“Really? Over text?” Archer’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the reason the ass-kicking was invented. For those types of guys.”
I shrugged as the plane started to taxi down the runway, the interior lights dimming. “We haven’t even been together a month. Truthfully, it lasted longer than I thought it would. This kind of lifestyle”—I twirled my finger around the airplane—“makes it difficult to sustain a long-term relationship.”
“That’s why I’m not a fan of them.”
“Long-term relationships?”
“Any kind of relationship,” he said.
I nodded my understanding. The players had it worse than the team staff. At least in terms of having to question if a person was into them for who they were or because of their job, and the fame and money that came with it.
“I’m either practicing for a game, playing a game, recovering from a game, or fueling up and resting for a game. There’s not time for much else,” he said.
Leaning into my armrest, I realized how strange it was to be having such an easy conversation with Luke Archer. It felt natural, not forced. Most of the players would take a moment to chat with me about something game-related, but I was still the new kid on the block. I felt like I had to pass some test before they’d accept me as a member of the team.
Archer didn’t seem to be of the same mind though.
“Yeah, I know. It’s like you need to find someone who can just travel with you wherever you go, right?” I said, thinking how much easier it would to be in a relationship with someone I got to see on a daily basis without two computer screens.
“Exactly. Someone who understands the lifestyle. Appreciates the sacrifices you have to make.”
My head fell back into the headrest from the inertia of takeoff, but I could still feel Archer’s eyes on me. “Someone who understands that the job comes first. Someone who doesn’t get insecure or jealous or bent out of shape that they get the few precious minutes in between the job.”
When my head turned toward him again, I found Luke Archer staring at me with a kind of intensity I hadn’t seen aimed my way in a long time. My breath caught, and even though the strength of his stare threatened to overwhelm me, I held his gaze.
“Someone who understands the game. The commitment. The time. The sacrifice. Someone who’s as committed to it as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitched, carving a dimple into his cheek. “It’s not like you could ever expect to find a person like that sitting in the row across the aisle from you, right?”
“THEY’RE READY FOR you, Archer!” Coach Beckett hollered into the bowels of the locker room after shoving through the doors.
A chorus of whistles and catcalls circled the space, echoing off the concrete walls and metal lockers.
“I don’t know what Sports Anonymous wants with your ugly mug when they could have mine plastered across the cover instead,” Reynolds piped up above the din as Archer rose from the bench in front of his locker.
I was busy wrapping Hernandez’s ankle on the other side of the locker room, content to leave as much space between Archer and me as a confined space allowed. We hadn’t said much to each other after takeoff last night, but I could feel his gaze on me when he thought I wasn’t looking. By the time we’d touched down, the energy in the air between us was so strong, I felt like I could stick my finger out and be electrocuted by it.
“It’s because they actually want to sell magazines.” Archer flashed a wide smile at Reynolds as he headed for the doors. “And they’re not shooting for Halloween yet. I’ll let them know you’re interested when they’re ready to shoot the ghouls-and-goblins edition though.”
Reynolds snagged a towel from his locker and lobbed it across the room at Archer.
“The pretty boy of baseball. How bad does having to wear that title suck?” Reynolds shouted, which was followed by a few more whistles.
By now, I was used to the locker room banter and usually blocked it out. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t today, but I guessed it had something to do with the subject the banter was focused on.
“Not too damn bad considering the pretty boy of baseball also happens to have the best batting average in the league.” Archer wagged his brows a few times before blowing an air kiss Reynolds’s way and shoving the door open.
“Archer!” Coach yelled.
Archer paused in the doorway. “Yeah, Coach?”
“Take a trainer with you.”
Shepherd snagged his duffel and jogged toward the door.