I manage to make it into the office the next day, still buzzing with Sean.

It’s almost like a sickness. I can feel him inside of me, almost like he’s lodged in my throat.

Maybe sickness isn’t fair. It’s more like an obsession.

I sit down at my desk, boot up my computer, and pretend to get work done. Really, I’m just killing time before I have to head over to the practice facility.

My boss doesn’t bother me, and I don’t bother him. I think he knows he overstepped yesterday, and hopefully he’s going to give me a little break. At least, I think that’s how this is going to go down.

Either that, or he’s going to fire me as soon as he can.

I want to say that I don’t care, that I’m glad I stood up to that sexist asshole, but that’s not true. I’m honestly freaking terrified of losing this job.

For all the problems I’ve had, all the issues I’ve gone through, this is my dream. Hundreds of people would love to take my job. They’d love to write about football for a freaking living. I know it’s a dream, it’s so incredibly lucky, and I am thankful.

That doesn’t mean I’ll roll over for dickheads. But I definitely don’t want to get fired.

I’m nervously jostling my leg. When twelve rolls around, I hurry out to my car and head down to the Chainsaws facility. My boss doesn’t say anything when I pass his office, and I feel relieved when I’m out in the open air.

I get there around the same time everyone else does. It’s always a madhouse here around practice time.

“There’s the kid now,” barks a reporter from CNN, a local named Mikey. “Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

I glare at him. “I’m not a kid.”

Mikey grins. He’s got white hair, the whitest I’ve ever seen, cut close. His eyes are startlingly blue and his face is deeply wrinkled, the face of a man that’s been smoking his whole life.

“Sure you are, kid,” he says, grinning. “What do you think of their chances this weekend, by the way?”

“They’ll win,” I say, crossing my arms. “Or maybe they won’t.”

Mikey laughs. Jeb, the sports radio guy, shakes his head.

“You’re so vague, Brynn,” he grunts at me. “You’re the perfect commentator. You gotta get out from this newspaper business, start bullshitting live.”

“Like you do?” I ask him.

He grins. “Exactly. I’ll hire you part-time if you want.”

“Stay far away,” Mikey warns. “This asshole is about the least professional guy in the game.”

“Believe me, I know,” I say.

Jeb laughs. “You two are just a bunch of pansies, you know that? You cry every time I say something inappropriate.”

“Which is basically constantly,” I say.

The guys laugh again and I wave as I head over to the entrance. I have to sign in and get my pass, which goes smoothly. I glance around at the other people, most of them reporters. I recognize the bulk of the guys standing around, setting up cameras, getting in a last minute cigarette, bitching on the phone, basically acting like the assholes they all are.

Maybe that’s too harsh. I mean, they’re acting like the veteran reporters they all are. Which is the same thing as an asshole.

I guess I’ll be an asshole too, one day. If I’m lucky and my boss doesn’t fire me.

“Okay, people!” Robby, the second in command of the Chainsaws, although he’s technically Coach Wood’s assistant, steps out the front doors and raises his hands. “It’s time to head inside. Be orderly! Take it easy!”

Robby does this every practice. He herds the reporters down to the field. They call it the stampede, which is pretty accurate. They all think we don’t know what they say, but we do. It’s just that, we agree.

As I start to file in with all the others, Robby catches my eye.

“Brynn,” he says. “Come with me.”

I hesitate. I’ve never been singled out by Robby before.

“Uh, excuse me,” I mumble, pushing through the guys. I head over to Robby and stand out of the way of the flow of people. “What can I do for you?”

He frowns at me. “Coach wants a word with you.”

“Coach Wood wants to talk to me?” I blink, surprised. He’s never requested a private meeting with me before.

Heck, as far as I can tell, he’s never requested a private meeting with anyone.

My heart starts beating fast. What if he knows what I was doing last night?

There’s no way Wood knows I was riding his QB’s cock late into the night. There’s no way he knows I was down on my knees, sucking off Sean like I can’t get enough of him, which apparently I can’t.

There’s just no way.

“Come on,” Robby says. “Come with me.”

We go inside through another door and I follow him through the halls. I feel like a kid going to the principal’s office, like I’m in trouble or something. It’s mostly empty though, since practice is just letting out now and most people are out on the field.

Robby takes me through to a back room. He knocks once on the door and we step inside.

Coach Wood is sitting at a basic conference room table with a bunch of papers spread out in front of him. I recognize some of the stuff on the pages: plays drawn up, stats of opposing teams and players, that sort of thing.

He gathers the papers up as I enter and shoves it all into a folder.

“Coach,” I say, and we shake hands.

“Brynn, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

I resist the urge to scream and run away. “Your assistant said you wanted a word with me.”

Wood looks at Robby, nods, and the younger man leaves the room. He turns back to me and smiles.

“How the hell do you know so much about my quarterback’s arm?”

I slowly sink down into a chair, trying to decide how to answer. Coach Wood is an imposing man, a big guy, an ex-player himself. He’s handsome, really handsome, in that older guy kind of way.

Except I’m too nervous to think about anything other than Sean.

I let out a breath. “We’ve been talking,” I say finally.

He smiles. “I’ve gathered.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair. He crosses his arms and watches me carefully. “The thing is, Brynn,” he says slowly, “Sean isn’t supposed to talk to you. He isn’t supposed to tell you anything at all, honestly. And yet he keeps doing it. Why?”

I cock my head and frown. “Ask him that.”

“I tried. He doesn’t tell me.”

I spread my hands out in front of me. “I don’t know what to say then.”

Wood grunts a little. “I figured. The thing is, Brynn, I don’t need you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, that was a little harsh. Let me rephrase. I don’t care about you.”

I blink, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”

“I care about my football team a great deal. I care about Sean. I don’t need you getting in his head with whatever it is you’re doing, do you understand?”

Anger flashes through me. “Are you accusing me of something?”

He laughs softly. “No, not at all. Despite what people say, I don’t think you’re sleeping with him. And if you are, I don’t really care. You’re both adults.”

I clench my jaw. “So why the accusation?”

“It’s not really an accusation rather than a statement of facts. I don’t want Sean to get distracted. I don’t want the information you’ve been writing about to be public. So I need to do something about both of those problems.”

“And I’m the problem?”

“Bingo.” He sighs. “Look, you’re a good writer. You’re probably a nice person. I don’t want to be a dick here.”

“Too late for that,” I grumble.

He laughs softly. “Okay, fair enough. Here’s the thing, though. I can ban you from practices.”

I chew my lip. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would, but I don’t want to. I know your job depends on you being able to get access to my players. You need to do your job, and I need to do mine. So let’s make a deal, okay?”

I sit back and stare at him. Wood smiles at me with this really calm expression. I want to reach across the table and slap him…

Except I know he’s right.

He has a good point. He has to do what’s right for his team. He can’t have me running around writing whatever I want.

Still, I’m pissed. I’m a journalist. I should have freedom of speech…

Except I’ve been making up stories. I mean, they’re partly true, but I’ve been writing whatever I want to say just because I know Sean will let me get away with it.

Oh, crap.

I’m kind of an asshole, too.

“I’m listening,” I say finally.

“Stay away from Sean. At least, during practices, just stay away from him. I can’t control what you do outside of this place. Stop writing about him, stop interviewing him, and I’ll let you keep your press pass.”

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I don’t know,” I say finally.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you really have a choice? I can just ban you and end your job, but I’m giving you a way out.”

“See it from my perspective,” I say. “If I can’t interview Sean, what else do I have? I mean, those articles have been the best of my career.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, laughing again. “Look, take this deal. You’ll come up with something else. You’re smart.”

I look away. For a second, I want to turn him down completely.

And not for the right reasons. I should be outraged as a journalist that I’ve been censored. I should be raging right now that someone is keeping me from writing about whatever I want.

Except that’s not the problem.

I’m worried I might not get to see Sean anymore.

That’s the truth. That’s the insane part.

I should be happy about this. If I’m banned from writing about Sean, I can move on. I don’t have to deal with that asshole anymore. My boss can leave me alone. I can finally go back to writing whatever I want.

That’s just not what I really need.

What I need is Sean. His body against mine. His lips against mine.

I need his cock buried between my legs as I start to sweat, riding him faster, kissing his lips, letting his hands slap my ass nice and rough, making it hurt, making it feel amazing.

I can’t say that. I can barely admit it to myself.

“Okay,” I finally say. “I’ll do it.”

Because I have no other choice.

Wood knows it. I know it.

If I ever want to see Sean again, I can’t get kicked out of his world.

As insane as it is, I can’t let go.

Wood nods. “Okay then. It’s a deal. And if I catch you breaking it…” He trails off.

“You’ll boot me out. I get it.”

“Okay.” He stands and we shake hands. “Pleasure doing business with you. I’m sorry it’s been unpleasant. Really, I hate this sort of thing.”

“I know. Not your fault.”

“Let’s agree to blame Sean, okay?”

I laugh, despite myself. “Okay.”

He grins and I leave the room. Robby’s waiting outside for me, his expression blank.

“Well?” he asks.

I glare at him. “Well, what?”

“Did you take the deal?”

I hesitate. “Yeah, I took it.”

“Smart,” he says, nodding. “Truthfully, I told him just to get rid of you. But Wood is… nicer than me.”

I roll my eyes. “Good thing you’re not in charge.”

He grins at me. “Good thing.”

I follow him back through the halls. My mind’s racing, but the place is more crowded than before, and I just want to get out of there.

Someone calls out my name. I think it’s Felix, but I just ignore him.

I leave the facility and drive back to my apartment, feeling like a fraud, like a liar, drained of all life, a useless failure.