Page 30 of Everything In Between
“It was great, actually. I got to watch one of the best quarterbacks in the league do his thing.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide the pride that appears on his face. He’s so dang handsome I can’t stand it. “Andseeing you out there on the field in that uniform had me feeling some type of way.”
Hayes catches on quickly, one brow arching a bit and that smirk of his deepening. “Is that so?”
I bite my lip again and he tracks the movement, eyes darkening. “Oh yeah. Those uniform pants should be illegal.”
He laughs and stretches again. “Some type of way, huh?” I nod slowly. “I gotta admit, seeing you in that low cut tank top hasmefeeling some type of way now too.”
My eyes fall to the small inset on the FaceTime call reflecting me, where I observe my cleavage on full display for him. Heat blooms through me and my chest flushes bright red. I’m thankful the room has subtle lighting otherwise, I’m sure he would catch onto my embarrassment.
“I guess we’re in the same boat then,” I tease. “Really though, watching you do your thing out there was incredible. You were meant to command the field like that.”
His arm flexes again as he shifts, and my attention goes straight to the bulging muscle, imagining what it would be like to snuggle up against him. His lips pull into a smirk as he tracks my distraction. “Thanks, baby.”
My heart skips a beat at the endearment, and I squeeze my thighs together.
“How does one even get pulled up to a professional level football team?” I ask him, meeting his eyes again.
“I was drafted right out of college,” he explains. “I’ve played football my whole life, first with my dad in the backyard, then flag. Then, when I was old enough—and my mom gave the green light—I upgraded to tackle football and made the varsity team in high school. That’s when I started making a name for myself, which helped me get to the collegiate level. From there it was simply garnering the interest of the right NFL scouts.”
“Have you played on any other teams?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Majestics pulled me right out of the draft and started me that first season. They needed a new quarterback and drafted me in the first round, starting me out on the field right away, even though I was a rookie. I’m grateful someone in higher management saw the potential in me.”
“I think they were right,” I muse and he grins. “You seem to be in your element out there. It’s like you’re making your own kind of music out on the field.”
“That’s a good way to put it.” He nods. “It has been a whirlwind of a career. I’m grateful for the opportunity to do what I love and hone my leadership skills. I have a lot of goals I want to achieve with the Majestics, so I gotta keep my eyes on the prize.” Proving his point, his eyes swirl with something and I wonder if he’s thinking about what those future games might bring, what plays will make it to the playbook.
“Like what?” I prod him, listening raptly. He’s obviously passionate when it comes to football and his team. It’s hard not to feed off that energy.
“Another Super Bowl ring,” he says with a wide smile. His eyes grow distant, lost in thought, as if he can picture himself holding that trophy in his hands.
“You won... last year?” I ask, even though I know. I read that information online during my searches.
“We sure did. The first win for the franchise in twenty years,” he says proudly, as he should. “But it wasn’t all me. It was a big team win for us. I couldn’t have done it without any of them just as much as they couldn’t have done it without me.”
I bite my lower lip. “I like the idea of having a team dynamic like that.”
He tilts his head to the side, appearing a little confused. “Well, you have one too, don’t you think? A team is anyone you have in your corner, supporting you through thick and thin. It might look a little different than mine, but you still have one.”
I think about Bethany and Kelsey and Roman, how they do exactly that, even when the going gets tough with meeting the schedule or demands of the label. “You’re right. I do.”
“What about you? How’d you get into singing?” he asks me, pivoting the conversation.
I hum a little, recalling my own origin story. “I’ve always loved signing. My mom tells me I used to go around the house creating songs as they came to me when I was little. As I gotolder, it became a dream of mine to make it big, create songs and albums that people could love. But it’s damn near impossible to get started in the industry with no connections.”
“I bet. I can imagine it would be a crazy grueling process to try and get your name out there,” he says. He has no idea. The number of singers who never got their chance to make it to the big leagues is innumerable.
“It is. When I was eighteen, I started performing in dive bars in Northern California where I grew up. I had a fake ID and everything.” I laugh and Hayes grins back at me through the phone at the sound. “I just had this dream that someone,anyone,would take notice of me and give me a chance to prove that I was worth the time and effort.” My voice takes on a tender edge to it. In the back of my mind, I can see a young version of myself, standing at the threshold and staring out into the future with nothing but a heart full of hope and a guitar in my hand.
“Was that hard?” he asks, eager to know every little detail of this time in my life.
“It was a lot of hard work,” I agree, sinking further into my pillows. “But it was work I enjoyed doing, and that made all the difference. Eventually, the endless shows with little to no interest from anyone higher than bar management started to wear on me. I was so close to giving up hope.”
“I bet,” he says, shaking his head.
“After three years of nothing, I was ready to throw in the towel. I told myself to just do one more. One last show, and then I’d call it quits. After that I’d know for sure that this dream was never meant to be.” Three years is a long time to stick with the grind with no return on investment. Something I’m reminded of now with three years left on my contract. I’m struck with the coincidental parallel.
“But?”
