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She’s my other best friend, the newest sportswear designer for the Strikers after handing over her reporting mic, and girlfriend of the infamous, Bodhi St. James, starting catcher for the Strikers.
The moment the game energy began to wear off, I found an idle moment to slip out, escaping to Kodi’s back porch by the pool with my girls.
“It’s August, Tenley. He’s always invited to these kinds of things. He’s one of us.”
Unfortunately.Every time that charmingly charismatic man and I are in the same vicinity, we fight. Argue like two enemies who will never become lovers. Not to mention the fact that I’m forced to smell him. To smell the intoxicating leather scent he wears like a fucking collar of pride.
And themustache. Heaven help me. Although I applaud him for the confidence to sport it. It’s hot, and I’d bury myself alive before letting him know I think that.
“Well, it would have been better had he taken that…party”—I shuffle my fingers like dancing soldiers—“elsewhere. Nobody wants to see that.”
Not that it matters to me, but did August really think bringing two supermodels to our team bonding night would benefit his image in any way?
The guy knows what people say about him. Hell, his promiscuous outings make front-page news in sports publications weekly. I applaud him for making no apologies in regard to his sex life, but he could at least try to keep his private life private.
I think he just doesn’t care.
“Sounds likeyoudon’t want to see that, babe. No Tyler tonight?” Navy is too observant for my liking. Especially now, bringing up the one-off guy I was seeing for a short period of time.
“God, no,” I groan, tossing my head back and running a hand through my hair. “What a waste of time. But I got a free dinner out of it.” I shrug, managing to salvage some positivity.
“Preach,” Navy chants, fist bumping the air.
Dakota’s ears perk. “Why? He seemed to really like you.”
Maybe.But definitely not as much as he liked himself. Enough to stop traffic on a busy street because he wants to make sure the cars around him see his best angle.
I smirk. “The only thing Tyler liked about me were my tits and skills behind a camera,” I scoff. “And there was no way I was letting that man anywhere near these babies,” I say, tapping my boobs proudly.
I gotta say, being a damn good social media coordinator has its downfalls. Tyler thought he’d use the revelation of my profession as an opportunity to boost his online following as a lifeguard.
Pretty sure you don’t need social media to do that. More so, decent life-saving skills? Let’s face it, the guy barely knew how to start his Tesla.
He drives a Tesla. That should have been my first red flag.
Navy snorts. “Not even some first base action? He was super cute.”
Dakota cuts in, “Cute if you like toddlers with dirty hair.”
I chuckle because I never paid attention to his hair. I brought Tyler to family dinner last week at Navy and Bodhi’s new condo downtown, and didn’t think anything of it.
My priority was not showing up alone. I refused to. I should have known the moment he askedmeto pickhimup that he was a straight-up loser.
Family dinner is a monthly thing we started years ago when I joined the Atlanta Strikers.
We call it family dinner because when you work so closely with the players and staff, you become family.
Hence,family dinner.
But there’s a core group of us who have become closer than others.
It’s nice to map out a designated day each month so we can guarantee some time together off the field.
Settling myself into Kodi’s oversized outdoor chair, I scan the home she and Callaway, Navy’s older brother, have made together, and it brings me a mix of joy and, oddly enough, longing.
Joy because I could never be happier for my friend. After losing her parents a few years ago, Kodi deserves the best of the best, and Callaway is the perfect match for her.
The longing, however, comes in waves.
