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On the inside, I just want to jump out of the damn press box and drag him off to a broom closet somewhere so I can have him all over again.
I take a deep breath as I get ready to walk down to the locker room to interview Coach Petrovek and the rest of the players. I need to get it together before I see Johnny. I'm supposed to be putting myself into this article, not letting my fucking hormones run wild.
I try to be an impartial journalist as I push through the locker room doors, trying to act professional.
I want to be all serious and writerly, but the truth is that I'm a fucking mess.
And I've never been into this--I've neverwantedkids--but all I can think about is how I want to be bent over and bred.
Chapter twelve
Johnny
Gettingthroughthisinterviewis the hardest thing I've ever done.
I sit next to Coach Petrovek as the cameras flash, losing sight of Birdie every time someone takes a damn picture. I want to spend the whole night looking at her--not answering questions--but I can't get a good glimpse of her as questions pour in from the assembled journalists. They're all asking me if I've had any calls from agents, if I'm going major league...
...and I'm tripping over my damn tongue because all I can think about is getting Birdie back to my place and fucking her senseless.
"What about a girlfriend? Do you already have someone waiting back at home?"
I can feel my face go red. My third season here and I already have a record that rivals some major leaguers. I win almost every game--I get almosteveryshot I shoot.
Except Birdie.
I catch a glimpse of her in the crowd of journalists, and I let something real stupid slip.
"I'm seeing someone," I say, fixing my eyes on her. "We're waiting to see how it goes."
The journalists start to buzz, murmurs running through the crowd like a wave. I can't tell if they're excited because they think they have the scoop of the season or because they're disappointed that I might not be on the market.
Petrovek leans over and mutters in my ear as the reporters focus on Luke next. "Who's the broad?"
I don't take my eyes off of her as I answer. "Kind of hush hush."
Petrovek smirks. "So not just another notch on the bedpost?"
"Definitely not."
He laughs and shakes his head. He knows me too well. Knows that I'm not one for settling down. But he doesn't say anything. Just pats my back as the journalists continue to barrage me with questions.
Finally, the interview ends and we're free to go. Birdie and I carefully avoid each other as we let everyone else filter out--as I go to the locker room to get showered up and changed. I grab my phone to text her a meeting place, but she's way ahead of me.
Birdie:What's your address?
I blow out a breath, staring at my phone and knowingexactlywhat this means.
Johnny:7804 S...
"Who's Birdie?" Luke asks.
I shut off my phone and glare at him. "None of your damn business."
"Wait a second...isn't that the name of that journalist?" Luke says. "The one who wrote your puff piece?"
I nudge him and shake him off. "Like I said, none of your damn business."
He finally leaves me alone and I finish tapping out my address, sending it over to Birdie. She responds right away.
