Page 66 of Enemies Off Camera
I’m not used to this kind of nonsense in real life—people walking up to me, starting petty drama like it’s their full-time job.
Then she leans in closer, glancing over both shoulders.
“Anyway,” she says, lowering her voice, “I thought you and Jaxon weren’t really a thing.”
My eyes widen slightly. I don’t even know how to respond without losing my cool.
“But if it is…” She raises her hands, bracelets and rings clinking. “My bad. I just thought… you did something to him a while back.”
My chin lifts. “I did what?”
“At a party when he was a rookie. Blew him off or something. He told Jake he’d never forgive you for that.”
I open my mouth, stunned. I had never seen Jaxon before I stepped out of that limo. What is this girl even talking about?
And why now? Why bring this up after the perfect moment we just shared?
“Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?” I ask, voice calm but laced with steel.
She blinks, then closes her eyes and exhales, almost repentantly. “Sorry, I just heard myself.” She steps closer. “If I were you, I’d want to know all of it. I’ve seen so many girls get hurt by these guys. They’ve got options—and a lot of them don’t know how to say no.
“I don’t know what changed between Jaxon claiming he couldn’t stand you until now, but… just be careful.” Then, breezily she adds, “And you know what? I think I will have the lobster dog.”
She plucks one from the platter and takes a bite, like she didn’t just drop a verbal bomb.
I’m momentarily paralyzed, sorting through it all.
“You’re right,” I finally say. “I would want to know.”
“Good,” she replies, already walking off.
FORTY-SEVEN
JAXONE WILDE
Iget it. Tonight, we get to loosen up a bit. Tomorrow, we’re hitting the road to Jacksonville, where we’ll start training at our new facility on Saturday. After that, we’re heading to Denver to train in the altitude and get our lungs ready for game day.
Usually, I’m the life of the party on nights like this. No holds barred. We get plastered. Pretty girls wall-to-wall. The cheerleaders should be here soon—those who like to hang out, anyway. Not all of them do.
“So, um… Jax…” Jake hooks his arm around the back of my neck and slides something small into my hand. A folded piece of paper.
“This is from Rachael. Says she misses you.”
Rachael. One of the cheerleaders I kicked it with for a hot minute last season. Casual, nothing serious. We fizzled without a word—no drama, no breakup. At least I thought.
I look at the note but don’t unfold it. Jake’s watching me too closely. So is Rob, standing just behind him like he’s waiting to see how I’ll play this.
I slip the note into my coat pocket.
I’ll throw it away later.
“That’s it?” Jake asks.
“I have a girlfriend,” I say.
Jake tilts his chin and narrows his eyes, one brow cocked like he’s auditioning for doubt. That look pisses me off more than his question.
“I have a girlfriend,” I repeat, firmer this time.
