Page 29 of Enemies Off Camera
She’s pulling a sandwich from a tray like she’s been waiting all day to eat it. I squint. Is that a shrimp po’ boy?
Genesis leans toward her, says something, probably trying to coach her into playing it up for the camera.
But Zara? Her eyes roll back like she’s in heaven from the first bite. Then she gives a slow, exaggerated thumbs-up—mouth full—and the entire stadiumloses it.
Roars of laughter and cheers.
And she’s just… chewing. Like nothing happened. Like she’s not being watched by seventy-thousand fans and a national audience.
“She must be hungry,” Barber says, cracking up. “Is that a po’ boy? Damn.”
I chuckle, trying to hide it—but I can feel it. The grin pulling at my face.
Barber glances at me, smirking. “Look at you.”
“What?”
“I never thought I’d see the day you’d look at a woman like that.”
I shake my head, trying to wipe the smile off my face. But he’s not wrong.
This is a game. I’ve got a job to do.
I refocus on the field.
Chauncy Boyd is waiting.
I need to shake him. I need to score.
TWENTY-ONE
A While Later
“How long does this game last?” I ask, shifting in my seat for what feels like the hundredth time. “Like, how long does it take to play one game of football? And why do they even need a halftime? Just play through. Get it over with.”
Genesis turns and looks at me like I’ve just kicked her shin. “Honey, what iswrongwith you?”
“I don’t understand this game,” I admit, loud enough for a few nearby heads to turn. I don’t even care anymore.
“It’s not complicated,” she snaps. “One team tries to get the ball across the field. The other team tries to stop them. That’s it.”
Her tone stings more than it should. I instantly regret speaking. I don’t want to talk to her again—ever, if I can help it. But it’s my job to keep things copacetic, to maintain this illusion of cohesion.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
But she’s not done. “How do you go on a show todatea football player and not knowanythingabout what he does?”
“That was one of the show’s requirements,” I say flatly. “Contestants couldn’t know anything about sports. It was supposed to be about emotional connection.”
“Well, that’s dumb,” she scoffs. “That’s why those relationships never last. Your man needs you tobe in the gamewith him. You should breathe him, sleep him,eathim, honey.”
“That’s true,” Chris’s wife chimes in from the row below, pretending not to have been eavesdropping but clearly listening the whole time.
I resist the urge to argue. Even if Jaxon and I werereallya couple, I would never base my entire life around his career. That’s just not who I am. But I bite my tongue. I’m not here to make enemies or stand on a soapbox. I just need to survive this.
I reach into my purse, grab my sunglasses, and slip them on.
I just need to close my eyes for one second.
