Page 24 of The Silent Count
Mae is one of my best friends in the world. I’d kill for the girl if the situation called for it.
“No, I don’t blame you, but did you really have to take it that far?”
“If it helps, I told him I was going to do it beforehand.” October perks up, acting as if what he just said was a completely logical explanation.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I pin him with a wicked stare, hoping he can feel the sting of my wrath through my gaze. “So, with that logic, robbing a bank is okay as long as you tell the clerks you’re going to do it first?”
Silence.
Such a sweet, sweet sound.
Especially when it’s paired with the visual of men twice my size squirming in their seats.
Like any job, mine has its perks. The biggest of all is watching enormous, scary men crawl inside of themselves whenever they’re sitting in my office. I find it funny that they’ll play on Sunday, sling a grown man the size of a small car across the football field. Then come Monday they’ll be in my office practically shitting their pants because somewhere between the field and the press room they became an idiot.
This isn’t the easiest line of work, but bringing these men to their knees, even for just a few minutes, sure does bring a smile to my face. What I find equally amusing, though, is the fact that I still have them all wrapped around my finger despite it all.
“Exactly what I thought.” A pleased smirk plays on my lips, but it only lasts a moment before I’m schooling my expression.
There are rumors within these walls about players who have unlocked my wrath. The two men sitting in my office right now haven’t even scratched the surface compared to some of their colleagues. Giving them a tiny glimmer of my dark side is more fun than it should be, though.
* * *
“Fortune! My office, please,”I call out down the corridor to him, where he’s talking to a few rookies. From the corner of my eye, I catch October shooting a glare at Fortune in warning.
We’re standing two feet outside of my office, not even five minutes after finishing our meeting. Is he trying to get pulled back in for another talking to?
“I saw that,” I snark, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“You ever going to ask him out, or what?”
I fight back a laugh at how ridiculous his question is.
If only that were a possibility.
I’m almost tempted to give October a typical ‘we’rejustfriends’ explanation, but a bullshitter knows another bullshitter when they see one. It's worth noting that October is in a similar situation, hooking up with the girl he’s claimed to have hated since their early school days. “We don’t like each other,” quickly turned to the two of them consummating their relationship in my downstairs bathroom. I’m not exactly sure it’s ‘hate’ if two people are able to do a one-eighty on a relationship that quickly in the first place, but who am I to judge? “Are you ever going to admit to yourself that you’re in love with Mae?” I glance up at him with a popped brow. October tries to remain impassive, but there’s a faint shade of pink rising on his cheeks that gives him away. One thing about him is that he wears his heart on his sleeve, which gives me the tiniest bit of courage to let mine show, too. I let out a resigned sigh while trying to gather my words. “Even if I wanted to go on a date with him—which I don’t.” I shoot him a stern look. “You know I couldn’t.”
A sad reality. Until the season is over, at least.
Fortune and I haven’t defined what’s going on between the two of us, and I’m oddly okay with it. We’re friends—whether he knows it—and coworkers. Both of which feel like safe labels. If anyone were to question what’s happening between the two of us, I wouldn’t lose sleep at night giving out either of those answers.
Come mid-March, once free agency begins, he’ll no longer be a part of the Matrix and we’ll both have the bandwidth to sort out what’s going on here. I spent the day after my party in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out if this thing between us could go anywhere—if he’dwantit to go anywhere. After seeing him in my office yesterday, and holding in the desire to push back my chair and rush to cut the distance between us, I know where I stand on the subject.
The ball is in his court now, but there’s still a nagging pull in my gut that all of this will go south the moment he learns we’re pen pals. Since Friday, I’ve been avoiding his messages one slow response at a time. I can’t bring myself to hold a conversation with him for over five minutes without getting a sour taste in my mouth. Which is why I’m calling him in for an impromptu meeting.
I need to tell him. I have to tell him.
Because the guilt is eating away at me, and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.
“Oh yeah, how could I forget that Daddy’s little princess is forbidden from dating the players.” An amused laugh spills past October’s lips. “The real question, though, is whether Coach is trying to keep you away from the players or the players away from you?”
I nearly bark out a laugh, but decide to let October think he’s made some profound revelation instead. I’ve already knocked him down a few notches today. Anymore and he might run home to Mae in need of consoling.
“Unless you want to find out the hard way by being on the tail end of a rumor that you tried asking me out, I suggest you run along to the showers like a good boy.” I reach over to pinch the apples of his cheeks while a wicked smile transforms over my face.
And like the little wuss he is, he scurries off down the hall like I told him I’m infected with the plague.
