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Ginger is at Joe’s. The baseball team and the girlfriends bought a section of tickets to the football game tonight. School spirit is a top priority. As an athlete, I perform better when the crowd is standing room only, but the way my leg is throbbing, climbing the ramps into the uppers where the available students are located isn’t possible.
It’s cramping and swollen because I’ve overused it today. I lay down on the couch, propping it up on the rolled arm as I pop some Motrin tablets. Ginger and I always have it handy because it relieves the pain in our muscles. My phone dings with a notification.
Logan:You coming to the game tonight?
Me:No, I’m resting my leg. I’ve been on it all day.
Logan:Kickoff isn’t for five hours. You have to come. I’m giving you my ticket up in the suite. I’ll have my sister Kaylee pick you up. She’ll be in there too.
Me:Are you sure you don’t want to give it to one of your one-nighters? It will probably earn you a blow job.
Logan:No, this ticket is reserved for my friend.
Me:Okay, thanks Logan. Kick Ole Miss’s butt tonight.
Logan:No doubt.
I like his last text. When it comes to football, Logan is the cockiest guy on campus. What am I saying? He’s cocky all the time, especially with football—and the ladies.
After napping, I throw on jeans, a royal blue sweater, and a blanket scarf with houndstooth pattern, hoping it will be enough to keep me warm. I detest carting a coat around the football stadium.
There’s a knock on my door two hours before the game. As I open it, I introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Adalee. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Kaylee, Logan’s older sister,” she replies as she chuckles. “Whenever we’re together, people think I’m younger because he’s enormous—six-foot-five.”
Kaylee’s visibly pregnant and probably in her mid-twenties. She and Logan share the same eyes and hair color, but there’s a huge disparity in their height.
We talk all the way to the stadium about my torn ACL, when the baby is due and that she has a daughter who’s already at the football field with her dad. She pulls into a primo parking spot that says,PRESS. After a short glass elevator ride, we step into a gorgeous gray hallway adorned with framed pictures of former Stallion players in their NFL gear. A gold sconce is placed between each image, giving the long walkway warmth.
“Here we are,” Kaylee says.
I’ve been at the university for three years but have never had a reason to hobnob with the connected Kentucky Bluebloods. Logan has set me up in a suite, and I’m not complaining. I hope he doesn’t think I’m interested in him. One girl will hit the jackpot when he tires of his one-nighters.
An extremely handsome man in a suit, stroll toward us with a swagger and confidence. He’s not huge but wears his suit well. His black hair is slicked back, and his grin grows as he reaches us. My eyes dart down and see a pretty little toddler with a dark complexion and honey brown hair.
He kisses Kaylee. “Hey sweetheart.” He pauses, “I’m Nic Mancini, Logan’s brother-in-law.”
Another couple, also dressed in professional attire, join our circle as I’m saying, “Hi. I’m Adalee.” The couple glance over their shoulder and then back to me.
“Nice to meet you.”
I stare at the two men in front of me. They both look oddly familiar. “Did either of you play football or something? Where I would have seen you before?”
“I’m a sports announcer, working in the booth today,” Nic says.
I feel my eyes go wide because recognition hits me in the face that he’s on ESPN. I fangirl and say, “That’s how I recognize you. I’m on the gymnastics team.”
Then the taller one extends his hand as his clear brown eyes flicker. “Hi, I’m Archer Chatham. You may know my brother, Hagan.”
Yes I do. I’m staring at an older version of Hagan. Yes, I’m salivating—they’re both hot.
His hand is warm, and I shake it a little too long. How did I not spot they have the same I-can-get-lost-in-you golden brown eyes? I swallow hard. “Yes, sir. Is he here?”
“Yes, he’s down with some of the baseball team. So, are yougoodfriends with Logan?” He stresses the word good. A lady walks up beside him. “This is my wife, Megan.”
We exchange pleasantries and I can see where Hagan gets everything—his looks, his smooth sophistication, andhis self-assuredness. It’s as if they seep sexy from their pores and like icing on a hot doughnut–a perfect glaze.
I don’t understand why all of these beautiful people are here, so I ask Nic, “Are you calling the game? I bet that’s hard since you’re related to Logan.”
