The Raptors think I’m the one who’s going to lead them to victory, but I’m realistic. There’s a reason their team was able to get me as their first-round pick. They’ve been underdeveloped and under-funded for years. There’s no depth in their defensive line, so it doesn’t matter that they managed to bring Reese and Dax with me. If we can’t stop the other team from scoring, our chances of winning drastically reduce.
I stare up at the sky for a second too long, letting the sun wash everything out. Then I drop my gaze back to my phone.
They’re branding it theAscent Dualcampaign. Two rookies in two different disciplines, coming together at the same moment in their careers. The creative is clean and nothing that's going to make either of you cringe at a billboard in two years. I think this is a great opportunity for you.
I need an answer today, Zach.
I bet he thinks it’s a great opportunity. He’ll get ten percent of the deal, but this campaign sounds a lot more interesting than the last two he pitched. Namely, a pre-workout supplement and a compression-gear commercial.
This is just an article and a few photos with Whit Marlow who’s stunningly beautiful. The attention wouldn’t be on me. It would be on her.
I quickly type a message back.
Yes. Lock it in. Send me the brief.
Sent.
Done. Hopefully that will stop him from sending me more opportunities for at least a week.
Ding.
I roll my eyes, because of course Dave responded instantly.
Finally!
When are you landing in ATL? I need to arrange meetings with your team.
My thumbs lift away from the screen so there’s no chance of me emailing him back. I have no idea when I’m landing since I haven’t booked a flight yet and I have no plans to. Not until I’ve at least spoken to Honey again.
A shadow falls over me.
“Oh my God. Are you Zach Evans?”
Fuck.
I thought the ball cap and sunglasses would hide my identity.
Closing my eyes under my glasses, I take a breath and compose myself.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up and pulling off my sunglasses to see two women about my age standing next to my lounge chair. “Yes, I am.” I smile, knowing that if I ignore them, it would make things worse. It might also mean Dave finds out exactly where I am, and I really don’t want to see him at the next port.
The taller one breathes in and tries to subtly elbow her friend. This is what I hate. Feeling like I’m some kind of zoo animal to be studied. I can literally throw a ball. It doesn’t deserve this kind of attention. She breathes out dramatically and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not—I promise I’m not usually like this.” She laughs at herself, holding her hand out to me. “I’m Sarah, big Raptors fan.”
I look down at her hand before I accept it and shake.
She nods to the girl next to her. “This is Taylor. We saw you at the bar last night, and Itoldher it was you.” Her eyes drift to our hands. “There aren’t many hot, blond guys who love honey enough to have it inked into their skin like that.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, glancing down at the tattoo as I gently pull my hand away from hers.
She’s right. No one else loves Honey like I do. Even when it’s a detriment to my own future, I put her fucking first.
“Yeah,” I drawl. “I’ve been told I commit a little too hard to things I like.”
“Good,” she says, crossing her arms lightly. “Because we’re gonna need that this season.” Her mouth quirks. “Raptors fans have been waiting for someone who actually gives a damn.”
“Oh, yeah?” I tilt my head slightly, studying her. “You been suffering through our games that long?”
Taylor snorts. “Not a question you want to ask her.” She points her thumb at Sarah. “She watches every single game. It’s a problem.”
