But the other side of me knew this was the best option. Besides the fact that living here would be easier, and I could get more accomplished, the signing bonus was enough to pay my student loans for a couple of months, which would free up my actual pay to help Dad with the rent.
I called Joe back and put it on speaker phone so I could keep my hands free to dig into the arm rests.
“I’ll do it.”
“Good. Send back the DocuSign, and Gavin will cut the check for your bonus today.”
The idea of suddenly coming into that much money left me breathless. To Joe, that sentence was probably something he said every day, but to me . . . it was everything. People who had never needed money could never understand the dual weight of responsibility and freedom that came with getting a break. There had never been a time in my life when I’d received compensation without a sense that I had to prove I’d deserved it. And that sucked.
And that sense was why my sudden fascination with Gavin was a bad. Fucking. Idea.
“One other thing.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah?”
“I want you to give me updates on how he’s doing.”
“What kind of updates?”
There was a slight pause before Joe went on, suddenly choosing his words with care. It was the most thought he’d put into talking to me probably ever, since he largely seemed to see me as an idiot.
“The primary concern for me and Mel is for Gavin to be successful. His image matters. His temperament matters. Scandals matter. Playing ball well earns a high dollar contract, but star power and endorsements do the same. The more popular a player is, the more devoted his fan base will be, and the more investment his team will have in him.”
“Okay . . .”
“So what I need for you to do, Noah, is for you to let me know how Gavin’s state of mind is. He depends on football the way I depend on my Xanax prescription. It’s his way of coping.”
“I’ve already scheduled for his therapist and the anger-management counselor to—”
“I’m not talking about that.” Joe’s voice had a way of cracking through a sentence like a thunderbolt. “I want to know if he is coping by way of doing things that may end up damaging his reputation.”
“Do you mean . . .” I thought about Gavin, his dedication to his body and health, and shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but there are absolutely zero signs of Gavin having unhealthy vices other than the brutal way he works out.”
There was another pause. A longer one.
“I want you to tell me if he’s keeping company with people who may cause him problems later on.”
“Uh . . .”
“There are people who can hurt him. Ways people have tried to hurt his teammates. I don’t want him to fall into the same trap.”
Did he mean gold diggers? People who would sell pictures to the gossip columnists and paps? I had no idea, but the conversation put my back up and sent my hair standing on edge, because . . . no.
“With all due respect, Mr. Carmichael, there is absolutely no way I could ever report to you about Gavin’s personal life. When I signed that confidentiality agreement, there was no caveat for confiding in his manager or his agent. I don’t know if he trusts me fully, but he does enough to have me in his home. And I won’t betray that. Ethically or as one human being to another.”
There was a low scoff on the other end of the line. “You misunderstand my intention.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t think you’re trying to hurt him. I believe you want the best for him. But I also know Gavin would serve both our heads up on a platter if he knew this conversation was happening, and I know he would feel belittled and enraged that you’re asking me to babysit him.”
“Noah, do yourself a favor and don’t start believing you understand him better than me or Mel.”
It was the second time he’d referenced her. Had this come up in their conversation as well?
“I don’t think I understand him,” I said after a beat. “At all. I have no doubts you know him better than I do, Joe.”
“Good. Because I do,” Joe said. “And I want to protect him. You met him five minutes ago—there’s no way you could understand. But on the other side of this, your dedication and loyalty have been noted. I can see why he’s so invested in keeping you. Now return the fucking DocuSign.”
We hung up, but instead of instantly signing off on it, I went to find Gavin.
As usual, he was in the gym.
The gym was ridiculous. It was more stocked with dumbbells and machines than the Planet Fitness I paid every month but rarely went to. And it was large enough for his entire team to fit through the doors and go to work. Well, maybe part of his team. How many guys started in a football game, anyway?
I found Gavin bench-pressing something that probably added up to twice the weight of my entire body. He was wearing nothing but tiny compression shorts again, and I had a hard time not staring at his thick thighs and the bulge between them. He was sweaty and his eyes were closed, earbuds jammed into his ears.
Several times I started to speak and stopped again. He wouldn’t hear me, anyway. So, I waited. And waited. Feasting on the sight of his powerful body and ultimately feeling like the worst kind of pervert for doing so. When a full minute went by, I had to walk away. If he opened his eyes and found me staring down at him, he’d either be startled or creeped out. Rightfully.
I wandered around a gym that was likely the size of my apartment, and stopped in front of a system of straps that were attached to the ceiling. I had no idea how someone worked out with such a device. Maybe it was a sex thing.
I picked up one of the straps and tested the strength, thinking of all kinds of fun stuff two guys could do while one was restrained, and jumped when a big hand fell on my shoulder.
“Wanna use it?”
I dropped the strap and spun around to find Gavin well into my personal space. He was flushed and glorious, reeking of sweat. I was enough of a scent hound for that to turn me on.
“I don’t even know what it is.”
“Not surprised.”
“Why isn’t that surprising?”
“You don’t look like you work out much.”
My jaw dropped. “Wow. Thanks a lot.”
Gavin scoffed. “Don’t get all offended, baby. I’m just saying you’re not a gym rat like me.”
“Dude, no one is a gym rat like professional athletes. It’s your job.” There was a flicker of surprise in Gavin’s face at that. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to start taking him seriously, but it was hard not to when he was so life-or-death about food and fitness. “Although I will say, you walking around mostly naked is starting to give me a complex. I feel pathetic in comparison.”
Gavin’s eyes swept over me. Once. Twice. Then he snapped out an arm too fast for me to evade and squeezed my side. It wasn’t sexual in the least, but his hands were so fucking big.
“You’re too skinny,” he concluded. “Gain twenty pounds.”
“I’m not dedicated enough to gain twenty pounds and have it turn into . . .” I pointed at his sculpted chest. “That.”
“I’ll be your trainer.” Gavin grabbed a towel from a rack by the wall and wiped his face. “Whip you into shape.”