I’ve followed him around through my viewfinder for weeks now at practices. He won’t smile for me. He hides behind other players and constantly turns his back to me. Asshole. I even took on an intern to help me. Kris has been able to get some good shots, but they’re all so distant. I told him to hang back up in the bleachers because I don’t want to spook Kyle with competing action flashes.

I can’t keep this up for much longer but I don’t want to go to the coach about it, either. I’ll try talking to him tonight and give it one more try. Cocky motherfucker. I don’t understand him. I know his reputation; he’s a fame whore. I thought he’d be all over this idea, but instead, he runs like a kid and hides. The season home opener is tomorrow night. We’ll see how tonight plays out and go from there.

Kris and I unpack the cameras way up in the bleachers while the boys begin their warm ups. I want to test out the installation on the new equipment. The athletic department gave me permission to mount cameras up on the floating scoreboard and a few mini-cameras on the backboard and the basket support plates. I think I have all angles covered. Kris and I will also work the floor with various length lenses to catch it all. Even if Kyle won’t acknowledge my existence, I’ll get him. My job depends on it.

Kris stays up in the higher range bleachers getting long shots while I work my way down to the floor. Kyle hasn’t spotted me yet, so I fly through a series of net shots with him and a few other players. I circle around and take a seat behind the home sideline.

I catch his eye and smile brightly at him, letting him know I’m here. He raises his eyebrow in question. I know he’s wondering why my camera is hanging around my neck instead of covering my face. I shrug my shoulders, and finally, when he thinks I won’t capture it, he beams like he just came around from the dark side of the moon. I covertly point my small remote up to the scoreboard and capture him with that smile plastered on his face. He doesn’t even know it, because that smile tells me he thinks he got away from me. I’m a sneaky bitch when I need to be.

When they gather in the circle at the end of practice, I head on down to the shower room doors and wait for him. Some of the men trickle down the hallway toward me. They catch my eye and smile. Some nod or say hello. Some gaze up and down my body in obvious appreciation, but they all just keep on walking in the door.

Kyle is always the last one to the showers, opting to stay behind to work on perfecting some skill he feels is lacking. He may be an asshole, but he’s a hard-working asshole. I wait for what seems like forever, but he finally comes ambling down the hall. I look up to meet his gaze directly, and catch a flash of hunger in his honey-colored eyes. It’s gone as fast as it came, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it.

“You need something?” he growls at me.

“Why are you always so angry with me? Have I done something to you to piss you off?” I straighten my stance to raise my height to match his, but fail miserably. He’s gotta be close to 7’ tall.

“I told you; we won’t be friends. Why don’t you understand that?”

“I don’t want to be your friend, but I’ve got a job to do and you’re not making it easy for me. It’s to benefit you. That’s what I don’t understand.” He towers above me and I’m boxed in by his massive size. I step around him to walk away, completely disappointed that I can’t scale this wall he’s built up against me.

He grabs my arm and swings me around, pushing me up against the wall. Both of his arms snake around me, holding me tight. He lifts me up, and I gasp and grab onto his hard biceps as my feet leave the floor. He presses my back into the wall; our bodies collide as our breaths mingle. He lowers his mouth to me, nipping at my bottom lip several times before pulling it into his own. The edges of his light stubble tickle the corners of my lips, sending heat straight to my clit and soaking my panties. His large hands roam down to my ass and pull me tight against him. When his hard dick pushes into my pussy through our clothes, I almost come right there. He releases my lips from his teeth.

“You are nothing but a distraction that I don’t need,” he growls, grinding his hips into me. “You see? Do you feel it? We’ve never even touched before and I already want to bury my dick inside you. You don’t need my permission to take your pictures. Just do it, but we don’t need to talk about it.”

He lets go of my ass and the coldness of the concrete wall seeps into my back. I’m still a bit dazed and am still clinging to him, so he unhooks my ankles from around his waist. I hadn’t realized that I drew him closer to me with my legs. Lowering me to the ground, he holds my shoulders until I’m steady on my feet.

“You bitch!” somebody screeches. The sound echoes off the walls and I look over his shoulder. Kelly is standing there and her tear-streaked face tells me she heard and saw the whole display. She whimpers and turns, running down the corridor. I know that sound; it’s what a freshly broken heart sounds like.

We both stand there in silence, not knowing what to say. He doesn’t make a move to go after her or to leave me.

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” I ask.

“Why? She’s not gonna understand,” he says as he runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t even understand it myself.” His curly hair is pushed away from his face and I am mesmerized. He’s so damn beautiful. He’s got thick, arched eyebrows above deep-set golden eyes. They always look so sad. There is a pain hiding deep within his heart that reflects in his eyes. “You’ve got your hooks in me somehow, and you really need to let me go,” he says, as he pulls open the door and walks away.

I stand there stunned. What the fuck does that mean? I’ve never wanted to choke a man before and rub against him at the same time. Fuck it felt good to be wrapped around him. The heat that flared between us left with him, and now I’m chilled to the bone. I hate feeling confused. It’s like we’re playing a game and I don’t know the rules.

Damn his dramatic exit. I need answers, but I won’t walk into the showers and I won’t wait for him either. I walk back to the gym to get my equipment. Kris has everything packed up to leave.

“So, what happened?” he asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” I mumble, still confused.

“What does that mean?” he asks, baffled. I can hear it in his voice. Do I want to explain to him what happened. Hell, why not?

“Well, he reminded me again that we aren’t friends, and that I just needed to do my job without his support. Then he slammed me against the wall and sucked on my lips. Then his girlfriend caught us, and she ran away crying. That’s a pretty good summation. Yup.” I pop the ‘p’ on the end and nod. He’s got this knowing smile plastered on his face.

“What? Why are you smiling like that?” I ask, bewildered. I pick up the camera bags and sling the straps over my shoulder.

“Was this a mutual sucking of the lips, or not?” he teases, “because next time, I want to talk to him if that’s what happens.” I playfully smack at his arm and agree that he can have a shot at him the next time.

“C’mon. Let’s go edit these images so we can get them over to the AD office before the game tomorrow.”

I arrive at Haas Pavilion an hour before game time to check lens length and make sure my remote cameras are working. Kris set up additional wide-lens cameras earlier in the day. The test shots he took should enhance the net images that we get.

The crowd files in and the energy level in the gym skyrockets. The home opener is against a well-matched rival, so the gym noise is deafening. The cheerleaders perform a pre-game dance, and the national anthem is sung. Finally, the game gets underway and all of the other photographers have settled into their chosen spots on the sidelines. I have planted myself under a basket and Kris is stationed in the student section, near center-court.

I scoot out closer to the endline painted on the floor when I see Kyle steal the ball and dribble down to the basket where I’m sitting. Clicking my remote cameras with one hand and taking camera shots with the other, I get some great images of the ball being passed back and forth. An away player goes up for the rebound, but several Bears do the same thing. Kyle is on the outside closest to the ball when another away player slams into him. They both fly through the air and come crashing down, directly on top on me.

“Oooooof!” is the only noise I can make as all of the air is forced out of my lungs.

My camera cuts me as it smashes into my face and white-hot pain shoots through my cheek and eye lid. My skin is burning, and I can’t breathe. I hear my ribs and ankle crack as the pressure that was on me is lifted. Kyle rolls off of me, sheer terror etched on his face. He knows I’m hurt. He wipes the blood from my face with his thumbs and is talking to me, but I can’t hear him. I only hear the blood pounding in my ears.

The back of my head is pounding and the room is spinning. I claw at Kyle’s jersey, panicking because I can’t breathe. A mass of people surround me, creating suffocating heat. I lift my head and a violent wave of nausea makes me gag. I try to turn to vomit, but he won’t let me. He and several others are holding me down, forcing me not to move. I still can’t breathe.

The paramedics arrive and one firmly pushes in on my stomach. “You have a diaphragm spasm. Just relax. It will correct itself,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. I reach up to touch my forehead as a headache bursts through my skull, but Kyle grabs my hand and keeps me from moving it.

“Aran, you need to lie still, so they can take care of you. You’re hurt pretty badly,” he says. He’s looks serious, so it must be bad. Someone presses a cool, wet towel to my face. God, that feels so good. Someone straightens out my bent leg and my breath comes back to let out a blood-curdling scream. The pain is excruciating and I grit my teeth, trying to tamp down another scream. I look up to the ceiling, trying to focus on something other than what’s going on. Flashes of light illuminate the room around me. The other photographers are capturing my worst moment on film.

“Stop the flashes,” I whisper. “Make them stop.” I know he can’t. They’ll get the images and sell them to the highest bidder.

A gurney arrives and I’m lifted onto it. My body jerks as my ankle touches the soft padding, and I scream again. My right ankle is on fire. I turn my head to the side and vomit on my shoulder. I’m so cold now. The only heat I feel is the heat between Kyle’s hand and mine. Everyone is yelling his name and asking questions all at the same time. Fireworks are exploding in my head with each bump that we hit. All I can do is close my eyes as they wheel me out of the pavilion into the cool night. Kyle finally releases my hand at the door. I’ve never felt so alone.