“Are you sure?” I ask, not doubting her but wanting more reassurance.
“I actually studied athletic training in school and interned with the football team for a few semesters.” She motions toward her husband’s face on the big screen. “That’s actually how Ben and I met.”
Her anecdote is interrupted by a wave of cheers from the crowd. Despite the 15-yard penalty, Chicago has forced a punt.
“Dang!” Hannah yells, smacking the window pane.
Wyatt reappears before halftime, and Hannah tells me not to worry since they didn’t send him to the locker room. She says that he’ll most likely be ready to go again in the second half. She’s confident and, while I want to believe her, I’m still nervous as hell for him to go back in the game.
Sure enough, Wyatt comes back out in the second half, ready to go. It’s clear he’s angry because he plays with a fire that hadn’t been there in the first half. In fact, the whole team comes out to take names. They’d played fine in the first half, but they reallyturn it on early in the third quarter. Getting 10 points quickly, Chicago doesn’t have a chance to get back in the game before it’s too late.
***
Wyatt grabs my hand outside the locker room and doesn’t let go as we flee. Joining his rowdy teammates at a club, we are let into a VIP room where the drinks are flowing and the music is steadily growing.
I thought Nashville socialites got crazy at afterparties. Don’t even get me started on football players. I roll my eyes as a linebacker downs another beer before collapsing into an empty stool at the room’s bar.
Laughing slightly, I realize that I trust this group of people. By now, I know the majority of the players, and I’ve even grown closer to a few of their mothers and significant others. It’s fun to be in this little bubble. No sneaky little cameras; there’s no one here that’s just looking for a collaboration or a photo.
“You okay?” Wyatt asks as he snakes an arm around me. His hand rests on my lower back as he hands me another glass of wine.
“Yes, I’m actually having a good time,” I say from behind my glass.
“You weren’t expecting us rough-and-tumble athletes to be boring now, were you?” he asks as if the question has an obvious answer.
I didn’t get the experience of going to college, or really even high school for that matter, so my experience with athletes was zero until I met Wyatt. “You continuously surprise me,” I say instead. It’s the truth: throughout my life, I’ve trained myself to not be let down by people because it was my normal for so long.All Wyatt has ever done is care about me and that’s surprising to me.
My comment causes him to glance down, but I can see a smile playing on his lips. Rubbing my back up and down methodically, he starts to steal me away from the bar toward a quieter part of the club. Melissa, who has been sipping whiskey next to me, sends me away with wiggling eyebrows. I shake my head with a smile before obliging Wyatt by wrapping my free arm around him.
On the edge of the crowd, the two of us can converse for the first time today. It starts with a gentle caress of my cheek and talks of the game, how wonderful it was to beat Chicago for the first time in the team’s history, how my day was, and on and on. We chat and laugh as if we’re the only two people in the room, and suddenly I can’t imagine feeling any other way at an event again. Wanting to mark this moment, I reach up and kiss him. I’ve interrupted him from talking, but he embraces it.
I can feel my cheeks heat as I pull away. “Sorry,” I utter.
“Please never apologize about doing something like that,” he states with the warmth of whiskey and attraction. I try to pull away from him to catch a moment of cool air, but he catches my palm against his chest. “I wasn’t saying anything important anyway.”
Staring up into his alluring, viridescent eyes, I contemplate kissing him again but realize I want him to make a move. He seems to be thinking the same thing. Challenging him, I bring my glass up to my mouth to find it empty.
Before I can look too much like a prig, Caleb, Melissa’s boyfriend, sneaks by. He’s clearly wasted, but he takes my empty glass and replaces it with what I think is a glass of brandy. I’m already feeling tipsy, but with Wyatt beside me, making me feel like this, there’s no stopping me.
Before I can take another drink, though, Wyatt takes it from my fingers and takes a sip. “That’s pretty tasty,” he says, licking his lips before handing it back to me. I pull the glass to my chest. Ha, I dare him to reach for it there.
He doesn’t reach. He retreats instead, saying, “Think you'll find yourself in California any time soon?” I don’t miss the cheeky smirk he gives me as he waits to hear my answer.
The question carves through the fog of the alcohol, and I’m able to pull out a coherent response. “Actually, I have another awards show to attend in Beverly Hills next week.”
“I have a few days of practice and meetings. I bet I could make it.”
My eyebrows raise as I try to picture Wyatt as my plus one. It’s better to warn him off now. “It’s really just a banquet with a few awards given out. It’s very intimate. I mean, there are still the overbearing cameras, a red carpet, and all that, but there aren’t as many people as usual. It’s more about storytelling in a lot of industries. It truly is an honor to be invited but it’s pretty glam. It might not really be your scene -”
“I’m there,” he says, grabbing my hand.
“Just like that?” I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him that Trenton will be there, that I’m going to play the song we wrote together on the couch, or that he’ll have to wear a suit, or that I’ve never had a date for one of these things.
“Just like that, Mae. I’m excited to see your world.” The way he’s speaking tonight has me all wound up in a particular way. I think some people would call that feeling “being in love.” I’ve known that for a while but tonight, it just feels right. The warmth of our chemistry has finally kicked into overdrive.
Drowning in my feelings, I’m taken by surprise when Wyatt reaches for my chest. He grabs the drink from my hand and takes another sip before returning it to me, daring me to finishit. Staring him down, I tilt it back and down the rest of it. If I’m going to be in love, I might as well be drunk in love.
Chapter 29
