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“Dear God, I love this job,” Nat says, low in my ear.
“It, uh, has its perks,” I say, with a shaky laugh, smoothing my hands down the front of my sweater absently.
“How do you want me?” Rizzo asks with a salacious grin, making it abundantly clear that he’snottalking about for the video. Nat makes a tiny squeaking sound, like a mouse, and I pull my lips in to hide my smile. Rizzo arches a brow in interest, shifting his smile to her and extending a hand.
“Anthony Rizzo, at your service.” Nat takes his hand and her cheeks flush.
“Uh, Natalie.” She shakes her head. “No. Nat. I’m Nat.”
“Why don’t you get Rizzo in the right spot, Nat?” I say, amusement in my tone and she cuts her eyes at me, giving me a narrowed look. I arch a brow back.
She recovers, her confident demeanor settling back in place. “Sure, come with me.”
“Oh,gladly…” Rizzo says, trailing off as Nat leads him away, her shoulders tight.Oh, she may be in trouble with that one.
I cough to cover my laugh.
“So…?” Connor asks, extending his arms and looking at me expectantly.
“It’ll do,” I say, noncommittally, though I have to force myself not to stare. I almost say that I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed, but I figure that’ll definitely be taken as flirting. I always flirt to an extent, it’s just how I am, maybe just part of being from the south honestly, but that comment may be overtly flirting, and I don’t need to be flirting with any of them, least of all Connor Shepherd. In this particular moment, the reason I don’t need to flirt escapes me, but I’m sure it’s a good one. Probably.
“It’ll do?” He snorts, but then studies me, tilting his head to the side. “You’re shorter.”
“Huh?” I blurt eloquently. His lips quirk upward on one side.
“The last time I saw you, you were much taller,” he clarifies.
“Oh, heels,” I say with a shrug. Without my six-inchers on today, I only come up to just below his chest. Most everyone else here wears jeans and sneakers to work, so I’d decided after those first couple of weeks of wearing dresses and heels, that I could relax my own wardrobe too. I like dressing up every now and then, but I’m far more comfortable in leggings and a t-shirt, so I was relieved to be able to dress more casually at work.
“So, I’m not gonna lie, I don’tquiteunderstand how this little video is going to work,” Connor says, eyeing the line of all of his teammates while Nat shifts them around.
“It’ll make sense once it’s done, I promise.” I hope. If I can make it work the way it looks in my head, it’ll be awesome. “Ok, so you’re over there by…I honestly can’t keep all the names straight yet. Mustache and Sideburns. Go stand between them.”
Connor chuckles quietly. “Mustache is Jonah Parrish—Rish. Sideburns is Henrik Glanowski—Nowski.”
“Right. Got it.” I don’t got it, but I will soon. I’d made flashcards with each player’s picture, name, nickname, position, and stats last night so I could start studying. It’s my job to know all these guys and use my knowledge of them to help get fans’ asses in the seats, and I take my job seriously. Connor gets into position and after a few tweaks, I think we’ve got it.
“Alright y’all,” I say loudly enough for them all to stop their low conversations and look my way.
“Say that again!” Jules calls and most of the other guys laugh. I smile, but ignore him.
“On the count of three, I’m gonna have you all jump straight into the air. When you land, feel free to lean into the vibe a bit. Straighten your tie, keep eye contact with the camera, tilt your sunglasses down—that kind of thing. Play up the sexy,” I add, and a few whoops rise up among the players. I chuckle. “We’ll do it a few times and combine all the shots into what I’m hoping will be a video that will go viral.”
"I had something viral once," Rizzo says and everyone either laughs or groans or both. Connor reaches around Mustache—Rish—and shoves Rizzo in the shoulder. I just shake my head.They're children, the bunch of them.
Based on the research I’d been doing on Clipper, this type of thing would absolutely get attention. The app tracks the content that you watch and uses an algorithm to send you more videos that are similar. So, my entire video feed is pretty much nothing but hot athletes in various states of undress right now. Not that I’m complaining or anything, but…my job is super weird sometimes.
We go through the process a handful of times, making a few tweaks here and there when I compare it to the previous footage, I’ve gotta admit, they all rock it. Some of them too well. The way Rizzo stares into the camera and runs his thumb across his lower lip is going to get someone pregnant through the screen somehow. Don’t ask me to explain the physics, but it’s going to happen.
I tell myself not to watch Connor but of course I don’t listen. There’s something about him that continually pulls my gaze his way. He’s more understated. Instead of eye-fucking the camera like Rizzo, he looks slightly away, smiling this secretive, sexy smile, and rubbing a tattooed hand across the back of his neck before lifting his eyes upward slowly….
Fuck.
I have to look away, heat flooding my cheeks and a slow shiver working its way down my spine. This was a terrible idea. A brilliant one actually, but terrible all the same. I make sure that I have myself under control before I yell out to them.
“Alright, I think we got it! Thanks guys!” They all mill around a bit, small groups breaking out into conversation. Nat and I look over the footage, pointing out shots we definitely want to use.
“Are you coming to the game tonight?”
