AllFreeNovel
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I scoured the Hot Shots social media pages in the week I’ve had to prepare for this moment. I’m going to take Dr. Hoover’s advice and jump into this assignment headfirst, making the most of it and learning everything I can.
“I do,” I nod.
Megan’s brow raises, impressed by the confidence in my response. “Let’s hear it.”
“I had an idea that we’d do a week-long campaign focusing on one individual player at a time. A peek into their daily life. Do a post with them at the library with a picture of them studying and a message about an assignment they’re struggling with, or a class they’re really enjoying. A post where they recommend our audience a book or series they’ve been enjoying lately. And, of course, a glimpse at their practice and workout schedule, too. A Day in the Life of Tristan River, for example, with one new post a day highlighting each of those different aspects of his day.”
Megan nods her head slowly, her lips pressed together in thought.
“Hm,” she ponders. My stomach churns until she finally says, “I like it.” Then, with another thoughtful nod of her head, she ups the ante. “I like it a lot.”
I have to lightly bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling way too hard.
“You can get started on it right away. This’ll be your baby.”
I give up trying to suppress the excited smile that curls on my lips while I bring out my phone and Megan shares the log-in details for all the Hot Shots social media accounts with me.
“I was thinking,” I say, “for the first Day in the Life profile, I think it would be perfect to focus on—”
“Liam Newcastle.”
Suddenly, I don’t need to bite my inner cheek to keep the smile off my face. It’s wiped off in no time flat as my stomach drops like a rock.
Megan quirks an eyebrow, clearly noticing the change in my expression. “Would that be a problem?”
Something tells me that Megan Sheffield is not the kind of person who takes well to personal issues getting in the way of work.
I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
It definitely is, actually. But that doesn’t matter. I’m just going to have to make this work.
She nods. “Good. We currently have a big crop of our best players graduating at the end of this year. Liam’s already one of our most recognizable players, but next year, he’s going to be the face of the team with so many of our current stars gone. He’s perfect for the first feature.”
“Of course,” I force myself to agree. “That makes a lot of sense. I agree he’s an excellent choice.”
“It just so happens, I think he’s working out in the team fitness center down the hall. Snapping a couple photos for a post about his workout routine could be a great start for this project. Workout pictures are always great for audience engagement.”
I bet they are.
“That sounds … perfect,” I say, trying by force of will to keep my body temperature from sky rocketing at the thought of walking into a gym where Liam is pumping iron.
“I’ll let you get to it, then,” Megan nods. She immediately turns her attention back to the work on her computer, my clear cue to leave.
When I step out of her office, I notice a sign on one of the walls pointing in the direction of the arena fitness center.
As I turn the corner towards team gym, I hear grunting. My thighs clench, heat pooling low in my stomach as I approach and the grunts grow louder in my ears. You might think you can’t distinguish one person’s grunts from another’s, but I’d recognizethosegrunts any day.
They sound exactly like the ones I heard behind me in the closet of the club on Halloween night.
I rub my clammy palms together.
I can do this. I just need to keep things simple and professional—the only way things can ever be between us now. He made it clear by not texting me during these three months that he has no interest in any follow-up to what we did on Halloween; and even if he did, we’re both off-limits thanks to the rules about players and support staff.
Not to mention the fact that I’m his coach’s daughter.
For him, the rules against players getting involved with staff might just be fine print, but the unwritten rule in all sports against getting involved with your coach’s daughter would be a big, bright, flashing sign the size of a billboard.
I push myself forward and step into the gym.
