Page 63 of The Fantasy League
There was something weird going on with Abel and this girl—whoever the hell she was. If she was just some fling from Abel’s past, then why was she still popping up at every corner?
On second thought, I didn’t want to spend my time holed up alone in some random house all day. I had less than forty-eight hours to spend with Abel. Why would I throw away a few of those hours by sitting around and doing nothing?
I backed out of the room and strolled back to my bedroom to get ready and change clothes.
Abel would need lunch, right? And who better to bring it to him than his personal chef?
SEVENTEEN
SCARLETT
I slapped togethertwo turkey club sandwiches and sliced them diagonally with a knife before wrapping them in reusable sandwich wrappers I found in the drawer. Snatching a few bags of chips from the pantry and two bottled drinks from the fridge, I shoved them into a tote bag.
Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I opened up the rideshare app on my phone and plugged in the location of Abel’s shoot that he’d texted me “just in case I decided I wanted to come along.”
Lucky for him, I did.
Fifteen minutes later, I was en route to the practice field, holding the bag with two lunches in my lap. My driver played the same heavy metal song on repeat for the fourth time and I tried not to choke on the overwhelming lemongrass essential oil that exuded from the air vents, but holding my breath wasn’t going to cut it much longer.
ThankGodthe place wasn’t much farther down the road.
When I arrived on set, I stood off to the side and spotted Abel who was standing in place waiting for the scene to begin. His eyes found mine and he shot me a quick wink that made my stomach erupt with butterflies. I gave him a small wave back before someone snapped the clapper board and filming began.
Once they were done, Abel walked over and draped a warm arm over my shoulders. The delicious smell of his sandalwood cologne filled the air around me. Which was much more appealing than that god-awful lemongrass. I’d have to wash my clothes half a dozen times when I got home and I still wasn’t convinced that would be enough for the smell to go away.
“Thought you might want lunch.” I held up the bag that had our food in it and Abel smiled down at me.
“You’re staying to eat with me, yeah?”
“Of course.”
“You want to meet everybody?” His left brow shot up and he intertwined my hand with his and led the way before I could even mutter out a reply.
Abel spent the next twenty minutes walking me around the set and explaining the plan for the commercial. If I was being honest, I had absolutely no idea what he was saying, but that was mostly because I still knew nothing about sports. Everything he said went in one ear and directly out the other.
Maybe one day I’d understand, but that day was most definitely not going to be today.
During our tour, he introduced me as his “girlfriend” to all of the crew members and some of the players from other league teams who were doing the shoot with him.
My eyes lit up every time one of the crew members was kind enough to show me behind the scenes of their job. I met Ricardo, the sound guy who assured me that he had never dropped the boom mic on someone’s head in his entire career. And Lux, the makeup artist with gorgeous teal-blue hair who inquired all about Abel’s skincare routine.
Initially, I wanted to laugh at them for asking his chef such an absurd question, but before I did, it dawned on me that I myself was acting in the role of “longtime girlfriend” still.
I hated lying to them by saying that he only used bar soap, but I couldn’t think of anything else on the fly.
After thanking them and waving goodbye, I tucked myself underneath Abel’s arm. “Uhh… weird question, but what kind of face soap do you use?” I asked uneasily, and he responded by listing off some brand I’d never heard of that sounded both expensive and not at all like bar soap.
Abel took the tote from my shoulder and shuffled it onto his while we looked for a spot in the grass away from everyone else to eat lunch.
Thankfully, I’d packed a small blanket too, in the hopes that we could have a picnic because it seemed everyone else was eating their lunch crowded around a table that was filled with catered lunch from the burger joint across the street.
I should’ve assumed they would’ve had food here, but oh well. It’s the thought that counts, right?
Abel and I sat on the ground and he pulled out our food from the bag and placed it in front of us. I popped open a bag of jalapeño-flavored chips and tilted the bag over to him so he could grab a few.
We sat in silence, eating our lunches for a little while. It wasn’t awkward at all… if anything, it was actually kind of refreshing not having to force conversation with someone.
“Can I ask you something?” my voice piped up shyly after a few more minutes.
