Page 35 of Broken Play
Anna's being discharged today, and in true Anna fashion, she's determined to make it to the Armadillos' preseason game. Her doctor gave her the green light as long as she avoids the crowds. Her ribs will take a while to heal, and he doesn't want her to be accidentally shoved. I promised him she'd be well out of the fray in a private owner's box, nowhere near the rowdy football fans.
Francisco pushes Anna in the wheelchair through the private entrance of New York's football stadium. "Do I get tomeet Greyson before or after the game?" Anna asks, glancing at me. "He's so hot. Is he still as hot as he was...?" Her voice trails off when I give her the old side-eye.
Francisco just shakes his head with a smile. Of course, he has heard about that night in Denver several times. Bodhi's posture completely changes; his hands ball into fists at his sides, and his jaw clamps down. He doesn't say anything, but I see his anger simmering.
"Let me text him and see if he wants us to come to the field. He wants to meet you, too."
Me: Anna wants to meet you. Is before or after the game better?
It takes a few minutes for him to respond since he's probably changing. I saw the team bus pull up just in front of us, but we had to secure a wheelchair, so we're a half hour behind. I'm unsure of the exact pregame schedule.
Greyson: Come to the field. I'll be there in fifteen.
Me: Thanks.
A security guard for the owners helps us find our way to the field-level entrance for people with passes.
"I can't believe I'm going to meet a professional quarterback. He's number ten, right?"
Anna asks as she points to number ten stretching. She crooks her finger, gesturing for me to come closer, and when I do, she whispers, "He's got a great ass. You should touch it."
I can't help but laugh, but then Greyson spreads his massive thighs, bends over, and touches the ground with his palms. Since he's not wearing pads—only shorts and acompression tank—they show off his masculine physique. I feel a flutter in my stomach. "Follow me."
As we stride out onto the field, the players chant, "Boss." Greyson peeks over his shoulder, and a half-cocked smile paints his face. Matt, the quarterback coach, throws him a ball. He catches it with his large hands, then turns to me and sees the entourage. He meets us halfway, where Anna is rolled onto the right hash mark.
Greyson swaggers over, full of confidence, shining with positivity. "Hey, you must be the one and only Anna I've heard so much about." She holds her hand out to shake his. "Any friend of Sutton's is a friend of mine. I can do better than that." He leans down, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"
I poke her gently on the arm as a pink blush tints her cheeks. "I'm much better. I just need to find a place to stay."
"Come to Austin. I have plenty of room. Six bedrooms and just little old me. I have a ramp entry in the basement and a bedroom downstairs. You're welcome anytime," he says with the sincerity of a Baptist preacher welcoming you to church. He looks at Bodhi. "Bodhi."
Bodhi is all he says, and Bodhi returns the one-word greeting. There's an internal war raging between these two. I should have told Greyson I was completely over Bodhi so this wouldn't be awkward, but I'm not a psychic. I had no clue that Anna would get into a car accident and that Bodhi and Greyson would meet again.
"And who is this?" Greyson extends his hand to Francisco.
"Francisco. It's a pleasure to meet you," Francisco says, shaking his hand.
"I know Europeans prefer soccer, but do you like American football?" Greyson asks Francisco.
"I love it... it's nasty. Are the Armadillos playing in London this year?"
"Not this year," I chime in.
Greyson puckers his lips and lets out a sharp whistle. One of the team managers runs like a gazelle to him, her brown ponytail swaying with grace. She's obviously starstruck, vibrating with excitement, but not at Greyson. Her focus is all on Bodhi.
"Ms. Anders, oh my God, I can't believe I'm talking to professional tennis players. I grew up playing." She gives Bodhi cartoon-like heart eyes and continues. "I had your poster above my bed for years," she gushes.
Swallowing a laugh, I sneak a glance at Greyson, who shoots me a quick, exasperated eye roll. Bodhi, on the other hand, beams while soaking up the attention from a pretty girl. "Is that right? Why above your bed?" he asks.
I feel bad for the manager because she turns ten shades of red, and I'm surprised she doesn't melt at his feet like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. The silence and the looks between us become awkward, so Greyson interrupts the swooning, refocusing her attention on the business at hand. "Willa, do you have a Sharpie?"
"Oh, umm, yeah." She snaps out of theBodhi Dazeshe's in—Anna's name for the hypnotic state girls get trapped in when a girl meets Bodhi. She fumbles in her fanny pack and finally hands Greyson a marker.
Greyson signs the football that has been casually tucked under his bulging bicep, scratching his name with the number 10 beside it. He passes it to Francisco, cool as a cucumber.
"This is amazing, man. Thanks. I may have to move to America." Francisco's voice is pure excitement.
"Well, I've got to get back to it. Need to win this to prove Sutton is the best general manager in all of football. She knows how to make moves."
