Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
A throat clears off to the side, and my eyes go to Damon who also flew in to be here for this. He discreetly points to the exit, silently asking if I want him to go after Noah, and I nod.
I’m going to be stuck here awhile if their next line of questioning is anything to go by. When they ask the GM how he feels about being the first team with a gay player, I want to stab my ears with a butter knife. I knew it was coming, but if I hear that question, or any variation of it, one more time, I might come close to asking all the reporters who they go home to at night and how it affects their jobs.
Damon sneaks back in during the middle of the GM’s speech about team inclusivity and the zero-tolerance policy that means nothing in a locker room. The subtle shake of Damon’s head lets me know everything I need to. Noah’s probably back on his Gulfstream right now, waiting to head back to New York.
Talon sees and reaches over to clasp my shoulder in support. The press will think it’s a move for team solidarity, but it’s because he knows my heart just walked out the door and isn’t coming back.
After being let out of the longest press conference in history and the media files out, I go straight to Damon with Talon on my heels.
“No idea where he went?” I ask.
Damon shakes his head. “He was gone by the time I went out to find him. You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Of course, I didn’t tell him,” I snap. Damon’s eyes dart around the small space to make sure everyone has left. “Sorry,” I say a little calmer, “but what good would it have done?”
“Well, you’d still be together, for one,” Damon says.
“What’s he talking about?” Talon asks.
I stare between him and Damon and then look at the ground. “Noah’s dad bribed me with the New York contract. If I took it, I had to break up with Noah.”
“But you broke up anyway,” Talon points out.
“Because he didn’t ask me to stay.”
Talon’s mouth turns into an O. “Oh.”
“I have to find him and explain why I didn’t take New York.” I go to leave, when Talon pulls me back.
“We have a team meeting.”
“Fuck!”
“You go to your meeting,” Damon says. “I’ll find Noah.”
“And if he’s already on his way back to New York?”
“Then he’s an idiot,” Damon mutters. “Leave it with me.”
I take out a keycard to Talon’s and my hotel room. “Room twenty-five oh seven. If you find him, give him this, and get him to wait for me to explain before he runs off on me.” I turn to Talon. “Let’s get this shit show over with.”
It’s our first team meeting with the entire ninety-man roster and coaching staff to kick off training camp. I doubt they’ll take roll call, and I guarantee some of the veteran players won’t turn up, but they’ll definitely notice if I’m not there. After all, I half-think this could be a test. Let’s see how the team handles the gay guy on day one.
The bar meetup a few weeks ago has nothing on what I’m about to walk into.
We head across campus to the college stadium. With the Damon holdup after the press conference, Talon and I are the last ones to arrive, and all eyes land on us—the two morons in suits. The rest of the team wears their workout gear while they sweat under the afternoon sun. Guess training started without us.
By some coincidence, or perhaps my phobe radar alerts me, I catch Carter’s scowl first up and have an involuntary stare off. It’s broken by Miller and Jenkins calling us over to them.
“Nice tie,” Jenkins says and shoves Talon playfully.
“Hey, careful with the merchandise. Jackson and I are precious.”
“Precious is one word for it,” Miller mumbles.
Talon gets Miller in a headlock. “What was that? Didn’t hear you.”
Coach Caldwell stands in front of us all. “Cut the shit, Talon. Everyone, take a seat.”
It never escapes me that being a football player is a lot like being a kindergartener. We all sit on the turf, while the coaches stand before us like they own us. Nothing reinforces this more than when Coach starts going over the rules.
My face heats, and I know I’m going red, because it feels like it’s all about me. Conceited, maybe, but when management tells us to come to them if they have any issues with other players, it’s not hard to guess they’re preparing for the worst.
As hard as I try to listen to Coach, my mind keeps drifting to where Noah could’ve gone and if it’s too late to fix this. If he’s gone back to New York, there’s nothing I can do. I’m stuck here for the next month.