’ve put myself though enough torture already, I hang a right, heading for the hot tubs. I take off my gear, lowering myself into the bubbling water. I feel my stress melt away as my muscles begin to loosen. All my problems will definitely be waiting for me when I’m done here, but maybe some time alone will give me a little clarity on how to unfuck my life.
FIFTEEN
MADS
“Okay, everybody,”Janine says, walking up to the cluster of desks that belong to Tailgate’s interns. “Those social media posts are due tomorrow, so I hope you have everything you need.”
Before I can show her what I’ve got so far, Chance stands and struts in her direction. “I scored some exclusive photos of the Blizzard’s long snapper. I’m going to use them on Instagram with some of his stats from college.” He looks back at me with a smug grin, like this company would even approve such a ridiculous post on their social media. Dawson Mays has been in the league for ten years and is all but irrelevant. I want to scream that nobody cares about him, but I don’t want to sound like a bitch. Nor do I want to stoop to his level of putting other interns down in an attempt to look better.
Janine nods before moving along to Jason, who is working on an article for the Tailgate Media app. Another pointless topic that people will scroll right by. But, again, I’m taking the high road. She scans his screen before turning back to us. “Okay. Great start, everyone.” She turns back to Chance and Jason. “I’d like you to meet some people in our web developmentdepartment. Follow me.” She turns to Ella and me. I will bring you two down there tomorrow. For now, you can keep working on your posts.” She pats my shoulder before walking away, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Douche hot on her heels.
“Wow. That looks amazing,” a meek voice says from over my shoulder. I was so engrossed in creating a TikTok video with footage from my interview with the Beavers’ goalie, Alexei Bertrand, that I didn’t even notice Ella behind me. “What? Sorry,” I smile sheepishly. “Guess I spaced out.”
She laughs, twisting the bottom of her flower-print dress in her fingers. “I was just admiring your video. You seem so calm in your interviews. How do you do that? I get so nervous every time, I have to do breathing exercises to stop from throwing up.”
This poor girl. I'd never say it out loud, but there's no way she’ll hack it in this industry. She's really great at creating content, but she’s so awkward and unnatural when she has to speak to anyone. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea how she got here. Chance and Jason seem to have found their footing and I think we are all kind of neck and neck in the race to become a permanent employee here at Tailgate Media, even though it seems like they’re doing everything they can to make me look like I don’t have what it takes. Thankfully, I think Janine has seen through their attempts to interrupt or speak over me. But I’m not like them. We’re all here to learn and I want to use some of my strengths to help Ella build on her weaknesses.
I motion for her to pull up a chair, which she does. I turn slightly to face her so I can look into her eyes when I talk to her. “Ella, I know from the outside, all of these athletes look like gods. But you have to remember that they’re regular people, justlike us. They put their pants on one leg at a time. You don't have to be afraid to speak to them.”
She sighs, defeat marring her features. “I can’t. I try so hard to put myself on their level, but I get so intimidated. It's easier to say they are real people than it is to actually think of them in some of the same day-to-day circumstances as us.”
I have an overwhelming need to help her get over this fear, so I do something that I told myself I definitely wouldn't. “I want to show you something, but you have to promise me that you will not tell anyone.”
Her eyes go wide before she nods her head rapidly, like I hold all the answers to her problems. “I promise.”
I look around to make sure we're alone before grabbing my phone and typing in my password. I go to the photos app and click the videos album. I scroll for a second, pulling one up and turning the device so she can see. She squints, trying to make sense of what she's looking at, gasping when she realizes who is on the screen.
Blaze stands in the backyard wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He uses his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brows before bending over. A string of obscenities leaves his mouth as he yanks on the pull cord of the lawn mower. It locks, causing the string to break and come off in his hand. “Piece of fucking shit lawnmower!” he yells, throwing the broken piece into the swimming pool. He kicks the machine before flipping it off. The person behind the camera,which is me, but she doesn’t need to know that, starts laughing, drawing Blaze’s attention. “Oh, you think that’s funny, Baby Doll?” he says as he starts running toward the camera, his angered expression now turned mischievous and playful. The phone drops to the ground before a loud shriek fills the air and the screen goes black.
I remember that day vividly. Blaze refused to let me help him mow the lawn, leaving me to sit on the steps while he struggled with the mower. He finally lost his shit when it broke, but only for a moment until he saw me filming him while laughing at his expense. He immediately switched back to his flirty self, chasing me through the yard, tackling me to the ground, and tickling me until I couldn’t breathe.
“See. Even Blaze Beckham struggles with his lawn mower sometimes. They’re just like us.”
She smiles at me, relief covering her face. I'm thankful that she doesn't ask where I got the video from because I think I would have trouble lying to her. She stands from her chair, putting her shoulders back as if I've given her a little more confidence to get through her day. “Thanks for that, Mads.”
“You’re welcome.” I wink at her; truly glad I could help.
She starts to walk away but turns back to me. “Whoever you got that video from is the luckiest girl on the planet. I wish Blaze Beckham looked at me like that.”
Dumbfounded, I swallow thickly before nodding my head as she turns back toward her desk. I release a slow breath, putting my head in my hands because as fun as it’s been living with Blaze, my promise to remain professional is getting harder and harder to keep. But with everything to lose, I have to find a way to stop myself from falling for a man I can never have.
“Blaze! I’m home!” I say from the entryway, kicking off my pumps and placing them in the closet. I know he’s home because, first, I literally create his daily schedule, and second, his truck was in the garage when I walked through. The house is dark and quiet. Eerie, almost.
“Blaze?” I say again, heading toward the kitchen. When I don’t get a reply, panic sets in. I walk back toward the closet, opening the door to see the shoes he had on this morning. His duffel bag is on the bench next to his keys. He's definitely here.
“Blaze?” I yell, more frantically this time. I quickly go from room to room, throwing on the lights to find them empty. I head upstairs, pushing his bedroom door open roughly, hoping to find him in there. But like all the others, this room is dark and vacant. Rushing back down toward the kitchen, I’m almost knocked on my ass when I run into a hard wall of muscle. Before I can fly backwards, a strong set of hands grips onto my forearms.
“What’s wrong?” Blaze says, panic taking over his face at the sight of me. “Mads, are you alright?”
“I couldn’t find you,” I say on an exhale, leaning my head forward onto his bare chest in relief.
He wraps his arms around me, making me melt into him immediately. “I’m right here, baby,” he whispers into my hair, so quietly I can barely make out the words.
Not Baby Doll. Justbaby.
I’m sure that was just a mistake, but I allow myself to believe, just for a moment, that it wasn’t. That I’m his and he’s mine. But before I can get too comfortable in my fantasy, I pull away. He drops his arms at his sides, concern still etching his features.
