Page 22 of Dream Chaser
“Count on it,” she calls to my back as I walk away.
Do not look at the angry Brit. Do not look at the angry Brit. Do not look at the angry Brit, I tell myself as I head to the station setup labeled “#1.”
Tessa claps twice, loud enough to snap a few heads in her direction. “All right, folks! TikTok lightning rounds startnow! You’ve got thirty seconds to ask your golden question, get your soundbite, and move it along. Let’s keep it sharp, let’s keep it moving. Our boys hit the road at seven a.m.—setting the timer!” She holds up her phone dramatically and taps the screen. A countdown starts ticking—bright red numbers that look way too aggressive for this much ring light in one room.
I exhale slowly and roll my shoulders like I’m walking into a cage match. Because thirty-second interviews? These things make me sweat more than overtime. They remind me of that godawful charity speed dating night in college—ten girls, ten minutes, one folding chair that creaked whenever the girl sat and instantly caused her to sink into herself. I spent five rounds talking about my dog— one I made up, and another apologizing because someone cried mid-intro. All I walked out with was a coupon for a smoothie and deep psychological trauma. But hey, at least this time I’m getting paid.
Thirty-second interviews. A rotating door of ring lights, camera phones, and microphones. And I’ve got the first slot. Game on.
My first stop is a girl decked out in gym shark everything and has biceps that make our defensive line look soft.
“I’m Shay Carter with @MuscleMavenShay.”
I shake her hand. “Thanks for coming to celebrate with us.”
She doesn’t fuck around; she hops right to it. “What’s your current PR on deadlifts?”
“Five-twenty average. PR, six hundred.”
She holds out her fist, and I tap it. “Respect.”
Station two is a dude who looks like he came from a fantasy draft war room. Probably has spreadsheets tattooed on his back.
“I’m Declan @thestatsguy.” He tosses the question out before I have a chance to say shit. “Who’s the most underrated blocker in the league right now?”
“Easy. Jordan ‘Brickhouse’ Menendez in Tampa. Guy eats D-linemen like Lunchables.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, not looking at me but making a note on his phone.
Next up, a woman in a floaty blouse, big glasses, and a journal. “I’m Dr. Jemma Leigh, TikTok therapist @TherapizeMe.”
“Oh boy.” I chuckle.
She doesn’t even smile; she hits me with, “Do you think football players suppress their emotions as a trauma response?”
“Only when we lose. Otherwise, we just cry in private like emotionally intelligent men.”
That gains me an almost smile.
Next up is a kid, like he must be ten. “I’m Grady Blake @LilGridderBlake.”
“That’s cool,” I say, pointing at his football-shaped mic.
“Thanks. I got it when I hit a million followers.”
“Dang, that’s more than our QB has.”
He grins. “I know.”
“You got a question for me, Grady Blake @LilGridderBlake?”
“What’s your favorite cartoon?”
I answer, “Avatar: The Last Airbender.Don’t judge me.”
“That’s valid.”
The next stop is a woman with a stack of books, and her own little light sign that reads, “The BookTok Queen – Lila Mae @SpinesAndScrimmages.”
