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WHITT
After my first season playing for the Royals, where my family name had been the draw and there’d been cheesy headlines about the “American Royal” playing for the Royals, reporters hadn’t approached me regularly. Not the way they did some of the other guys on the team, like LaForge. But boy, had they ever since our suspension had been lifted, and after today’s home game against the Rush, they were hovering near me like gnats. I’d intercepted one of Ramsey’s passes during the game, but they didn’t want to talk about that, of course. I was doing my best, but I didn’t have Tucker’s charm or affable grin. He’d once told me I had the worst case of RBF he’d seen, with the exception of his sister Kayla. But I was trying.
The reporter currently interviewing me while both teams were still milling around the field had asked me two softball questions about my performance during today’s game, which had been fucking stellar, and then inevitably hit me with, “During a pregame interview, your boyfriend seemed convinced the Royals were going to fall apart during the third quarter.”
I chuckled at the obviousness and then gestured at the scoreboard. “I think the final score speaks for itself. But in case it doesn’t, I also had that interception, and hopefully, no one missed Ronson absolutely killing it in the fourth quarter.” He’d gained us a lead that secured our win and made the final minutes of the game a hell of a lot less stressful. “So I guess I’d say Tucker might want to take the smack talk down a couple of notches.” I cupped a hand around my mouth, feigning confidentiality. “But since that’s never gonna happen, feel free to remind him we smoked them today. Are reporters allowed to say that?”
“Excuse me, Patrick?” I whirled around at the sound of Tucker’s voice to find him smirking as he walked toward me.
I held up a finger to the reporter, signaling I’d be back, and then walked toward him, biting back a grin. “You realize I’m in the middle of an interview right now? You know, about how we just annihilated the Rush?”
“Thought you might need some tips on how to be more personable.” Tucker didn’t miss a beat at my jab, his smooth voice pouring into my ear, and goddamn, I couldn’t wait until we could be alone.
“We can trade. You give me interview tips, and I’ll teach you how to suck less at football.”
Tucker’s booming laugh was infectious. “Yeah, sure. That’s generous of you. I’m feeling generous, too.” He lowered his voice. “So maybe I’ll let you suck my cock twice tonight.”
My eyes darted to the reporter several feet away, but no way had he heard that over the noise.
“Low blow,” I said, trying hard for diplomacy and to focus elsewhere before Tucker’s stupid mouth got me hard in the middle of an interview.
“If that’s how you prefer it,” he joked. “Anyway, finish your interviews and get dressed. I want you to come out with me and the guys tonight.”
My eyes shot to the reporter again, but he was talking to Ronson now. “Sure that’s a good idea? I’m…uh, some of those guys are not my biggest fans.”
“Which is why you’re gonna win them over tonight. I mean, since you’re on a winning streak and all. Call me when you’re dressed. No pressure or anything.” With another mad cackle, the fucker spun on a heel and casually ambled toward the locker rooms, throwing up a peace sign as he went.
I huffed out a sigh and headed back toward the reporter, who’d just finished up with Ronson. “Sorry about that. Did you have any more questions?”
“What did Malik have to say?”
Nosy ass. I supposed I couldn’t blame him, though. “He just wanted to tell me what a badass I am.” I smirked, knowing that if they used that sound bite, Tucker would definitely have something to say about it. I looked forward to it. Offering the reporter a salute, I headed toward the locker room. “Shower’s calling me.”
Not my best exit, but good enough. I needed a long, hot shower and some time to myself to get it together before I entered the lion’s den known as Tucker’s crew.
* * *
“Still sure about this?”I asked Tucker again as I drove us to the Salty Pearl, which was one of Venice Beach’s newest hotspots, an oxymoronically hyped “swanky dive bar.”
“Nah. Let’s just go back to your place.” I tapped the brakes, totally on board with that idea, and then Tucker cracked up. “We’re doing this, baby. It’ll be fine. Or it won’t. But there won’t be any bodily harm involved. At least not on my watch.”
I stared flatly at him. “Super reassuring. Thanks.”
“I mean it.” His fingertips landed on my shoulder, moving in soothing arcs as I drove. “Still getting heckled by fans?”
“Not much. I think most of them have moved on to the next big thing.” It’d been rocky for a couple of weeks after the NFL concluded their inquiry, though. I’d seen signs in the stands calling me a traitor or implying I or my parents had bribed the NFL, and that was just the obvious stuff. “The Hardaways breaking up helped a lot.” The famous New York quarterback and his former-model wife had been together forever, so their separation and the subsequent crazy details coming out about mass orgies they’d hosted were all over the news. “I stopped looking at the headlines. I mean, fuck it, I’m just gonna play until I can’t or until I get let go. Everything else is just noise, right?” I glanced over at Tucker to find him grinning at me. “What?”
“Two things. One, would you ever be involved in a mass orgy?”
“Probably not, but shit, isn’t that kinda how we ended up here in the first place?”
He chuckled. “On a much smaller scale, maybe, but yeah. Mostly, we ended up here because your stubborn, jealous ass didn’t want to be one-upped by me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I just didn’t want Monica to experience the inevitable disappointment of going home with you. So, what was the second thing?”
“Hold up, ‘disappointment’?” Tucker snorted. “You saying sex with me is disappointing? Cuz those sounds you make when I’m railing you don’t sound so much disappointed as—” I reached out, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle him, and felt his laughter vibrating against my palm. “The second thing is,” Tucker said after pushing my hand away, “that you’re nervous as fuck right now.”
“I’m not nervous.”
