Ophelia: 100% yes
Perfect.
It’s going to be a fine line that I walk, being in the media while having personal connections, but I’ll be able to handle it. I’m honest and ethical. All I have to do is reach out ahead of time, and things should be fine.
It’s not like I’d be the first sideline reporter to have personal relationships with players.
Well, one player.
I quickly record the video, filming only the side of my jaw again, talking about the upcoming wedding reception for Ophelia and Xavier, thereby doubling down on the fact that the original article that blew up was totally false. It’s a win-win. I get an exclusive story, and I get to exonerate Xavier and Ophelia again.
Gunther: This is brilliant. Henry always gives such good press. How did you get this? This bumps you up in the queue.
Gunther’s latest text should make me happy. Instead, I feel a pit form in my stomach. I re-read it. Yup, definitely a pit. Reporting sports news shouldn’t make me feel like this.
Before I have time to figure out why I’m uneasy, my phone dings with a text from Callaghan, asking me to meet him in a specific location. I hustle up to the next floor and down a corridor. I’m glad I changed into sneakers, as I’m getting tons of steps in today.
I’m only slightly out of breath when I reach his location. It doesn’t matter because what I see before me takes my breath away. Callaghan’s changed into sleek black joggers and a fitted t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination.
I mean, I’d seen him naked just this morning, but damn, that man is all sorts of delicious.
Once Callaghan sees me, he does a little spin so I can check out the whole branded ensemble. Through the fitted material, I can see the outlines of the taping I did for his shoulder. I don’t know much about photography or photoshopping, but those lines might show up in the pictures.
“Hey!” I wave him over. “I need a private moment with you.”
Callaghan grins, and it takes everything in my power not to melt into a puddle. “I’ve got to do a shoot. I’ll take care of you later.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I grin back. “It’s not that, and I know you will.” I glance around the room, looking for somewhere private. “Where did you get changed?”
Cally jerks his head toward a trifold partition set up in a corner. It looks like a medium breeze will blow it over, and not at all private.
It’ll have to do.
I take his hand and pull him behind the screen. Cally’s hands go to my waist, pulling my pelvis flush with his. I try to ignore the surge of heat that zips through me, landing squarely between my legs. “You can’t get me all hot and bothered like this. I have to do a photo shoot in, like, five minutes,” he whispers in my ear.
I thread my hands up his back, underneath his shirt. I trace his firm muscles, leaning in as close as I can to get the best grip. “I’m sorry, but this has to be done.”
He asks, “What are you apologizing for?” as I find the base of the tape and pull up. I press my mouth to his, stifling his yelp as the tape breaks free from his scapula.
“Sorry,” I say. “You could see the outlines of it through the shirt, and I didn’t want it to show in the pictures.” I change my grip and remove the rest of it, pretending I didn’t cause him pain. I add on one more “I’m sorry” for good measure as I stuff the tape in my pocket.
Cally steps back, rubbing his shoulder. “No, good call. I’d be exposed if they want me to take off my shirt.”
I shrug. “I mean, it’s not unheard of for a professional athlete to be taped or have cupping marks. I think being a little hurt is literally in the job description.”
He shakes his head. “The US Men’s National Team doesn’t want someone who’s a little hurt. It could ruin everything for me.”
“Isn’t someone going to notice you can’t lift your right arm well?”
He shrugs. “It’s feeling better already. I’ll be fine.”
From the other side of the room, someone calls, “Callaghan Entay! You’re up.”
I start to leave the secluded little area, but Callaghan grabs my hand. He’s always doing this like he thinks I belong to him. “Stay and watch. Feel free to get some pictures or whatever. You can use me on your ClikClak.”
I smile, appreciating his offer. I mean, I’m one hundred percent going to take pictures, especially if his shirt is coming off. “I don’t want to use you.”
Cally pulls me back toward him one last time, whispering in my ear. “The right thirst trap could blow up your account. And trust me, you’re the only one who’s going to have this sort of footage.”
