by Celia Crown
I close my locker and my lips curl in disgust, “No.”
His mouth opens widely and puts a hand over his chest, “I look great, okay? It took me days to get this hairstyle right.”
“And it looks like shit!” another voice shouts from the wall mirror.
Romero turns and stalks up to another teammate and they get into a stupid argument about who can get more pussy in one night. I faintly pick up on some words about who has a bigger dick and I turn away just in time to see their juvenile quarrel turn into a measuring contest.
I don’t know what kind of household they both grew up in, but I do not want to see men pulling their pants down to prove that they are bigger. My other teammates go on to do their own thing and ignore the two dumbasses as if it is a regular thing that happens.
Sad to say, something like this frequently happens.
A round of claps catches everyone’s attention, I slip on my shoes as our coach cackles with his pink gums taking over his grin.
“Y'all did great last game!” his southern voice laces with proudness in them, “Tonight is your free night after you meet with your fans!”
Our coach, Russell, is a laid-back man who understands that pushing his players to be the best through vigorous workouts and practices won’t do us any good. He knows our limits and he knows how to train us to be better when the time is right, Russell believes in achievements through hard work and not hard labor.
Romero’s voice is the loudest amongst us, and I lean on the locker and stare into space.
I’m thinking of how I can find out more about my Evelyn, our coach could go either way; he could pretend that I didn’t basically stalk a young girl on the computer or he could scold at me for invading a woman’s privacy like a creep.
I can just hear the groans from him.
“Pack it up, boys!” he turns to leave as he shouts from his shoulder, “We’re leaving in ten!”
I take out my phone and tap in information about the university on the card, the first thing that comes up is the homepage of it and I read the description, taking note on the distance between our training camp and the main campus.
I will go to that university and demand to know what my Evelyn’s class schedule is. I doubt they will deny me access after they see a football star on their campus, I’m willing to do anything to see her again.
Tomorrow seems to be a good day to go since by the time the fan meeting is done, the university is closed for the day. I stifle down a growl of annoyance, this inconvenience is starting to piss me off as it will take longer for me to see her.
I’m the first one out the locker room, my feet carry me to the front entrance where a large bus is waiting for us. Some fans are outside of the perimeter of bricks but they all are screaming at the front gate, I step into the bus without a glance to them.
Support from fans is not my priority right now, I rarely indulge in their creative attention-getting techniques like some of my teammates. Occasionally, it’s a good laugh when we’re in the privacy of our locker room and field practices or on the road.
Every team member takes their own two spaces, no one can physically sit next to each other because our bodies are too bulky to be comfortable in these regular seats. Getting smushed together is unpleasant, especially when it’s against another man.
I like my teammates, they’re family, but there’s a line that everyone refuses to cross and that is to be rubbed against each other.
We hug after games, we shower in the same shower room, and some walk around butt-ass naked, but those are norms that we’re all too used to that we’re desensitized. Physical touches that are too personal is not that easy to get used to.
Though we are in our own seats, it doesn’t stop the team’s two loud-mouths to conversate with each other over the quiet trip.
“You know, we are mythological creatures.” Romero’s voice sounds loudly to our other teammate, Zeke.
Zeke replies with an interested tone, “How so?”
“We’re a team of giants,” Romero says as if everyone in the hearing vicinity would understand.
Zeke did because his mind works the same way as Romero’s, “Never really thought about it that way, but it is true.”
“Right?” Romero answers back with excitement in his voice.
I close my eyes and tries to tune out the volume, it’s not possible when one voice raises the other to be the loudest.
“We got bigfoot, sasquatch, yeti, and our running back Slenderman.” Zeke crackles at his stupid list.
An indignant yell from the front snaps back at them, “These long ass arms scored us some good games!”
If I’m not going to get some rest, I might as well try to gather more information about my mysterious girl. The phone unlocks in my hand and I type in her name in the search bar, there are other Evelyn White results that came up, but I’m looking for a lovely redhead with the prettiest eyes and the most adorable smiles.
I find her.
Her Instagram is filled with pictures of her and another girl with black hair, they are always together in the picture as they document every moment of their lives. Pictures of them at places while being adorable brings a smile on my lips, a photo of them making pottery gets messy with Evelyn’s face concentrating with clay smudged on her cheeks.
The bus pulls into a building and I look to the window to see the large building illuminated for our presence, the entrance has someone waiting for us as Russell gets off first to greet the other man.
I maneuver off the bus with my head bent since I’m a bit too tall. The smell of ending spring and beginning summer is a distinguishable scent; not too floral from the flowers and not too pungent from the heated asphalt, the breeze feels cold on my skin as the sun just hid behind the horizontal line.
“Ah, fuck!” Romero complains behind me, “My back is sore!”
Zeke snorts, “Don’t be a drama queen, girls don’t find that attractive.”
“I have plenty of sex appeals,” Romero protests.
“Of a fucking horse,” Zeke counters back.
A loud gasp follows with, “And hung like one!”
I leave the two bickering boys behind me and walk up the flight of stairs to let the bright yellow lights soak into my skin. The building is nothing too distinctive as no eye-catching objects are shown, the security is not air-tight. Nothing too fancy, but it’s enough to block out zealous fans as the only ones who are supposed to know this location is the fans who got the VIP tickets.
Secrets leak like a faucet when it comes to our locations, it’s still a wonder how the hell do people find out these things when no one on the team talks.
One woman in a suit leads everyone to the meeting room where there are seats and a long table for us to sit.
“Get seated, gentlemen,” the woman said while gesturing to the table.
We choose a seat and I picked the one by the edge, whatever edge is fine as long as I get my space.
“Y’all boys know what to do,” Russell clears his throat with a jolly grin, “Dazzle your fans!”
This isn’t the first private fan meeting we had, and it wouldn’t be the first signing either as the more we interact with them the more they support us. It’s also a double-edged sword because some think they are more special and twist our words as affection to their worship and their perceived relationship with us.
I watch Russell nod to the woman and she turns to the four security guards to open another door to let the fans in.
Women come running over with screams and I’m glad that I’m at the end, and with hope, they might settle down when they get to me. I don’t need ruptured eardrums before the next game.
I raise my eyes and scan the group of women and men all have things they want to get autographed and phones out for pictures after the signing. One man had a professional photoshoot camera around his neck, and I’m not judging but it has big lenses.
My breath stops at a glimpse of copper hair and twinkling green eyes.
> My beautiful Evelyn.
Fuck, I detest the seat I took.
Chapter Three
Evelyn
This is not how I want to spend my Friday night.
I expect a peaceful night with movies playing and shoving my mouth with popcorn, I look forward to the slow night where I can just fall asleep on the couch with Julie snoring next to me.
What I don’t look forward is a bunch of grown women fawning over a group of burly men on a tiny table, they look like adults trying to have a tea party with children.
I wanted to stay home, Julie wanted to meet her favorite star, and I am no match for her two-hour explanation of how it is a chance of a lifetime to meet a group of legends.
“I’m your biggest fan!” the girl behind me squeals and I take a look at her from the corner of my eyes.
I have heard that phrase so many times that it’s like a broken record, people don’t have creative things to say when they’re facing a life crisis that’s known as their obsessions.
Julie’s exacerbated wheeze reaches my ears and I look at her with one eyebrow raised.
“You’re not getting anything signed?” she gapes.
I pause with everyone staring at me, I mentally curse her for bringing attention to us. “Am I supposed to get signatures?”
“Signatures,” Julie scoffs, her hand digs into my backpack and I had to yield to the force of her rummaging. “It’s memorabilia.”
She yanks out a book from my English class and slams it down in front of a blond-haired man who grins with a boyish smile that has Julie giggling behind her hands. I grimace at her embarrassing actions and turn my attention back to the man.
I feel eyes on me, and it’s not the eyes of curious people around Julie and me. It’s the type of staring that’s demanding my attention, it’s too consuming as I can’t ignore the pull. Looking over, there’s a man with black hair and eyes so magnetic that I can’t look away. I’m trapped under his alluring gaze that the dark brown hues of his eyes are wrenching my soul out.
“What’s your name?” the man in front of me asks, taking my eyes away from the awfully sexy man.
No one can be that attractive just by staring.
“Uh, Felicia,” I answer back after a moment of thinking.
Julie elbows me on the side, “It’s Evelyn, Evie is fine.”
“I wasn’t aware you’re my spokesperson.” I furrow my brows at her as the man opens my English book to sign his name.
“When a man hotter than the sun asks for your name, you give it to him! You can get laid!”
“I don’t care if he’s the president, he’s a stranger!” I huff at her, she narrows her eyes at me.
I know the man that’s signing my book is her favorite football star because she has shown me so much video and pictures of him that I know his face better than I know my own. I’m pretty sure his name is Waldo Ricardo.
Julie puts a hand on her hip and glares at me with her lips pouting, “He’ll continue to be a stranger if you don’t talk to him!”
“Like you?” I rub my side and winces at the soreness.
“Excuse you.”
I say back to her, “Excused.”
The athlete chuckles at us before I move onto the man with a jawline sharper than a kitchen knife. My book gets slid across the table to the man and he takes it with his big hand curling around the book as if he’s holding it hostage.
I hear Julie barely containing her excitement and her restless feet as she squeals his name.
“I really wanted to meet you, Mr. Romero!”
Oh, well… I tried.
“Walter is fine, beautiful.”
Julie shrills, and I grimace again. I was nowhere near being right on his name.
“Hamlet?” a deep voice makes my tummy curl in desire as I snap my eyes to this utterly handsome man with shoulders wider than the Great Wall of China.
I laugh nervously and I try to take the book back before he grasps my hand with his bigger one, it engulfs mine in warmth as he cocks a smirk. Something is familiar about his touch and I can't place where this sensation is coming from.
“It’s for class,” I mention, subtly trying to get my hand back but he’s not relenting.
I feel Julie rummaging my backpack again and takes out another book, this time I can feel my face heat up as he looks back and reads the title.
“‘Rituals of Football’?” his baritone teases, the calloused fingers are distracting on the back of my hand.
Julie butts in, “Rituals? What’re you going to do, summon the god of football to do this paper for you?”
The paper requires me to know every single detail about football, the professor might as well tell me to learn a new language.
“I’m about to sacrifice you if you keep drooling about Walrus.” I purse my lips at her as I feel the man’s hand retreat to open the cap of his pen to scratch on the paper of my Hamlet book that I brought.
Good thing it isn’t on the football book, that is a borrow from the library and I do not want to pay a fine for ruining the book. I don’t want to be forced to buy this book if he were to write on it, I’ll probably forget about half the details by the time I’m done with this paper.
“Walter! His name is Walter and it’s not drooling. It’s pining!”
A silence follows, and I wish Julie wasn’t so absurdly loud as her face is stubborn without care to anyone’s thoughts.
She whines, “Don’t judge me.”
What she doesn’t know is that I judge her every day with her life choices, I judge every time she swoons over this Ramos character and the times where I caught her kissing the screen of her phone. Her fangirling is getting out of hands, and how she got these expensive VIP tickets would remain a mystery.
She probably lost so much sleep over this.
“Not a fan of football?” the man pulls me out of my thoughts and I give him a twitchy smile.
“I can see the appeal of sweaty and stinky men running around on a patch of grass,” I quip while trailing off at the end of the sentence.
“You hate football.” Julie throws her thoughts into the conversation and then goes back to fawning over the other man.
“I hate it so much.” I groan and nods apologetically to the man before me, “No offense.”
His chest rumbles, “None taken.”
It’s time for me to move on and stand to the side and let Julie meet this man, I can tell she doesn’t want to move away from the blond-haired man as she has this forlorn expression on her face as I gather up my books.
“Evie,” my name falls onto his lips and I force back a shudder.
There has to be a reason why this stranger is calling me so intimately.
“Stay after,” he purrs, dark eyes cloud with desire running in them as my nipples tighten under my bra.
I chuckle anxiously, “I don’t think that’s—”
“My name is Adam, and I have something of yours.” he interrupts, and my eyes widen at his statement.
Normally, I would be alarmed as it sounds like a threat. Adam is a man with power in his hands and he could do so many undesirable things to me in the privacy of a place that he chooses. My body aches for those big strong hands, and I curse the traitorous voice of mine.
“Okay?” I slowly say back.
I try to think what he could possibly have, I have never seen this man before in my life so there shouldn’t be anything of my possession in his hands. I absentmindedly stand off to the side and wrack my brain for answers as Julie skips towards me after her autograph with Adam.
Other women that are waiting with us glare in envy, they’re mostly directed at me as I have had the most contact with Adam. I didn’t notice the people in front of me, but now that I pay attention, I notice that Adam doesn’t touch anyone other than signing his signature on things.
“He doesn’t like being touched,” Julie comments, stars lining in her eyes as she ogles at Rick.
I’m sure I got his name right this ti
me.
“But he touched me, you must be wrong.” I shake my head, zipping my backpack after I shove the books in.
“Believe me, for I have watched every video on Titans, I know my facts.” she proudly nods to herself.
“Whatever you say.” even though I say that, I can’t help but feel a speck of giddiness that I’m a little special for being able to get him to touch me.
The sneers aimed at my head comes from two very envious girls off to the side, it makes my scalp itch and I scratch my hair with a sigh.
This is why I’m against going to this VIP meeting. Whenever and wherever there is a celebrity, there will be drama and I want to avoid them as much as possible. High school already had enough drama as it is, and I’m so glad that college is nothing like the catty cliques that fight over football players.
I do not want to be roped into the girls’ obsessiveness over their football star as I have more pressing matters to worry about, like the freaking essay paper on a topic that I have no idea about.
Julie said this is the perfect chance to learn about the sport when I have beautiful specimens to teach me.
Yes, every one of them has their own uniqueness. Bonus points for being remarkably gorgeous, I have never been in a room filled with so much masculine beauty. I didn’t want to offend them by thinking they are beautiful, I speak the truth about what I witness.
Adam turns to me and we meet eye to eye again, I give him a small smile and he cocks a smile back.
A set of squeals sharply penetrate my ears as the girls from the side yell his name. I can tell by the type of scream that they thought he was looking at them, I resist the urge to roll my eyes at their obnoxious shrills.
Julie doesn’t say much to me the entire time as she told me that she wants to take this moment to commit that Robert guy into memory. I stand off to the side, further away from everyone as I scroll on my phone for emails and other important things.
I want to wait and reread the email my English professor sent, it contains all the details about the paper and I must have skipped over the part where it said interview. I blink in astonishment and blink again, I read every word in my head as it does say that I would need to do an interview with someone from the topic.