Page 11 of Sliding into Love
Stupid childish ways.
If I could go back to younger me, I’d have a thorough conversation with him about how to properly speak to someone you have a crush on. Maybe I’d even encourage him to ask Royce out. Had I pursued them then, I might have stood a chance at more.
Now, I’m stuck in the role of former bully. I don’t see how we could ever be romantic, despite my heart wishing so much that it be possible.
As lunch approaches, my stomach gives a fierce rumble. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but with Royce here to witness, I feel embarrassed. My cheeks heat as I lock up my computer.
“We should get food,” I rush to say.
They nod. “I would think food is a good idea given the protest your body is making. Do you always skip breakfast? Or is that just the sound it always makes when meal time comes?”
“Pretty much always.” I answer them honestly. If they’re going to hear it every day, then there’s no point in lying. They’ll just call me out for it later.
“To which part?”
“Um, both. I do skip breakfast. And yeah, my stomach does like to make a fuss when I don’t feed it right on time. Can’t help it. I’m a big guy.” I chuckle as I pat my stomach. There’s a small layer of fat covering the abs I used to sport growing up. It’s too much work to keep them all the time, and the only reason I still have as much as I do is because I sometimes train with the team when I’m bored or pent up.
Royce scowls, then motions to the door. “Let’s go. I’m assuming you have an idea of places to eat near here.”
“Oh, yeah. There’s a few. Or we can go down to eat with the team. They’ll be on lunch now too before they move into the video room for the rest of the day.”
As we walk to the elevators, they ask, “Video room?”
“Yeah, to watch footage of practice or to see how the other teams' lineup looks this season. Sometimes it’s just motivationalstuff or even a movie to help them relax. I’m not too strict with the coaches about it. I want those guys to have a life outside of the sport too. It can’t be all about winning all the time.”
The elevator closes us in, then moves at a crawl to the basement level where the cafeteria is. Royce’s gaze is on me, their eyes assessing.
“I would have thought the most important thing to the owner was winning,” they say.
I shake my head. “Not to me. Mental health is important. The men having balanced lives between work and home is important. Building a family dynamic within the team is important. The winning comes as a result of the rest being in sync.”
They snort a laugh right as the elevator opens. At my questioning stare, they shrug and step off. “You said ‘in sync’ but my brain heard NSYNC, like the boy band. My sister was obsessed with them for a few years, meaning the entire family was subjected to their discography.”
I smile at the candid details they share about their life. It makes me think for a second that maybe we don’t have to be stuck in the shadow of my past mistakes.
The things I know about them come from very old memories and admittedly, some mild internet stalking. With how famous their family is, it’s a wonder there's so little of Royce online. It adds to the mysterious vibe they’ve got going on.
As we round the entrance to the cafeteria, the noise level picks up substantially. The guys are all definitely in here. It’s never quiet when two or more of these guys are together.
“Kenny!!!!” Gillies cries out as he jumps over a table and rushes to me. I’m pulled into a hug, then he’s bouncing on his toes. “Did you hear that Benson’s baby batter worked its magic again? This is number five. I won the bet.”
I shake my head as I pull out two hundred-dollar bills. “Here, asshole. I’ll give it to you. I didn’t think the missus was going to accept a fifth.”
Royce watches the exchange with raised brows. “Baby batter?”
Gillies seems to notice that I’m not alone. “Oh shit,” he whispers. “Um, yeah. Sorry. This probably isn’t a good first impression. Baby batter is, um, you know… sperm. But it’s funny 'cause we play baseball and a batter is?—”
“I know enough about baseball to understand the pun. Five children though? That’s a lot for a man on a team like this. So much time away.”
“We’re not like most teams. The WAGS here all pitch in to help one another. They do group game watching parties for the kids to wear themselves out while the women relax. And there’s also a playroom set up in one of the boxes for home games. We make sure to help them as much as possible,” I explain.
“Kenny’s right. Hell, we’ve all babysat someone’s kid at some point. I’m single, which means I get more spots in the rotation than almost everyone. The only person with more babysitting time on their roster is this guy.” Gillies backhands my chest.
Royce looks between us as if they’re trying to figure things out. I don’t know what they’re hoping to see. I only know that I pray it’s positive. I could use all the brownie points thrown in my direction.
“You babysit the team’s kids? Is that part of your team owner role?”
I shake my head. Gillies takes off, sensing the change in my demeanor.
