Page 76 of Playing the Field
Hunter
I wishI’d filled the refrigerator with Yoo-hoo. Or stress baked. Or done any of the things Gracie seems to do to keep herself calm. Because one thing is certain—blurting out Ashley’s advice when I get home after the press conference is not a calming activity.
“She wants you to get photographed with other women?” Gracie’s doe eyes look especially round and innocent, and I remind myself that she’s a numbers girl. All the camera shots and bright lights are foreign to her. Not foreign, awful.
She takes an apple out of the fruit bowl and carries it to the couch, shining it on her shirt. I almost make a comment about her eating healthy fruit, but something in my brain tells me it’s not the time.
“As a stunt, mainly. To keep focus away from us. From you.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“What do you mean? We have to do it. Otherwise, my stupidstunt of kissing you before the game and all the media questions will blow out of proportion.”
“I already put that issue to rest. I covered for you, don’t worry. Rolled my eyes and told people at work you think I saved your job and were just pumped before the game.”
“Oh. Well, great. Does Ashley know that?”
She shrugs, but I can see from her turned-down mouth that something’s bothering her. “What’s wrong?”
“I hate myself a little bit for lying.”
“What? Why?”
Gracie puts her hands on her hips. She looks like a superhero or a girl boss or something. All I know is that it’s different. “I didn’t fight back. Before, when I lost my other job, I just took the hit and walked away. It wasn’t fair, and I wish I’d fought harder for my job.”
Something hollows out in my gut. If she’d fought, maybe she’d still have her old job in the Bay Area, which is what she’s been saying she wanted since she got here. She regrets coming here. At least, that’s how it sounds to me.
She doesn’t give me time to sort through the ugly feelings, the reality that she wishes she were someplace else.
“I don’t want to lie down and wait for someone else to decide my career fate. Maybe it’s time for me to do the right thing and talk to my boss. Maybe if I’m honest and clear, it will be okay?” She doesn’t sound convinced. “I don’t think anyone really cares about who I’m dating as much as you think.”
“No, but they care who I’m dating.”
It’s a dumb thing to say, but my ego is bruised by the idea that she doesn’t seem to want my suggestion. That she doesn’t want me.
Gracie reacts like I’ve dropped a torpedo through the ceiling. Her face falls. I’ve never seen such a look of disappointment. No, it’s more than that. She looks gutted, but she has ice in her eyes.
“People care who you’re dating,” she repeats. “Yeah, I’m surebeing with me doesn’t make for social media-worthy shots. Is that it?”
“I just don’t want you to ruin your career over a guy. Isn’t that how you put it before?”
“I was talking about a very different guy.” She bites out the words, and I can see the hole I’m digging is getting bigger. Good. I deserve to fall into it. My dad was right—I’m only good at one thing, letting my brutal side guide the way if I can find the right place to use it. That place is soccer, not love.
“This is why I don’t do relationships. I don’t fucking know how. I say all the wrong things,” I lament.
Gracie bites into her apple and chews slowly. I’m desperate for her to say something. Anything.
“So say the right ones. Tell me what you want. Do you want to be photographed with a bunch of women?”
“No, of course not, but?—”
She cuts me off with a shake of her head and another crunch into the apple. “What do you want, Hunter?”
More than anything, I want to give her the answer she’s looking for. So she’ll know I’m doing this for her, even though I keep saying it wrong.
“Tell me what to say and I’ll say it.” I look her in the eye, needing to convey how serious I am about doing the right thing. I expect her to react the way Ashley always does, grateful that I’m willing to play the game and do what’s expected of me.
That’s not how Gracie is looking at me. She looks disappointed. Disgusted. She shakes her head sadly.
