Page 25 of Set Play

Any hope that I misheard her or that I can explain my way out of this, dies at her next words. “You’re lucky, you know. Normally, we don’t hire anyone romantically involved with a player, but Mateo assured us that the relationship started well after your interview, and that he didn’t even know you applied. We decided the chances of interference were slim. Plus, of all candidates, you were by far the most qualified.”

“Right…” My voice comes out hesitantly, “So, Mateo already signed these?” I riffle through the papers and see a Relationship Disclosure Form, a Consensual Relationship Agreement, and a Conflict-of-Interest Acknowledgment.

Fuck. If I don’t sign these, I will lose this opportunity. And if I lose the opportunity, who knows how long it will be before I can switch specialties…

Logic wars with emotion, but as if on autopilot, I find myself saying, “Well, I’m glad he took the initiative to let you know. I tried telling him to wait until I had the job, but I guess recent events moved up his schedule.” A small, fake laugh escapes my throat, but Brenda doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, well, that’s why we talked to him. We chose to make you an offer, but when the articles started popping up like spring daisies, we were concerned. But, like I said, Mateo set those concerns to rest.”

Ignoring how much it feels like entering a contract with the devil, I quickly sign my name on each form.

I hope this isn’t a huge fucking mistake…

“Lovely. Now, let’s get your employee badge printed and you’re free to go.”

My photo looks better than I expected, but I can’t enjoy it with so much conflict about Mateo’s decision eating away at my sanity.

Should I thank him…or yell at him…maybe both?

Ugh, why do I never know how to react?

The second the elevator doors close, I’m digging in my bag like a raccoon in a trash bin. Where the hell is my phone?

AHA!

My thumbs fly across the screen, no longer hesitating to text the number Cillian gave me. I know messaging Mateo while my emotions are heightened is a recipe for disaster, but I’m too annoyed to listen. Not even the echo of Maman’s voice telling me to think first can stop me.

Today 3:03PM

Me:

You can go fuck yourself sideways with a cactus!

Me:

Are you fucking serious, Big Shot? As if it’s not bad enough that I’m already being harassed by reporters, now this…you know most guys ask the girl BEFORE going public with the “relationship,” right?

Me:

What were you thinking? Oh wait, let me guess…you weren’t.

Me:

When future employers see this, they’ll think I got it because I was fucking you…

Me:

Seriously, nothing good can come from this. If you put even a modicum of thought into it, you wouldn’t have done something so monumentally fucking selfish.

I also text Niamh, desperate for a girls’ night.

Today 3:05PM

Me:

Emergency girls’ night…please <3

Since the lobby was empty when I arrived, I don’t bother looking up from my phone as I hustle out of the confined space and…straight into someone. “Oomph. Woah, where the hell is the fire?” Thankfully, the voice is more teasing than chastising.