by Ella Maise
While I was hoping it was a text from Kayla or Jared, my already nervous stomach twisted even more when I saw that it was Mark who had texted me.
Mark: Which room?
My fingers hovered over the screen. I was either going to keep ignoring him and try to stay as far away as possible, or I was going to get over it and focus on what I’d come to do. I waited until I was standing in the room before I texted him back. My phone pinged again, but this time it was Jared replying. Feeling the inevitable anxiety creep in, I decided not to write anything back to my friend until Mark found his way to my room, said what he needed to say, and left.
Only ten minutes had passed when I heard the insistent knock on the door. The first thing I did when he stepped in was to tell him that the trip was for one of my classes. I didn’t think he was even listening to what I was saying, because he started in on me before the words had even left my mouth. The energy he was giving off was scaring me, but I tried my best to keep my face neutral. After a long rant about the same things I had become all too familiar with, he warned me to ‘watch myself’ around his boys and strode out.
As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, I took a deep breath and let it all go. I was not going to let him get to me, not anymore.
After sending a quick text to my dad to let him know when he could come pick me up, I worked on some shots I was going to put up as stock photos on a few websites while talking on the phone with Jared. Miriam came up a bit later and eventually announced that she was ready to head down to the team meal room, so I grabbed my bag and my camera then followed her down.
“When will you get back?” she asked once we were in the elevator heading downstairs.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Well, the curfew for the team is eleven. Do you think you’ll be back before that?”
“I didn’t think the curfew was for us. Do I have to be back before that?” If I did, that would only give me a few hours with my dad, which wasn’t much considering he was driving in from Phoenix just to see me.
“I don’t think so. I mean, we can ask Cash to make sure, but I doubt it. I’m only asking because…well, I was wondering if you could send me a quick text before you head up to the room when you’re back.”
I gave her a quick look just as the elevator doors slid open. “Why?”
“Cash and I will…you know.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure. I’ll sit around in the lobby until the coast is clear.”
She let out a relieved sigh and linked her arm with mine as if we’d been best friends for years. “You would do that? Ah, thank you, Zoe. My roommate is a real killjoy. If she were here, she’d just walk in and interrupt us in the middle of—”
“I don’t mind,” I cut her off. “I mean, as long as it’s not for hours on end, it’s okay. I’ll grab my laptop before I leave so I can work while I’m waiting.”
She squeezed my arm a little tighter. “Oh, you’re the best. Thank you. Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait.”
We walked into a huge room where hotel employees ran around arranging tables and chairs for the players. There were still twenty minutes until the guys would be filtering in, and Cash wanted us to be ready to take shots of them as they piled food onto their plates. If they were happy with the photos we took during the weekend, apparently the team was going to consider using them in their brochures for the next year.
Under Cash’s careful watch, it took us fifteen minutes to take the photos then it was our turn to choose from whatever was left on the open buffet table. I grabbed some mashed potatoes, broccoli, and chicken.
When I hesitated while following Miriam, she touched my arm. “You coming?”
My eyes were glued to Dylan, who was sitting alone at one of the tables. Mark had already eaten and left, and I hadn’t seen Chris around after I’d taken a quick shot of him constructing a steak mountain on his plate. If there was ever a choice between Dylan and anyone else, I’d always go with my roommate.
“No, you go on. I’ll see you later.”
One hand holding the strap of my camera, the other balancing my plate, I pulled out a chair with my foot and sat across from Dylan.
“Hi,” I said softly, offering him a smile as I settled down.
He stopped eating and studied me with angry eyes.
When he didn’t say anything back, I started to lose my smile. After giving me a quick nod, he focused on his food again. Dylan had been one of the last ones to come in, so while I’d been taking shots of the players and the coaches who were eating, Dylan was nowhere to be found.
Picking up my fork, I pushed the broccoli stems around. “Are you okay?” I asked in a low voice as the silence turned uncomfortable, which had never happened between us before.
He dropped his fork with a clatter and reached for his water bottle.
Had I done something? I forced myself to swallow down a piece of broccoli and waited for him to say something.
Seconds passed, but nothing happened. As soon as he cleaned his plate, he started looking over his shoulders. It was obvious he didn’t want me sitting with him, and I had no idea why. Feeling a little bit hurt and, truth be told, confused, I cleared my throat and gathered up my plate so I could leave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was bothering—”
I was halfway up when he stopped looking around the room and met my eyes. “Was that Coach I saw going into your room earlier?”
I dropped back down in my seat and my plate clattered on the table, drawing the curious eyes of his teammates.
“What?”
“You heard me. I was coming to your room to see if you wanted to hang out, but Coach made it there before me so I didn’t bother.”
I swallowed hard. How to get out of this one? “And?” It was a lame attempt to play it cool, but I had nothing else.
“And?” His nostrils flaring, he pushed at his plate and leaned over the table. “I didn’t know you were close enough to invite him into your room.” Something he saw in my face made him pause, but unfortunately, it didn’t stop him. “I didn’t see either of you around for an hour.”
My mouth opened and closed as my hands formed into fists under the table. I slid forward in my seat, mimicking his stance.
“An hour? What are you saying, Dylan?”
His eyebrows inched up to his hairline. “I think you know what I’m saying.”
I sat back. I did know what he was saying, and why was I so surprised anyway? I’d already expected him to think exactly what he was thinking, but how had I not anticipated the hurt it would cause to actually hear the confirmation?
“He was only in my room for five minutes, Dylan, six tops. My dad is driving in from Phoenix to see me, and Mark wanted to know if he was going to make it to the game tomorrow.”
My heart sank, and I hated myself a little more for the lie Mark had essentially forced me to tell.
“Your dad is coming,” he echoed.
“Yes.” I pushed my plate away, grabbed my camera, and stood up. “He should be here any second, so I better go…” I was waiting for him to say something, but it was pointless; he just studied me with his ocean blue eyes as if trying to decipher everything I couldn’t say out loud. “Yeah, I’ll just leave.” And with that clever closing remark, I pulled my eyes away from Dylan’s expectant gaze and walked away.
Instead of waiting in the lobby, I sat down outside on the stairs and tried not to think too much about Dylan and how my feelings for him were evolving from just a simple attraction. About an hour had passed when I saw a metallic blue truck coming my way. Quickly, I got up and ran toward it. As soon as my dad’s feet hit the ground, I threw myself into his arms and closed my eyes.
“Dad.”
His arms rounded my shoulders and he held on just as tight as I did, if not tighter.
“My little baby girl.”
My nose was already tingling. “I missed you,” I mumbled into his chest. “I missed you so much.”
His hand smoothed my h
air down and he leaned back to look at my face.
“Zoe? What is this?”
His arms slowly dropped and he held my face in his palms, his thumbs wiping away my silent tears.
“Nothing,” I muttered after a pathetic sniffle, again pushing my head into his chest where I knew he would keep me safe.
I had no idea where the tears had come from—well, okay, I knew, but I hadn’t been planning on losing it so soon and worrying him. He sighed and burrowed closer, my body rocking with unexpected sobs as I realized how much I had missed him.
We heard a honk behind us, but I was reluctant to let him go, and thankfully, my dad showed no signs of hurrying. He kissed my forehead, brushed my tears away yet again, and nodded once he was sure I was holding it together.
“We’ll figure it all out together,” he murmured. Walking me back to the passenger side, he helped me up. When I was securely inside, he closed the door and jogged around the car. After lifting a hand in apology to the car behind us, he hopped in.
As I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my eyes caught on someone near the hotel door. He was leaning against one of the columns, arms crossed over his chest, his face unreadable from afar.
It was Dylan.
Around eleven thirty, my dad dropped me off back at the hotel and we had another tearful goodbye. He was spending the night at a different hotel—he didn’t want to come face to face with Mark—so we could spend a few more hours together the next day, but I didn’t want him to sit around and wait for me when I didn’t even know if I’d have any free time to sneak out.
My mind on anything but Miriam and Cash, I took the elevator all the way up to my room only to find the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle. After the weird exchange with Dylan earlier, I’d completely forgotten to go back up to my room to get my laptop before meeting my dad. Instead of knocking on the door, I went back down to the lobby.
The whole place pretty much looked dead. Other than a few people hanging around the front desk and the occasional hotel guest stumbling in through the door, I was pretty much alone where I sat facing the front doors.
After sending a quick text to Miriam to let her know I was downstairs, I watched puppy videos on Instagram to kill some time.
Just as I was writing out a text to Kayla, another message popped up on my screen.
Dylan: I’m sorry.
I stared at the screen, not sure whether I should answer or not. Answering him meant I’d have to keep lying to him, but then again, it wasn’t like I could avoid him forever, or wanted to avoid him at all.
Dylan: I’m a complete asshole.
Dylan: Will you open your door if I knock?
My lips stretched into the biggest smile. No, I really didn’t want to avoid him at all.
Me: Didn’t you have a bed check at eleven?
Dylan: And?
Me: So aren’t you supposed to be in bed since it’s past eleven?
Dylan: Just because we have a curfew doesn’t mean we have to go to sleep at eleven.
Me: But it means you shouldn’t leave your room, right?
Dylan: It’s okay if you don’t want to see me Zoe. You can tell me.
My fingers hesitated. I hit myself in the forehead with the back of the phone a few times before I found the courage to type out what I wanted to say next.
Me: I’d love to see you Dylan. I always like seeing you.
Lame. Lame. Lame.
Dylan: :)
Dylan: Then open your door.
Did I tell him I was actually in the lobby because Miriam was getting busy in the room and risk him getting in trouble with Mark if he decided to come down?
Me: I don’t want you to get in trouble, and Miriam is here, too, so…
Dylan: Yeah. Okay, you’re right.
Dylan: It’s just weird knowing you’re here and not seeing you, I guess. I think I’m missing my roommate.
I looked around to check if anyone was watching me. Thankfully, no one was. Pressing on my cheeks with my fingers, I tried to keep my smile in check. Before I could write back that I was missing him too, another text chimed in.
Dylan: I saw your dad. You cried.
Me: I miss him.
Dylan: I shouldn’t have said what I said at dinner.
I watched the dots appear and disappear several times.
Me: It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.
When nothing came back for a few seconds, I wrote again.
Me: I think I’m missing my roommate too.
Dylan: Yeah?
Me: Yup.
Me: Are you in bed? What are you doing?
Dylan: Yeah. Chris brought his Xbox with him so we’ve been playing Madden since dinner, but he’s on the phone now.
Dylan: And I’m talking to you.
Oh God. Are we flirting? I really hoped we were flirting. My heart skipping all over the place, I put the phone down in my lap and pressed the backs of my hands to my cheeks to absorb some of the heat, and to stop myself from smiling like a lunatic in the middle of the lobby—though, I was pretty sure it was too late for that.
I must have taken too much time to come up with something clever because before I could reply, I saw the dots jump around again.
Dylan: Are you in bed?
Yup. We were flirting.
Abort. Abort.
Me: Yep.
So clever, Zoe.
Dylan: That’s good.
My heart in my throat just from texting with him, I dropped my head back and gazed at the colorful high ceilings.
Just when I was about to write, Yeah it’s comfy—another terribly clever response—Miriam saved me.
Miriam: Coast is clear. You can come up!
Thinking I would for sure come up with something better once I was in my room, I headed toward the elevators.
Dylan: I think you fell asleep. Sweet dreams, Zoe. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Groaning, I decided not to answer so he could get some sleep and just headed up to my room.
Chapter Sixteen
Zoe
The entire day was a whirlwind of breakfast, meetings, nap time, meetings, lunch, and then game time. Before I could take in the stadium or the level of noise around me, Cash was ushering me to the sidelines so I could take a few shots of the players warming up before the game.
“Miriam will cover the coaches. You cover the boys.”
That was fine with me—more than fine, actually. I did a 360 and gulped when I took in my surroundings.
Dear God.
So many eyeballs.
It didn’t escape my notice that I’d been saying the same thing a lot since the day before, but there were just so many people…hence so many eyeballs.
“Zoe! Get to it!” Cash yelled as he was walking back to Miriam’s side. I swallowed again and nodded.
I was standing a little to the left of the player tunnel, camera in my hand, trying to find the perfect setting, when Dylan, Chris, and a whole slew of guys jogged out.
I felt eyeballs on me all right, not because they couldn’t take their eyes off of me or anything like that, but more because I looked lost, like a fish out of water. Only one set of those eyeballs sent a tingle up my spine, and those belonged to Dylan Reed.
With the confidence in the way he walked onto the field, the way his eyes locked on mine over his shoulder right before he joined his friends to stretch and do drills…I was done for. Seeing the perfection of him in that uniform wasn’t helping the matters at all.
My camera still in my hands, I watched him disappear into the crowd of his teammates. A few seconds later, I spotted him again, thanks to the big number twelve on the back of his jersey. I kept watching as his biceps bulged under those huge shoulder pads and he lowered himself to the ground, where he and the rest of the team started their pregame warm-up routine with stretches. Was his ass that tight at all times or had he done something to it in the locker room? All I had going for me was that my mouth wasn’t hanging open; that was pretty much it.
<
br /> I was startled enough that I did a little jump when I heard Cash yell my name again.
Right.
Photos.
I was supposed to take photos.
So many coaches and important-looking people milling around, talking, arguing in huddles. Like a little snake, I walked around them and took a shit load of pictures of the boys doing drills on the field, and then I approached Miriam and Cash where they stood away from everyone. If they thought there were too many photos of Dylan Reed, that wasn’t my problem.
“You done?” Miriam asked, taking a step away from Cash.
“I think so. I think I got some good shots, but it’s my first time doing this, so I’m not sure if they’re actually good. I like them though.”
She bit down on her bottom lip and looked around. “It’s a little overwhelming isn’t it?”
That was an understatement.
“There are so many men with cameras around, I have no idea why they needed us.”
Miriam shrugged and gave me a small shoulder bump. “Who cares. It’s been fun, and don’t think I didn’t notice you cozying up to Dylan Reed last night in the meal room.”
It was right on the tip of my tongue to tell her I wasn’t cozying up to anyone and that he was just my roommate, but I managed to keep it in and offered her a smile instead.
Gesturing to Cash with my chin, I whispered, “Looks like that went well for you.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry, I fell asleep before you made it up to the room—he pretty much killed me.”
I leaned forward a little to take another look at Cash. I could admit he wasn’t awful or anything like that. Five nine to Miriam’s five five with an okay body—though in comparison to Dylan and all the other players on the field, he was basically skinny—and fingers long enough that you felt obligated to do a double take, he had longish wavy hair that curled around his ears, brown eyes that moved around restlessly, and thin lips pressed into a straight line. Different strokes for different folks, I supposed. There was nothing wrong with his look, but the way he acted like he was working on a story for the Times would start to get on my nerves if I had to spend one more day around him.