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I don’t know when I’ll see you next since the Children’s Hospital event is a few weeks away, but just know you’ll be on my mind until then, like you have been since the night we met.
I told you this wasn’t over, and I’m standing by that.
I tried my best this week to show you that I could be professional when I need to, but now I’m trying to tell you what I’m really feeling.
I’m not the type of guy who takes no for an answer, especially when it’s something that I want.
And I want you.
I want your time and friendship. I just want to get to know you better—because the parts of you I know so far, I really like. But I know there’s more to you, too.
So I’ll ask again... why can’t you give this a chance?
Until next time,
Maddox
Sighing, I toss the note on my desk and then unwrap the candy, twisting the plastic free and plopping it into my mouth. It tastes just like the sour-apple vodka we were drinking that night, and now I’m even more confused.
I’ve met stubborn men in my life. Hell, my own father is just about as stubborn as they come. But Maddox’s stubbornness isn’t menacing or a turnoff. On the contrary, it ignites a flurry of excitement in my gut. He may not have listened, but deep down, I don’t think I wanted him to.
And now he’s proving himself in more ways than one.
God help me.
* * *
“You look stressed,” Charlotte announces as I take my seat at our table. It’s Sunday, which means it’s brunch day, and boy, do I need some champagne.
With the draft commencing this week, I was busy following the team representatives to Las Vegas for the festivities, releasing a statement to the press as soon as they secured their new wide receiver, Jake Young, in the first round. The new rookie will arrive tomorrow and then attend rookie camp this week with the rest of the draft picks and free agents all vying for a spot on the team.
But that means I haven’t seen Maddox in over a week, and the fact that I’m acutely aware of that is a problem.
There was a bouquet of calla lilies waiting in my hotel room for me when I arrived in Vegas and a massage paid for by Steve Harvey—a gift that I gladly partook in the last night I was there after being on my feet all day.
I sent him a text thanking him for the gifts but never got a response—which makes me wonder if something happened between then and now that made him change his mind. And not knowing is making me even more eager to see or hear from him again and figure out what the hell is going through both of our heads because all I know is that mine is spinning.
“I guess you could say that.” Reaching for my mimosa, I drain about half of it while my friends watch, waiting for me to elaborate. “What?”
“Care to talk about it?” Amelia asks.
“Um, well...”
Noelle pipes up. “How was Vegas? Was the draft everything you thought it would be?”
I’ve watched many NFL drafts in my life and came to the conclusion that there is a lot of waiting, and you just never know what might happen. This year was no exception. But being there in person was a reminder of how much energy exists in the football world, a world I hate to admit that I’ve missed.
“Seeing one live is definitely a much cooler experience than watching it on television. And there were so many men, ladies. A penis palooza!”
“Did you end your dry spell, then?” Charlotte asks. “I mean, youdidsay it’s been awhile, right?”
“Honestly, after the days were done, I was so exhausted that I just went straight to bed. I did get a massage one day, though. That felt great.”
“Nice.”
I twiddle my fingers for a moment, wondering how to ask for advice without asking for advice. I know I could just come out and say what’s going on with Maddox, but I’m just not ready to open up that can of worms.
“Say... can I ask you girls about something? It’s for my... friend.”
