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Adrien grinned that maddeningly charming grin.
“Mon Dieu, I can’t get a handle on you,” I said. “One minute you act like you don’t want to be known as the team player, and the next, you’re making all kinds of innuendo and teasing as if you enjoy that reputation. So which is it?”
He laughed. “Which is what?”
“The real you?”
He regarded me for a second, then resumed bouncing the ball from knee to knee.
“Are you always this prickly?” he asked.
“It’s hot out and I’m…irritated.”
“About?”
I don’t know how to feel about you. Or why I feel anything at all.
“I…don’t know what to make of you.”
“I thought you had me figured out,” he said with a twinge of bitterness coloring his words. “The hotshot footballer who’s with a different girl every night. The casual med-school student—and that’s probably just another ploy to pick up girls...”
“Is it?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“I… It doesn’t.”
“Seems like it does.” The ball bounced between us, back and forth, a blur of black and white. “Seems like it matters to you a lot.”
“It matters to me because I’m trying to do my job and the last thing I need is to be hit on by some jock who doesn’t take me seriously. I’ve done quite enough of those interviews already.”
His maddening grin was back. “You think I’m hitting on you?”
“Gah, there you go again. Turning everything around.”
“Okay, okay,” Adrien said, with a laugh. He let the ball drop to the ground. “Let’s walk and you can ask all the questions you desire.”
“Merci.”
“Though you really are quite adorable when you’re mad.”
I socked him in the arm.
He laughed and rubbed his bicep. “And strong.” His smile softened. “You are, Janey, very strong.”
I felt a blush try to creep up my cheeks. We began to stroll the length of the field, side by side.
“I have to be strong. It’s tough being a woman in this field. It’s exhausting, actually, trying to be professional while the person you’re interviewing is trying to get a look up your skirt.”
“And you presume I’m after the same thing?”
“To hear Olivier talk…”
“Olivier is an asshole,” Adrien snapped. “Anyway, aren’t journalists supposed to be objective?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “And they ask the tough questions.” I glanced up at him. “Questions like, how do you really feel about PC advancing to Ligue 2?”
His eyes flickered to me and then to the field before us. “I’m happy, of course. It will mean great things for the players.”
