Since that night, it has been nothing but Mae Evans songs in the locker room before practice and strategically placed reporters on my route home. The worst part has been the presumptuous headlines. I’m not sure what gave them the idea that they could paint Mae in a less-than-respectful light with fairly cruel words, but they did. Thank God those idiots missed the moment where Mae found me in the crowd. I’m still not sure what to make of that moment, but she didn’t act on it, so out of respect for her I didn’t press any further after the fact.
Ben’s smile fades. “Sorry, man, I didn’t know it bothered you that much. I’ll get the team to stop the teasing.”
I nod, not really thinking about Ben or the other guys. My thoughts are more on the beautiful singer and which reporter will ask me about her today. Perhaps it’s time to come clean on the crush that is festering.
As we enter the room, Coach Lamback is already making nice. When the Louisiana Gators were sold to a businessman here in California a few years ago Coach survived the move and has been rebuilding the program ever since. The Louisiana Gators had been a decent team, but Louisiana just couldn’t keep two professional football teams afloat alongside a blossoming college team. So the New Orleans Kings got to stay and the Gators were axed. I think it worked out in my favor. My life has been perfect since I joined the roster fresh out of college.
Ben and I take our seats at the head of the room with Coach and wait as the team’s media manager takes over and the music ceases – not Mae Evans, thank God.
Thankfully, the meeting starts tame enough. We ended on a decent note last season – the best finish in the franchise’s history – and we are expected to make a run for the championship this year. The questions mostly circulate around those projections as the conference continues.
When Ben is asked a basic question about being team captain, I find myself zoning out. The camera flashes seem brighter than usual today, though maybe that’s because I’m actually paying attention to them. Before the concert, cameras didn’t bother me, but when I saw Mae huddled behind a few bodyguards as they hustled through the constricting crowd, I couldn’t shake the flashes of light. For a few moments as she passed by, my teammates and I were invisible. I can say I haven’t felt that way since …
“Mr. Lucas, are you listening?” My gaze searches for the voice in the crowd and finally rests on a young woman near the front. “Hi,” she says, annoyed.
“Hello,” I say lamely. The crowd chuckles, and the woman rolls her eyes.
She recovers quickly. “Daydreaming about someone special?” she asks, grinning menacingly.
A red hot flush reaches up my neck.
“You don’t have to answer that, Wyatt,” Robert, our media manager, says.
I wave him away. “It’s okay, I’m an open book.” I watch as a few photographers in the back adjust their lenses, ready for whatever I might say. If they want a show, I can give them one.
“Mr. Lucas, I’m Genelle Cienski from the Nashville Reporter.” I sit up straighter. How on earth did she get in here? “There have been rumors floating around that you were at a Mae Evans concert a few days ago.”
I slouch as if I am uninterested in her attack. “I’m sure you can find the pictures of the show, Ms. Cienski. They’re all over social media.”
“Oh, we’ve all seen the pictures, Mr. Lucas. My question is actually about how your relationship will affect your gameplay in the home opener.” She sits proudly, like she’s caught me in a twisted web of truth and lies.
I shake my head sternly before leaning forward. I can feel Coach and Ben’s warning eyes on me, but I have no thoughts of them when I answer, “I can assure you there is no relationship between Mae and I.” Should I use her first name? I clear my throat. “I have not had the chance to meet Ms. Evans, but I thoroughly enjoyed the show. I’m glad we could find a way to let her borrow our stadium for a few hours.” That sounded rude, but I’m ready to get this lady off my back, and it does cause some laughter amongst the crowd members.
“Well, maybe you should invite her to see you work your magic in Marsch Stadium?” she says, smugly.
“Maybe I will,” I say before leaning back in my seat with my arms crossed. It’s hard to miss the increased flutter of cameras at my statement.
Robert eyes me cautiously before addressing the room. “I think that’s all the personal questions we will be taking today. Let’s stick to football people.”
Ms. Cienski smiles curtly before gathering her things and exiting early out the back. Robert does his best to keep things on the rails but, realizing they might be missing a bigger story, some of the reporters panic.
***
“Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” Ben says sarcastically as we collect our things from the locker room.
“Listen, man, I never should have entertained that question,” I say, rubbing my neck. “I’ve single-handedly made the whole franchise look a fool, and the night before the game.” I groan and run a hand down my face.
“I’m not going to lie to you; you were flustered, buddy.” Ben throws a bag over his shoulder and the two of us make our way out into the hallway, the same hallway Mae had traversed days ago. “Stop. You’re not thinking about her right now, are you?” I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. “What happened to you at that concert, man? She put you under a spell with her southern charm?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. Ben’s eyes go wide.
“You better snap out of it. I will not start this season 0-1. Plus, I’m tired of Hannah asking about it.”
“You got it, boss,” I mock with a salute and a smug smile.
Ben sighs. “She thinks you’re lying to her about your feelings. Your own sister, Wyatt.”
“That’s ridiculous! I’d never do that,” I say, far more flustered than I’d intended to be.
