Page 57 of The Fantasy League
Ripley, the director, swore they could, but I wasn’t entirely convinced.
Once the shoot ended for the day, just before lunch, I dropped by the house to take a quick shower and change into a clean pair of Nagem athletic shorts and a matching T-shirt.
Snatching the keys to my rental car from the console table by the front door, I headed outside and revved the engine before starting the drive to the airport.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins the entire ride which made the fact that I was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic completely fucking excruciating.
The way I felt about seeing her felt eerily similar to every game day I’d had my entire career, which was somewhere betweenunbridledexcitementand nauseous as fuck.
Trying to keep my mind off the desire to burst out of this tiny sedan the rental company gave me, I chuckled to myself, remembering Scarlett’s messages from earlier.
Once I found a spot in the parking lot, I pulled out my phone from the cup holder and read them again while I waited for her flight to land.
Scarlett:Abel!!
Scarlett:What the hell is wrong with you!!
Scarlett:Why didn’t you tell me this was a PRIVATE plane?!
Scarlett:I don’t know how to act on a private plane. I’ve never even flown first class before!
Scarlett:I hope you don’t get charged per snack because I totally took two of them.
Abel:Eat as many snacks as you want, Red.
Abel:See you soon.
I was getting her the private plane either way, but every flight out of Miami was sold out, so it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.
Maybe I should’ve given her a heads-up, but it was kind of fucking adorable how nervous she was over it.
Most people assumed that all league players were wealthy when they heard about the millions on our contracts or some of the high-paying brand deals we got. For the most part, they were right. A lot of the guys invested well in the stock market or real estate to build their wealth, knowing that league money wouldn’t last forever.
However, there were always a few guys on every team who’d continuously run themselves broke year after year trying to impress people with flashy jewelry, booze-filled parties, and luxury cars.
I wasn’t one to flaunt my money often. Fuck, aside from my house, I hardly spent any money on myself at all, but the one luxury I allowed myself was flying private whenever I traveled.
Mostly because I hated people and couldn’t be bothered with the normal airport bullshit. Fuck, even when I flew first class and sat in the airline lounges, people still found their way to badger me with questions or ask for autographs for their sister’s best friend’s cousin’s third-grade math teacher.
Needless to say, after flying private one time on a whim a few years back, I was sold, and I wasn’t ever planning on going back.
Scarlett would learn to get used to it.
* * *
A notificationfrom the flight tracker I downloaded said Scarlett’s plane had just landed. Knowing she’d be out any minute, I fumbled my way out of the tiny-ass car where I’d spent the last half an hour waiting.
When I entered through the automatic doors, I felt a cool gust from the air conditioning hit my face and I immediately spotted Scarlett wandering through the crowd down past the final security marker.
Her chestnut-brown hair was tied up in a ponytail at the crown of her head and she wore a faded green T-shirt that was so inherently her it brought a wide smile to my face.
Scarlett’s eyes darted around the baggage claim area and a giant grin broke out across her face when our eyes locked from a hundred yards away. Video calls could never do justice to seeing that smile of hers in person.
Her smile grew wider as she picked up her pace, weaving through the crowd to where I’d been leaning against the wall waiting for her. Matching her eagerness, I picked up my stride to meet her halfway.
Dropping her bag onto the ground, she jumped up and flung her arms around my neck before locking her legs around my waist.
I exhaled a calming breath, locking my hands against her spine and hauling her snugly against my chest. I held her there for what felt like fucking hours, but was likely only a few seconds.
