“Take a water break!” Coach Bennett yelled just after the sound of the whistle.
Sweat ran like a river over ninety percent of my body, so I didn’t fucking argue.
Practice in the summertime heat reminded me why we played the regular season in the fall, and it made me a little less resentful at playing in the occasional snowstorm.
At a jog, I moved toward the side of the field, the rest of my team a flock behind me. Sean ran up close, slapping me on the back of the helmet before I could get it pulled off, and cut in front of me to grab one of the water bottles support staff had ready on the sidelines to pass out.
Cam Mitchell followed his lead and went to cut ahead of me, but Sean elbowed him back. “Hey, whoa,” he said to Cam. “I earned this. Sacrifices were made for the greater QB good. You go behind him.”
I rolled my eyes, but unfortunately, Sean’s little speech got some of the guys inquisitive. “Oh yeah, Li’l Sean?” Jimmy Thompson, the kicker, asked. “What you’d do to earn the privilege?”
All of it was talk, a bunch of ballbusters flapping their gums about a pecking order that didn’t exist. But once again, Sean played right into the game, outing me to everyone. “Bailey is a fucking legend, and I paid witness, that’s what.”
I bit my lip and tried to blend into the crowd, but several of the guys started shoving me from behind, trapping me in a churning semicircle as Sean continued with his grand tale.
“Two flights, down and back, we flew to Alabama yesterday, all so QB here could mack on the stewardess.”
“Ohh,” Teeny yelled dramatically, stirring the pot.
I shook my head, muttering under my breath, “They’re called flight attendants now.”
“Uh-huh,” Sean hummed. “Little hot chocolate cutie with soulful brown eyes.”
“Sean,” I warned.
He just smirked. “Kitten, as he calls her.”
The whole team crooned, catcalled, and hollered, and I worked hard not to blush.
“Wait,” Cam said, pausing just long enough to smirk. “Is this the fucking kitten everyone on Instagram has been asking all of us about?” He raised his voice to mimic a female fan. “Oh my God, Quinn got a kitten? What’s its name, Cam? Have you met it? Have you had to cat sit?”
“Holy shit!” Teeny yelled. “QB’s been getting a little something something and keeping it to himself!”
“Cut it out!” I ordered, but I allowed my lips to curve into a smile to take some of the harshness out of it. “You’re supposed to be hydrating, not gossiping. Unless you think gabbing about my love life is going to keep you from collapsing on the field?”
Sam Sheffield’s smirk was ornery. “I don’t know, QB. I’m pretty sure a little dirt on you could keep me going for a while.”
I laughed and gave my mouthy center a shove in the shoulder. “How about two hours?” I asked. “That’s how long you have left out here. And I know you’ve been losing water,” I noted. “Every time you bend over in front of me to snap the ball, I see the line of sweat between the cheeks of your ass.”
“Ohh,” Teeny yelled. “QB got jokes today, fellas!”
In truth, what I had today was desperation. Time ticked like molasses as I tried not to think about my date with Catharine tonight. Of course, it wasn’t that I didn’t actually want to think about it so much as, if I let myself, it would be the only thing on my mind.
I wasn’t really looking for that kind of physical pain. Because, trust me, any time spent on the field with the guys mocking me endlessly best be done with a whole fucking boatload of concentration. One misstep, one flicker of mental uncertainty, and I’d be flat on my back, trying to extricate my lungs from the back of my ribcage.
Plus, crutches wouldn’t really match the outfit I had planned.
So I had to change the subject, and I had to do it fast, before I lost myself to thoughts about her and ended up showing up on her doorstep via stretcher.
Just in time, Coach Bennett blew three sharp bleeps on the whistle, and I didn’t have to try to get my team’s asses in gear anymore.
They moved all on their own, turning their bottles of water upside down and hosing their mouths like animals.
Empties littered the ground as players dropped them and took off toward the center of the field again at a jog. Just like during a game, when the whistle blew, time waited for no man.
That’s why the team had people they paid to collect all the bottles, haul them in for cleaning, and come back promptly with an entirely new set.
Precision playing took over soon enough as we set up again, running hard and slamming bodies all in the name of getting a ball from one end of a field to another.
Sean was on fire today, picking balls out of the air like he was predestined by God himself to do so.
I hoped like fuck he’d keep playing like that as we headed into the season. After last year, a season where we’d found ourselves in the play-offs with the potential to go all the way—but come up painfully short—I was hungry for it all this year.
An undefeated season, flawless play-offs, and a win in the ultimate championship—the Super Bowl—at the end of it all.
With all that in mind, I pushed myself harder than I had in weeks, using speed I didn’t know I had and putting everything and then some into the strength of my arm.
Coach Bennett pulled me aside as the rest of the team filed into the tunnel, heading to the locker room to shower up, when we finally finished a couple of hours later.
“Fucking outstanding performance today, Bailey.” He looked me up and down, from the top of my sweat-drenched head to the shake in my tired thighs. “I see you’re spent, so make sure you get good rest tonight, okay?”
I swallowed hard before reciting my lie. “Sure, Coach.” I hoped to God I wouldn’t be spending my date with Cat resting.
He gave me a hard smack on my shoulder pad. “Shower up.”
I nodded and turned up the dark beckoning of the tunnel at a jog. Jell-O legs or not, I had a date to get ready for.
I was trying on my third shirt of the evening when Jilly slammed my front door so hard the house rattled.
An interesting way to enter a house, for sure, and an entire hallway and flight of stairs away from me, but I still knew it was her.
One, she was the only one with a key; two, she had a lot of rage toward me currently; and three, she’d made this exact entrance several times before.
Temporarily satisfied with the shirt on my back since it covered all my flesh, I hustled out of my room, through the hall, and down the stairs.
Jilly was waiting at the bottom, as expected, her toe tapping furiously on the travertine tile.
“Hey, Jilly-willy,” I greeted playfully, watching as the tops of her ears turned a burning hot red.
“Cut the crap, Quinn,” she replied. Her tone was remarkably less friendly. “Nathan’s been chasing me around like a rabid dog since he can’t get ahold of you.”
I shrugged.
Her head looked like it might explode as she shook it violently back and forth, her blond ringlet curls bouncing as she did. Her hazel eyes looked amber and a whole lot pissed. I semi-feared she was going to transform into a werewolf, they were glowing so hard.
“I know you didn’t just shrug,” she said, eerie calm making me take a step back before responding.
“You need to make yourself less available like I do. It solves a lot of problems when it comes to Nathan.”
Publicists, man. Hopped up on gossip columns, and like scavengers, they hunted everywhere for issues, opportunities, things to slide under the rug. They were an entirely different breed, and with as much as mine called me, I often wondered when Nathan found the time to sleep or take a shit.
“You pay me to be available!” she shouted.
I smirked shamelessly. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. So what is it you’re complaining about again?”
“One day, I’m going to murder you,” she threatened and I laughed.
“Probably not a good long-term employment plan, but hey, you do what you gotta do.”
For the first time since arriving, she noticed my appearance. From the button-down shirt to my nicest pair of jeans to the product in my hair, it was obvious I was making an effort. At least, it would be to her. She saw me on a daily basis in my regular gear, and trust me, this wasn’t it.
“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously, drawing a figure eight over my body with a point. “I don’t like this.”
I shook my head and headed for the kitchen, avoiding her eyes as she trailed me. “What’s not to like? I’m wearing clothes. No big deal.”
“Uh, no,” she spewed behind me. “Those aren’t just clothes. Those are going-somewhere clothes, and I’m still dealing with the somewhere you went yesterday.”
I rolled my eyes, but in the interest of full disclosure, she was behind me. She couldn’t actually see the action. I didn’t have a death wish.
“What were you thinking, getting on a fucking plane to Alabama yesterday? Did you think no one would notice? That there wouldn’t be videos of you all over social media? Because there were, trust me. I know because I’ve been fielding calls from your publicist all day about it!”
“Jilly, relax,” I coached, pulling two bottles of water out of the fridge and sliding one across the island to her. She unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp, all while shooting laser beams out of her eyes at me. “I’ll call Nathan.”
“Tonight,” she ordered, but I shook my head.
The lasers became death rays.
“I have a date tonight,” I admitted. “So, no, not tonight. Tomorrow.”
“I knew those were going-somewhere clothes!”
I laughed. “Come on, Jilly. Don’t you want your best friend Quinn to meet a nice lady? Someone you can inspect carefully, fall in love with, claim as your new best friend, and then occasionally loan out to me?”
She shrugged and popped her eyebrows, grumbling, “Well, that doesn’t sound bad.”
I smiled, biting into my bottom lip as I did. “You’re going to love her.”
She rolled her eyes, disbelieving, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly clicked through to Cat’s Instagram profile.
“Here.” I shoved my phone across the island, and she caught it on the other side before it hit the ground—thankfully. “Look at her profile.”
“Oh, great,” she groused as she lifted the phone. “Probably some fucking YouTube star with forty million—” Her eyebrows drew together so sharply the gap between them disappeared. “Does that say she has fifteen followers?”
I grinned hugely, thinking about Cat’s profile picture. Hair pulled back off her face, she grinned into the camera with paint streaks all over it and her shirt. She was a mess, but the light in her eyes was fucking brilliant.
“Yep,” I confirmed, rounding the counter and snagging my phone from Jilly’s hands.
“Hey!” she snapped. “I was still looking at that.”
“Time’s up. I have to finish getting ready and pick her up in Hoboken.”
She sighed, but most of the fight had left her. Her scrutiny remained, however, and I shifted under her stare. “What?” I asked.
“What exactly do you have to do? You look ready to me.”
I looked down at myself self-consciously. “I thought I might wear a different shirt.”
She shook her head immediately. “Wear that one. The lavender goes with your eyes.”
I scoffed playfully. “Are you saying you’ve noticed the color of my eyes?”
“Shut up.”
I laughed and stepped forward, ruffling her hair and pissing her off enough to last the next two months. “Don’t wait up, Jilly. I’ll make sure you meet your new mommy soon enough.”
She flipped me off behind my back as I strode from the kitchen. I could feel it burning heat through the fabric of my shirt, but nothing could break my stride. I tucked my phone into my pocket, grabbed my keys from the entryway table, and headed out the front door to my truck.
I started the engine and then had a thought before I left. I was a couple minutes early thanks to Jilly’s arrival and interrogation—and her dismissal of my plan to try on forty other shirts.
I shifted in my seat, digging for my phone and squeezing it out of my pocket by a sheer miracle. A few quick taps and I was back on Cat’s Instagram, where I clicked to open a direct message.
Phone up in front of my face, I pointed the camera at myself and tapped the button to record.
“Hey, Kitty Cat,” I greeted. “I hope you’re ready because I’m going to see you real soon.”