Page 105 of What are the Risks
We were filming a series of short clips to be used alongside other footage on Draft day. Coach and I had been played countless game replays and highlights to reminisce about, walking viewers through the moment.
Had it just been Coach and me watching past games, it would’ve felt normal. But throw in a producer, three assistants and a series of cameramen, and it was as sterile an environment as they came.
I’d said as much to Ruby when I texted her during my last break, to which she’d replied:Get used to it, Wheels. This is your future.
A future that looked a hell of a lot brighter if I got to repeat the events from my birthday weekend. That was a moment I’d happily relive and talk about. I wouldn’t complain about a game tape either.
Since I’d partiallyseen her naked in the flesh, Ruby had officially given me the green light to look at the photo – and my god, it was even better than I remembered.
Not to mention now when I eyed her creamy legs, I couldfeelthem hooked over my shoulders, and when I glimpsed the delicate white underwear, I replayed dragging them over her hips – mere seconds before getting comfortable between her thighs.
I was in so fucking deep, and I didn’t care. Other girls? No clue they even existed anymore. Ruby was the only one occupying my thoughts.
“We’re going to have your coach talk about what it was like working with you, Ryker,” the producer said. “If you could stay quiet for this part, that would be great.”
Sounded easy enough. Coach, on the other hand, didn’t seem thrilled by the idea. He hated this more than I did, but it was part of his job. Just like it would be part of mine soon.
Coach was old school. He’d climbed the ranks because he was obsessed with the game, not because he enjoyed the spotlight that came with it.
It was the same for me. I hadn’t put in the work to become a household name. I did it because I loved football. So much so that calling it my profession would never stop feeling too good to be true.
I’d soon be getting paid – and paid well – to do something I genuinely enjoyed. I already had plans for my first contract, including paying off my parents’ mortgage, treating my sister to a family vacation, and replacing my brother’s death trap of a car. Maybe I’d buy Ruby her entire ASOS wish list as well. Or perhaps I’d take us to a secluded island and ban her from wearing clothes the entire time.
Yeah. The second option sounded good.
As the producer counted down, the room fell silent – except for Coach, who cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. They were so goddamn uncomfortable.
“Action.”
“Ryker has been a pleasure to coach, both on and off the field. He’s a natural leader and intelligent player. I’ve learned as muchfrom him as I hope he’s learned from me these past four years. I have no doubt that whichever team is fortunate enough to pick him will make history, because Ryker Richardson is destined for greatness.”
I actually fucking blushed. Sitting silently beside someone while they complimented you was a strange feeling. Especially when you were surrounded by a roomful of strangers and had countless cameras directed on you.
“Perfect,” the producer said, seeming satisfied. “Let’s take five while we reset the cameras.”
Coach hurriedly got to his feet. “I need a coffee. You want anything, kid?”
“I’m good, but thanks.”
He darted out of the room quickly, probably afraid the producer might cancel the break and force him back onto the uncomfortable stool.
Half-worried about that myself, I quietly and promptly slipped behind one of the closed drapes and stepped onto the balcony. The cool, refreshing air was welcome. I’d been sweating up a storm inside.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I texted Ruby.
Ryker: FT?
She called me right back, and as her face filled the screen, I relaxed for the first time all day.
“Hey,” I said, squinting as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. “I thought you were at work.”
“I am. I’m eating breakfast outside.”
“Breakfast? It’s four in the afternoon, Rubz.”
“Is it? I’ve lost track. I’ve been here for over seventeen hours.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound very healthy.”
