I expect Trey to smile, but his face is unreadable. His tone, however, is very clear. He’s worried. “And without Walker, they’re also in the market for a running back. One like Andre Larkin.”
“It’s not going to happen, Trey,” I promise him evenly. “I don’t care what they keep projecting Larkin at. No one takes a running back in the first round. It’s not worth it. Their injury rate is too high to burn a first round pick on them. Coach Allen would be a fool to pick him over you.”
“He gave up his second round pick?”
“Yes,” I admit reluctantly. It wasn’t part of my original plan, but nothing about the pre-Draft shuffle goes the way you want it to. Not perfectly.
Trey shakes his head tightly. “Coach Allen would have to wait until the third to fill the hole in his roster. He won’t find another running back like Walker in the third round.”
“He’s not looking for one. In his mind a stellar quarterback and a great tight end are worth the loss. I’ve got this under control, okay? Just relax.”
“I’m having trouble with that today.”
“Do you need to go take another swim?”
He grins faintly. “I think that would make it worse.”
“Then you should listen to music. Did you bring your iPod down with you?”
“No, I forgot my headphones, remember?”
“Lucky for you, I do. And even luckier for you, I got you a present last night.” I dig into my large purse dangling at my side. I pull out a pair of Beats headphones and hand them to him.
Trey takes them from me slowly. His face changes as he does, lightening by degrees. Loosening ever so slightly. “You went out and got these for me?”
“After I dried off and changed clothes, yeah,” I joke, immediately wishing I hadn’t. The memory of the kiss hits me like a truck. It’s so much worse than before now that I’m standing in front of him. I shift on my feet, fighting the urge to turn away. “I got you orange, one of the Kodiak’s colors. Is that okay?”
He grins crookedly. “It’s tight. Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”
“They’re on the agency. No paybacks. You need them, I got them for you. It’s my job. But now you need your music. Do you want to give me your key and I’ll run up to your room?”
“There’s not enough time. I’ll be up for the 40 yard test in a few minutes. I’ll be okay without it.”
“Like hell. You’re talking about ripping your splint off and throwing cold in front of every GM in the NFL. You’re definitely not ‘okay’.” I pull out my phone, bringing up my most recent playlist. “We’re going to have to improvise. Put the headphones on.”
“What am I listening to?”
“Something calming.”
I hit PLAY. Alessia Cara’s Here bursts through the headphones.
He casts me a wary look, but I ignore him. I lean back against the wall next to him, nodding my head to the beat I can hear thrumming low and steady through the cans on his ears. It takes him a few seconds but eventually he relaxes against the wall next to me, his head bobbing in time with mine.
When the song ends he glances down at me, a half smile on his lips. “Chick music, huh?”
“It’s this or nothing. Are you complaining?”
He rolls his hand, calling for me to play it again. When I do he closes his eyes. He sways back and forth, his arm bumping against my shoulder every time he comes my way. It’s mesmerizing and enticing. Hypnotic to the point that I catch myself swaying with him, pushing into him each time we move. He’s solid, a mountain of a man beside me, but he rocks me softly. He’s careful and intentional in his contact. Controlled. Calm.
Suddenly his eyes open, finding mine. Catching me watching him. I feel an apprehensive flutter in my stomach as he stares at me for a second too long. As we linger a moment beyond comfortable.
As I remember the ten TV cameras watching every inch of the arena.
I look away, putting a step between us. My arm feels cold without him, my stomach drops, but his eyes are still on me. He’s tracking me the way he follows players on the field. Like a hawk in the sky. Like an animal on the prowl.
He’s himself again; the god on the field full of focus, but he’s something else too. Something I never saw before, no matter how many hours of footage I watched or how deep into his life I thought I delved. I didn’t know because I’d never been in a room with him. I’d never smelled his sweat, felt his skin against mine. He’s more than a Heisman trophy come to life. He’s a man full of faults and flaws. He’s worried eyes and a troubled brow, an anxiously beating heart. He’s impossibly long fingers on large hands, long limbs, hot skin, smooth and tatted, dark and winding around corded muscle wrapped over broad bone.
I’ve never broken him down before, never taken in his parts piece by piece, but when I do it’s intimidating and exciting. So fucking alluring I’m numb with need. Need to touch him, need to hear him, to understand him. To help him. It’s a magnetism I’ve never felt before, not for anyone.
It scares the shit out of me.
April 12th
UCLA Campus
Los Angeles, CA