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I’d taken it on a whim because I needed to fill a hole in my schedule, and the course I’d really wanted had been full. In the end, it had been such a lucky turn of events for me because being in that class had changed the course of my career plans. And my idea to do data visualization for the university baseball team for my final paper was the only reason I’d landed my internship with the Nighthawks.
Although the two sports were completely different—my school didn’t even have a football team, so that wasn’t an option—the method I applied to my project could be easily adapted to football. My professor had apparently mentioned it to someone with the team, and before I knew what was happening, I’d been offered the internship. The opportunity had been too good to pass up, especially since the demand for advanced football analytics had grown in recent years.
By the time the first half was over, my head was already spinning with ideas for how to analyze the data we had collected so far. I’d gotten some ideas while playingBeaumont Footballduring the beta—especially when I was up against SpreadOffense—but seeing the professional players on the field from the press box was a completely different experience. Something about experiencing the game from this perspective was exhilarating.
I had a feeling my brothers would be teasing me about my new favorite sport for the rest of my life. They could keep baseball and hockey for themselves because I would call dibs on football.
The only downside so far was that I’d barely been able to log any stats for my favorite player—Gage Ledger.
The first I’d heard of him was when I researched which players I wanted to draft inBeaumont Football.I’d been intrigued by his running stats, which were impressive. Then SpreadOffense snapped him up before I could, and for some reason, that made me focus on Gage even more as I started to pull historical numbers before I started my internship. It was disappointing that I hadn’t been able to see him play much in person yet.
As the teams started to leave the field, I turned to my boss and asked, “Why haven’t the starting players been on the field except for a few plays?”
One of the coaches was walking past me and answered before my boss could. “There’s a couple of reasons for that. Preseason success doesn't automatically translate into a good regular season, so the pressure isn’t as high right now. Which means there isn’t a solid reason to risk injury for our starters. It also allows us to take the time to judge our fringe players while we solidify our roster for the season.”
Thinking about the numbers I’d compiled on the players who rarely got any playing time last season or were new to the team, I nodded. “Gotcha, that definitely makes sense.”
The coach extended his hand with a smile. “I’m Cole O’Hara, by the way. Offensive coordinator for the Nighthawks.”
I slid my palm against his and grinned, my cheeks filling with heat as I blurted, “Yeah, I know. Your play calling is a big reason the Nighthawks were the top-scoring team last year. You definitely did your part to earn that championship ring.”
“Thanks,” he murmured with a deep chuckle.
My boss clapped me on the back. “This is Rory Abernathy, my intern for the season. She’s a junior at NYU, double majoring in math and computer science. She did some interesting datavisualization for the NYU baseball team that I’m hoping will offer you additional insight when she runs some models of the offense for us this season.”
“That sounds fucking fantastic to me.” He jerked his head toward the door. “I look forward to hearing more about it later. I gotta get down to the locker room so I can talk to a few of my guys during halftime.”
2
GAGE
“Who the hell is that?”
I dragged my attention away from watching the second and third liners play during our first preseason game. Thirty-one wasn’t exactly ancient in the sport, but those little twentysomething fuckers were making me feel old.
Micah, one of our linebackers, was looking up, and I followed his gaze but wasn’t sure what he was referring to.
“Who?”
“In the press box.”
I glanced up and frowned, seeing only the typical gang of reporters and Coach O’Hara.
“Wait for it,” Micah muttered.
A second later, one of the reporters walked away, revealing someone new. We were far enough away that I couldn’t see any small details, but there was no missing her spectacular curves. My dick had definitely noticed, too, because he was suddenly hard as a rock. The only other things I could make out were wild, light brown curls and glasses. Attraction sizzled in my veins, but then guilt trickled in as I thought about my little gaming nerd.
Maybe this was my answer. If I was attracted to someone else, it would only complicate things to meet my anonymous friend in person.
But that felt wrong too.
“Damn,” one of the rookies murmured, and I scowled when I noticed he was also staring up at the box.
“Focus on the game, jackasses,” I growled. “You don’t have time to be mooning over some random woman.”
“Yeah, but—”
I whacked the back of the rookie’s helmet to shut him up. Their interest in the curvy bombshell was causing a burning in my gut.Not jealousy,I told myself.I want their attention on the game, dammit.
