Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“No, but I’m on the same team as the twins.”
His brows go up. “But they’re younger.”
True. “So?”
“You’re the alpha in that relationship. Duke is the alpha in yours, yes?”
“Yeah?” I mean, he’s the oldest—obviously, he’s the dominant one.
“Consider the fact that you would be playing for his team, entering his team as a rookie. You won’t be on even playing ground. That’s all I’m asking you to consider.” He rolls his chair closer to the desk, arms behind his head. “Now, as I was saying—the girl thing.”
“I told you, I’m not dating. It’s a distraction.”
“I of all people already know that.” His pencil spins. “Having someone to support you can also be the most rewarding part of your success. Coming home after a weekend away and having someone waiting for you. Taking a hit and having someone in the stands who’s going to be there for you.” He pauses. “Not having an emergency contact gets pretty lonely.”
“I’m twenty-one—my mother is my emergency contact.”
“But she’s in Texas and you’re in Wisconsin.”
“Brothers. You.”
He nods. “All right, you made your point. You have no interest in being in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fake it for the media.”
Fake it for the media?
“What are you talking about?”
“Just like I said before. It looks good if you find the right young woman.”
“To borrow?”
“No, you’re not borrowing her. You’re asking her for a favor.”
“Like an escort?”
“No, not like an escort. Someone reliable who, if it comes down to it, you can take out after a game when you’re celebrating so that when your picture is in the papers or on social media, you’re not drunk and making out with some random stranger.” Twirl, twirl. “Remember that debacle with Tyler Wykelan? Shitfaced after they won the hockey cup and making out with three different women in one night?”
I do remember that. It was a media circus. Kid just won the national college championship, goes out, gets hammered, makes a few bad choices for company that night, and ends up all over the news. He got a draft offer, but not until it had ended, and not from any teams that were any good.
Nothing good comes from going out after a win.
“Walk a girl home. Study with her in the library. Be seen with her during a Christmas tree lighting.”
“A Christmas tree lighting? Why the fuck would I go to one of those?”
Do I sound angry?
My agent only laughs. “A good woman will get you to do things you never wanted to do.”
“No, thanks.” My own mother can barely get me to celebrate Christmas, let alone go to a lighting ceremony in the town’s center. December isn’t a time to lie around eating and opening presents; it’s a time to work out harder to prepare for bowl season. Same as November. “I don’t want to do things I never wanted to do.”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
I purse my lips. “It runs in the family.”
I’m referring to my brother Duke, who’s a bigger asshole than I am.
“Duke? He does what he has to do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? That I don’t?”
“No one is making you do anything. All I’m doing is making a suggestion that could give you an edge over someone else. If it comes down to choosing between a guy who seems to be family-oriented, who plays for the love of the game, and a single guy everyone assumes is out partying and sleeping around, well…I probably don’t have to tell you who’s going to get drafted.”
“This feels a lot like gaslighting.”
Eli laughs. “Merely an observation. Even if you had a girlfriend and she was pregnant, the press would eat that up despite your being young and still in college, as long as the two of you were a united front.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“What if I paid someone?”
Immediately his head jerks from side to side at the same time his eyes damn near bug out of his skull. “Absolutely not. No. That’s not what I’m talking about. No. One hundred percent illegal, completely against the governing rules.”
“Okay, but if no one knew, would it still be against the rules?”
“Yes,” he hisses, holding his stomach. “Suddenly this conversation is making me ill. I’m going to barf.”
Can he say he’s going to barf? Is that, like, professional?
“Sorry I mentioned it.” Not. I’m enjoying his horror. Most fun I’ve had in a long time, actually.
“The part that’s making me sick is that you haven’t said you’re joking.”
I cock my head to the side and study my nails. “Do you honestly think I would pay a girl to hang out with me?”
Lifting my head, I find him staring at me long and hard through the monitor. “Do I think you’d have to? No, of course not. Do I think you would?” He’s quiet for a few moments. “Yeah, probably, just to piss me off because the whole subject pisses you off.”