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“You want the full truth? If I had to trade being fuck buddies for you actually talking to me again, I’d take you talking to me again. This is like torture. You’ve spent the last week avoiding speaking more than a sentence or two to me at a time, then you get into bed with me at night. And in between tours. And in that Uber—”
“Chris,” she said, cutting me off. Belle let out a long breath, then fixed me with a pained expression. “I don’t want to get hurt again. Lance was the guy for me for years. When I watched movies I always inserted myself and him into the story. He was my happily ever after, and I built it up to be something it could never be. Then he let some woman he’d only known for a year convince everyone I was some sort of conniving, man stealing wedding bomber. He didn’t say a word to protect me or explain that she was lying. He just let it happen, and it hurt so much more because I was dumb enough to dump all my feelings onto a guy who didn’t like me back. So, I’m sorry, but I guess I’m just not exactly jumping at the chance to go through that again.”
“First of all, I’m not Lance. I’d never wear a turtleneck, and I’d never have left the optometrist with those pervy librarian glasses he wears. But more importantly, I see you. You’re real. You don’t give a shit about who I am or what I’m worth. I’m just another guy to you. Do you know how long it has been since someone looked at me like I’m an idiot the way you do?”
A crooked smile found its way onto her mouth, dimpling her cheek. “I don’t know, the last time you spent time around your brother?”
“I mean a woman. All most of them care about when they see me is what their friends will think. How fun it’d be to post a selfie of us on their social media. They just want clout, and they don’t really give a shit what I do or say.”
“So you like me because I look at you like an idiot when you do stupid things?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
I couldn’t read her expression, but her eyes had shifted back to the sunrise. “I don’t want to promise anything. I’ll… I’ll try, though.”
“That’s a start. Also, I have a surprise planned for you when we get back to New York.”
“Do I even want to know? And if you put a bow on your penis again and say, ‘a package is about to come for you’ again, I’m not going to be happy.”29BelleVal rode with me in an Uber toward the stadium on a chilly Monday evening. Fancy credentialed lanyards had been delivered to my apartment the day Chris and I got back from Europe, along with a vibrator wrapped in a ribbon. He’d left a note in his childish handwriting that read: “Batteries included. Got practice and meetings today, see you seeing me on Monday.” Chris also included a crude drawing of what I think was supposed to be me flashing my breasts at him while he threw a football on a field.
“Why are you smiling?” Val asked. “Some joke I’m not in on?”
“No. I was just thinking about something.” I straightened in my seat, then turned to face her. “Well, are you excited?”
Val checked out her lanyard, which we’d been told would give us access to the locker rooms as well as giving us the ability to walk around down on the field. “Uh, sure. I’m not really a huge fan of football, but I do like the uniforms.”
We arrived at the stadium, which was absolutely packed with cars and waves of human traffic circling the building. Our driver was let in through a special entrance at the back, guided right up to the building, and allowed to park.
A man in a suit with a lanyard of his own greeted us and let us follow him past the crowds, through winding hallways and down a set of stairs. Eventually, we reached a door where we could hear dozens of deep, masculine voices seeping through.
We stepped in, and quickly learned it was a locker room when we saw towering athletes in various states of undress all around us.
“Is this heaven?” Val mused. “So many abs. So many.”
“Are we supposed to be here?” I asked the man leading us around.
“Mr. Rose asked to have you brought to him when you arrived.”
We found Chris sitting in his locker, which was a fancy little leather-padded cubby in the wall. He had his football pants on and shoulder pads but wasn’t completely in uniform yet. He looked freshly showered and impossibly good, with his mop of wild hair and tattoos peeking out from beneath his sleeves and collar.
