Sneaking Around

One thing Jock made clear—if Graham and I plan to keep seeing each other, which we totally do, we have to keep it on the sly.

That’s why, ever the optimist, I say to Graham, “Then it’s settled. We’re about to get really good at sneaking around. And we’re going to make this fun. Fuck the team.”

He laughs, like a deep belly laugh, and that makes me happy.

I lean into his firm, hard chest.

God, I love the smell of him, so woodsy and male. I find comfort also in the warmth of his skin pressed to mine.

I look up, though, when he says, “You’re amazing, Eden. I knew you’d find the silver lining in all of this.”

Touching his lightly stubbled cheek, I say, “What other choice do we have?”

He shrugs. “I guess not too many, huh?”

“That’s right.” I nod. “That’s why we’re going to make the most of this. It won’t be so bad.”

Graham looks at me inquisitively. “How can you say that so confidently?”

With a sly smile, I reply, “Because I know sneaking around is going to be a blast. You’ll see.”

I resolve to make it my mission to ensure that it’s true.

The next day, just as Jock warned, the team asks me to leave the house as soon as possible. They even post a “breakup pic” of me and Graham on his Instagram account.

It’s so silly. In it, we’re walking away from his car, which is parked out in a field somewhere. And we’re clearly going our separate ways.

The caption reads: Every ending is a chance for a new beginning.

They wish.

I roll my eyes.

The pic is completely photoshopped, of course.

I’ll give the Comets credit for one thing—they have a talented graphics team.

I start packing my clothes. Meanwhile, my phone starts blowing up.

My brother sends a text, asking if it’s true that Graham and I are done.

I write back a cryptic: What do you think?

I add an eye roll emoji. He’ll know now what the real deal is.

Jodi, Caleb’s girlfriend, messages the same thing.

Too bad I can’t be as honest with her. We’re becoming friends, but all I can do is type back a lie for now: Yes, it’s true.

I hate this.

My coworkers at the diner write encouraging comments on my team-managed Instagram account.

Yeah, the breakup pic pops up there too. And they all follow it since I’m with Graham.

It’s his loss.

You’re better off without that bum.

You’re too good for Graham Tettersaw.

I appreciate that they’re so supportive, even if it doesn’t matter since the breakup isn’t real. It’s not Graham’s loss, and I’d never be better off without him. Nor am I too good for the man. Still, I appreciate how my coworkers have my back.

I “like” all of their comments.

But they’re not there for long.

The team deletes each and every last one, then scrubs my whole account.

The fast response kind of scares me. I worry the Comets will really end us if they discover we’re sneaking around.

That settles it. We are going to have to be extremely careful.

That’s why, even though Graham offers to help me move my stuff back to my apartment, I insist on doing it alone.

“I don’t have all that much, anyway,” I tell him, which is true.

Hell, more than half of my clothes belong to the team.

We’re out in the driveway, and I’m packing up the Audi.

“At least I get to keep the car,” I say to Graham.

He nods. “Yes, there is that, silver lining girl.”

I just laugh.

There’s some more good news too. I found out just this morning that I’ll still be paid through the end of the season, so long as Graham and I comply with the team’s directive to stay away from each other.

Figures. Those bastards.

Maybe I was crazy to have ever agreed to this. But I did meet Graham, so I don’t think I’d change a thing.

Turning to him, I ask, “Do you think we ever would’ve met on our own?”

His brow creases. “Hmm, I don’t know. I could’ve ended up at the diner. It’s not far from the stadium.”

“If you’d come in, would you have noticed me?”

Lovingly brushing back a strand of hair, he says, “How could I not? You’re everything I could ever ask for, or want, in a woman.”

“Oh, Graham…” I melt into a pile of goo right there. “Why do you have to say such sweet things when I’m leaving?”

Smiling, he replies, “Because they’re true. And don’t worry.” He leans forward and whispers, “We’ll see each other real soon, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Graham and I already made our first official “sneaking around” plan, and it’s for tonight. We’re going to meet up out at my secret spot, the one I shared with him.

“You better not forget,” Graham says, laughing. “I have something special planned.”

Intrigued, I remark, “Ooh, now I’m super curious. How about one little hint?”

“Un-uh, no way. You’re going to have to be patient. But trust me on this, okay?”

Standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his and tell him, “I trust you on everything.”