Page 20 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“What kind of throw pillows?” My brand new game night pillow did look a little lonely all by itself on the enormous couch in the living room.
“You'll see when they arrive. But I'm warning you now, they're aggressively cute.”
Asking her to move in with me had been the best decision I'd made in months. Not just because the house felt less like a museum with her stuff scattered around, but because she madeeverything feel normal. Like we were just two people starting a new adventure instead of me freaking out about every little thing.
“You nervous about your first day?” she asked, studying my face.
“About getting destroyed by guys who've been doing this professionally for years?” I shrugged. “Nah. I mean, that's literally the point of rookie camp, right? Wipe the floor with the newbies until they either quit or figure out how to play at this level. I'm planning to be in the figure it out category, but I expect plenty of floor-wiping between now and then.”
“You do belong here,” she said firmly. “The Bandits drafted you because they saw something special. That doesn't just disappear because you changed time zones.”
Yep. I knew I had the goods to be here, but it was going to be a whole new experience. My whole life I'd been a big fish, regardless of the size of the football shaped pond. But today there was going to be hooks, and fisherman, and nets, and probably some of those crazeballs guys who reach into the water and grabbed fish out of their little fishy caves.
Plus, it was all going to be filmed. Mac Jerry had set this up weeks ago, part of his strategy to build our brand during our rookie season. FlixNChill'sRookie Risingseries had been following incoming League players for three seasons, and the Kingman twins were supposed to be a big draw for this year.
It meant a shit ton of exposure, which would mean other sponsorships and endorsements would be coming down the pipe. It also meant every move, good or bad, would be on film for the world to see.
“I got you something for your first day.” From the other side of the kitchen island, she pulled out a football bedecked birthday style bag with ribbons and tissue paper sticking out the top.
“I think you might have a shopping addiction. No more one-clicking for you.” I pulled the tissue out of the top of the bag and threw it at her head.
“You can take my one-click shopping from my cold dead hands.” She grasped her tablet like I was going to take it from her. “Now open your present, butt face.”
“Is this... did you buy me a LA Bandits lunchbox?” I held the tin vintage lunch box up and twirled it around.
“It'll be good luck.” She smiled. “And a conversation starter you can use to make new friends at school today.”
God, she was so fucking adorable.
An hour later, I was walking into the training facility with Flynn, both of us putting a little extra swagger into our step so everyone else knew we belonged there.
We'd seen the facilities when we came out for a visit with the team before we'd been drafted and again for mini-camp, but neither of those times had it been filled with players who were ready and willing to smash our asses into the grass.
“We're not in Colorado anymore, Dorothy,” Flynn muttered under his breath as we walked into the locker room.
“Linemen, and tight ends, and B-backs, oh my,” I said automatically, which made him snort.
First up was our first official meeting with the FlixNChill documentary crew. They were already set up in one of the meeting rooms when Flynn and I arrived. Professional cameras, boom mics, the works. At the center of it all was a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties with perfectly styled blonde hair and the kind of energy that made everyone around her feel important.
“Gryffen and Flynn Kingman,” she said, standing up to shake our hands with a warm, professional smile. “I'm Sloane Mitchell, producer forRookie Rising. We are so excited to have you both as part of this season.”
She had the kind of enthusiasm that made the project feel genuinely exciting, and I could see why she'd gotten this job. Professional but approachable, with what seemed like real passion for following rookie stories.
“You don't have to worry about us too much today. We'll mostly just be filming. I may pop in to ask you a question or two if we see a great moment.” She grinned. “We'll get you both a schedule for our planned filming sessions and home interviews. Nothing too intrusive. And just give us a heads-up when you have events or nights out planned so we can capture some of that authentic LA lifestyle content. Just try to forget we're there and be yourselves.”
Flynn and I nodded.
“Perfect. Harry here will get you mic'd up and then you're good to join the rest of the rookies.”
The rookie orientation was a blur of paperwork, facility tours, and meetings with coaches who looked at us like they were trying to decide if we were worth their time. Hayes had warned us that the first few weeks would be about proving ourselves all over again but hearing it and living it were two different things.
We didn't get to suit up until that afternoon. Finally something I knew how to do. Which I did not say out loud.
I followed the other offensive linemen onto the field, immediately recognizing the hierarchy. Veterans clustered together, talking in low voices and barely acknowledging the rookies. Second- and third-year players formed their own group, trying to look like they belonged with the vets. And then there were the rookies, all of us trying to figure out where we fit.
“Hey, Kingman,” a voice said beside me. I turned to find a good-looking guy about my height with dark skin that made his hazel eyes really pop. Tyson and I had been at mini-camp together last month, which felt like preschool compared to today.
“Freeman, good to see you, man.” I shook his hand, grateful for the friendly face. Maybe I should show him my lunchbox later. Because I was that dork.
