I swing open the door, forgetting that I’m still in my bath towel.
“Did I come at a bad time?” Topher asks, looking me in the eyes.
“No, not at all. Do you want to come in?” I ask awkwardly.
He walks in silently, with his hands in his pockets. He looks at the chair be the bed and grabs my luggage sitting on it and places it on the floor.
“Let me, um, get dressed. I’ll be right back.” I quickly grab some clothes that I had laid out on the bed and rush into the bathroom. After dressing, I take a deep breath, pull my hair up in a ponytail and make sure I look presentable.
I walk out and sit on the side of the bed that faces him.
“Where do you want me to start?” I ask, knowing that I’m the one who has to do the talking.
“Let’s start with why.” He says, his tone void of emotion.
I take a deep breath, put my hands in my lap and look at him.
“I’ve been crazy for you since I was a kid. When I figured out that you didn’t recognize me, I ran with it. And then, when I found out you were interested in me, I was scared to speak up.”
“Did you have any intention on telling me?” He asks.
“Yes. The past few days, I have had my stomach in knots trying to figure out a way to bring it up. I knew that for anything to become of us, I needed to say something. And I seriously regret not coming out and saying it right from the start. But I can’t go back and reverse time. I’m so sorry that I said nothing.”
“I honestly don’t know what to do, Mila. Your brother was my best friend. Your family was my family. And I admit, we lost contact, but that doesn’t change the fact that you should have told me. You knew who I was, how is that fair for me to not know who you are?”
“It’s not. I’m sorry that I took that away from you.” I say with tears in my eyes.
“Does Randy know?”
“No. He usually stays out of my romantic life.”
“Good. I can’t have him coming after me or my players right now.” He stands and looks around the room, as if he’s looking for something. “I need some time. I have a game that I need to dedicate my full attention to. I needed to at least talk to you before then I could lift some of the distraction.” He passes me to the door.
“I’m sorry, Toph. I’m so sorry.” I say, the tears streaming down my face, unable to hold them back any further.
“I’ll talk to you later.” The door opens and then he’s out of my room.
I’m unsure what will become of our relationship, if there will be one, or when I will talk to him again.
The exclusive just started, and I’m sitting at the edge of my bed nervously twirling a strand of my hair as I watch to get out of the funk that I’ve put myself in. Even though the interviews were all spaced out, the editors pieced everything so seamlessly that you would have thought they were all compiled together.
By the end of the one hour exclusive, I was happy with the result. Minutes after the airing, my phone notifications were out of control. Dozens of messages of praise and I watched as a hashtag started trending on social media. I used my professional social media accounts to post about the gratitude of the viewers for the rest of the night. Replied to emails and texts, then eventually passed out for the evening.
Chapter 13
TOPHER
We have eight hours until the big game begins. After a relaxing morning shower, I make my way downstairs to the restaurant in the hotel which the club has rented out for a team breakfast.
One by one, the players trickle in. Some are chatty, others with their headphones on, just getting their days started.
Once everyone arrives, the team owner stands, demanding attention from everyone present. The room silences after a few moments and then the team owner claps his hands.
“I want to say a hefty congratulations to everyone that is a part of this team for making it this far. You guys, we’re in the biggest game of the year, that is something that is pretty incredible.”
The room erupts in applause, then when the owner stops, the applause ceases.
“This season, I’ve watched rookies make their name known, I’ve seen unbelievable plays constructed by the coaching staff and executed effortlessly by the players. I’ve heard the fans roar and have seen Seattle celebrate. You guys have kicked ass this season and the club couldn’t be prouder. Today is your day. Play your best. Celebrate your success and be proud of this family. Whether we win or lose today, we got here by playing fair, by playing our best, and by the grace of God. Let’s have an excellent breakfast and then play our best one last time this season.”
More applause.
Several carts get wheeled in and they set a carving station up with several kitchen staff standing beside the stations.
Everyone mingles around the room, grabs plates and fills them with their standard pre-game meals.
Some guys continue listening to their headphones to stay in their own special zone, others mingle, and some take their food back to their rooms. We have to be at the field a little after noon and sometimes, being alone is needed when we will be surrounded by so many in a few brief hours.
I stick around, chat with a few of the players, shake hands with the management, then walk back out to head back to my room to review a few bits of business before we have to report to the stadium.
I grab my laptop and begin to browse the web.
I typically keep my social media presence to the professional standards that are required by the team. I have a private profile for friends and family, and I still have my page from when I was playing, which I changed to coaching. I check that page and see that I’ve been tagged by one of the coaches from dinner the other night. I see that Sideline Sports have also tagged me in their promos for the exclusive that aired last night.
I watch some of the highlight reels, read some comments and reviews. There were several social media posts, siding with either team, and tons of hype for the big game today.
After going down an internet spiral and reviewing some content that she’s reported on, I started looking at Mila’s profiles. Her image is sparkling clean. She posts on the regular, both professional content and some snippets at her private life. She never eludes to the public that she is of any relation to Randy Harris and, as far as I can see, hasn’t used the name Mila Harris since she became an on-air personality.
She has good reason to not disclose her true identity to the rest of the world, but why wouldn’t she to me?
Or was the thing happening between us something that was going to end as soon as we left this city?
The locker room is full of bodies. Guys are sitting on the benches in front of their lockers reading the game day program; some are doing push-ups, others are in the training room getting their steam treatment and last minute massages as some get their hair trimmed.
Game day jersey’s hang like proud flags indicating those players on the roster, showing that they’ll be playing the game. The showers are on, and horrible singing and laughing comes from the echoes off the walls.
Players get their ankles, wrists, and any other parts of their bodies taped up, put on their pads and pants, then ready to head out onto the field for a pregame walk out on the field to get the lay of the land.
Once everyone is called back into the locker room, our head coach, along with everyone else, bend down to one knee, join hands, and begin the recital of prayer before we head out on the field and the game begins.
MILA
I just arrived at the stadium with nervous energy pulsing through my body. I made sure that all my equipment is charged and ready.
The fans funnel into the stands, the noise-level increases as the pre-game festivities start.
When the starting lineup gets announced, I swallow the lump in my throat knowing that Topher is on the sidelines. I avoid looking for him, but I know that once I let my guard down, I will.
My earpiece has a lot of chatter in it from the producers. I’m asked to interview a player from each
team and I choose my brother, of course, from LA to interview first. They announce the first interview question in my earpiece and I turn to my brother.
“Randy Harris, how are you feeling about today’s game?” I ask.
“Well, I think I’m a little bit of nerves, a bit of anxiety, and then the rest optimistic.” He smiles.
“As the teams quarterback, you have to make sure that you’re in prime shape to remain in the full game. How is it that you make sure that happens for a game this important?”
“Well, I like to make sure that I train properly and know not to push myself too far.”
“Do you have a special routine or superstition that you do before you took the field today?”
“Well, the night before—and I’ve done this for as long as I can remember is that I take a melatonin, valerian root, and a multi-vitamin and I sleep holding a football. Kind of how a kid would hold a stuffy or something, I just hold a football.”
“And does it do something special for you?” I ask, knowing the answer.
“I feel like through my sleep, I become one with the ball. As cheesy as that sounds, it’s helped me win some pretty important games in my career from peewee to the pros.”
“Well Randy, you play a great game and I don’t want to take up too much of your warm-up time.”
“Can I ask a question?” he prompts.
My heart beats frantically. Please don’t be a douche, please don’t be a douche.
“Let him.” my producer says in my ear.
“Sure.” I say.
“Who are you rooting for today?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat grin.
“Oh,” I playfully push his shoulder, “you know that I don’t choose sides.”
“Not even one team over another?”
“Sorry, Randy. I’m Switzerland.” I wink. All for the camera.
“And good. Find a player for Seattle.” I’m instructed.
I turn off the microphone and lean into my brother.
“You are such a brat, big brother.”
“One of these days, I’ll get you to tell the world that you’re a die-hard LA fan.” He smiles and as he walks backwards back to the benches for his team.
I look around the field and immediately, my eyes land on Topher. He’s got dress pants and a dark navy fleece on. He’s wearing a team beanie and he’s holding a clipboard. His jaw is set tight as he looks my way.
I can’t tell whether or not he’s pissed off. But I was just interviewing my brother, and it’s pretty likely that he saw us interacting.
Chapter 14
TOPHER
The game seems to last forever. We were down in the first half, but once we re-strategized during half-time, our team felt empowered and in the third quarter tied the game. We’re just behind LA by six points.
In the last fifteen seconds of the game, Grant Toolson side-stepped an LA player and ran as fast as the cartoon woodpecker does into the end-zone putting Seattle in the lead at the very last second.
The clock is ticking down; the teams get into formation and our kicker, Davids, kicks the ball. In slow motion and in silence, the sidelines are waiting in anticipation for the ball… to hit the post and go inwards.
I drop my clipboard and I throw my fists in the air. I turn to the players. We embrace one another, screaming in ears as we celebrate a win by one point. The crowd goes wild and confetti falls around the field.
Cameras flash like crazy. The media ambushes the field as champion shirts from the franchise are passed around to the coaches and the players.
Grant Toolson has his new hat on backwards and his shirt strewn over his shoulder as he speaks with a handful of reporters as they throw questions at the player who scored the winning touchdown. Davids is coming up to the rear and then the media is on him. Toolson throws his arm around Davids’s shoulders and the two smile as much as possible as they answer the questions fielded to them.
The celebration of the win goes on as the club's owner raises the game trophy over his head. He passes it to our head coach, and then he holds it while he announces the MVP of the game. More players talk to the media as is required, families are on the field until it’s time to continue the party off of the field.
Players and coaches leave to the locker room where there is champagne popping and a red-colored sports drink awaiting to be spilled over the coach's head before we go back to the hotel.
There’s not much sleep had for most of the team tonight. Luckily, I didn’t attend any of the parties that were happening at clubs downtown. I stayed in; I got all my shit together and ready to fly out tomorrow morning, knowing that I will probably have to drag some guys to the shuttle or try to locate them after partying all night.
Now that the game and all the prep that leads up to the game is over, I can finally relax. But with relaxing, comes thoughts. And those thoughts are about Mila.
What is she doing right now? Did she go out and party too? Or is she in her hotel room, thinking about me?
With that thought, I need to figure out this shit between her and I.
Do we have something, something real, to continue?
I get up from the bed and rummage through my carry-on backpack for a notepad.
After I’ve written my list, as if timed perfectly, a knock sounds on the door. I get up from the bed and look in the peephole.
It’s her.
MILA
Time in Minneapolis has been memorable for several reasons.
And one of them is the reason that I am standing in front of Topher’s door with a bottle of wine.
I’m dressed casually and hoping that he will open the door and take me in his arms. Forgive me because I never told him who I was, when I knew who he was the whole time.
I knock on his room door softly to not draw any attention from any of the adjoining rooms. There’s no answer.
I knock again, look up to the ceiling and silently hope that he will answer.
Still no answer.
Maybe he went out to celebrate with the team? After all, they did just become champions.
I drop my head and turn to head back to the elevator and go down the two floors back to my room.
I shouldn’t feel defeated, but a part of me does. I should acknowledge that he and the rest of the team have worked hard for this win, so I shouldn’t be hurt that’s he’s out. I just wish that I had the option to be celebrating with him.
I left the hotel early in the morning, but before leaving I pushed a note for him under the door of his room.
The flight back to Seattle was long, with one stop in Texas before heading up to the Pacific Northwest.
I’m scared that the other night when Topher came to my room was the last time that I would ever see him.
When I got home, I begged Morgan to come over and when she took one look at me, she engulfed me in a hug, and we went to sit on the couch. As we were sitting on the couch, already elbow deep in ice cream, Morgan turns to me.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, and just want to hang out, but you have to tell me something. Do we like him or do we hate him?”
“We still like him.” I say with a frown.
“Then why are we eating our weight in ice cream and why are you so sad?”
“He found out.”
“From you or from someone else?” Morgan asks.
“I was out with my family, Randy ran into him and brought him to the table to say hi.”
“Oh shit. He was blind-sided.” Morgan gasps.
My doorbell rings and with wide eyes, I look to Morgan.
“Does he know where you live?” She asks in a whisper.
“No. At least not that I know of.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Answer the damn door!”
I take a deep breath before answering and swing the door open to my brother. A six-pack of beer in one hand and a bag in the other.
“Randy, what are you doing here? What are you doing in town?” I ask.
“Well, we
didn’t get a proper chance to say goodbye. And considering the season is over, before I start training again, I thought that I would come and visit my little sister.” He walks in past me and into my kitchen.
Morgan stands up quickly and awkwardly waves to Randy with her free hand.
“Ah hey there, Morgan! Am I interrupting something?” He looks at the ice cream in her hand.
I hesitate on say anything, but Morgan quips in.
“Oh, you know, girls being girls.”
Randy looks at me. “I call bullshit,” he blurts.
“Randy, you’re going to want to sit down.” I say.
Chapter 15
TOPHER
“Hey brother-man!” Randy Harris hollers as soon as I open my door.
I’m stunned that he’s here, not at all expecting any visitors and definitely surprised to see him, since he lives in California. I wasn’t even aware that he knew where I lived. How does he know this?
“Uh, hey man. How’s it going?” I say nervously. “Come on in.” I step aside and then close the door once he’s through.
“Nice little place you got here. Looks like you made out in the divorce.” He says looking around.
My place isn’t too much to show-off. While some in the industry like the big and lavish homes and cars, I wanted to stay practical. I’ve got my house and my truck. I’m not home for half of the year, and my tastes are simple. I have two bedrooms with all the upgrades to make me not look like I’m living in an old lady's house.
“I didn’t know you were going to be in town, man,” I say.
“Yeah, well, you know how it is after the season is over,” he shrugs. “I figured that I would hit two birds with one stone here in Seattle.”
“Oh yeah? How do you mean?” I ask playing dumb.
The one person who I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since getting back to town the other night. The woman who I’ve been trying to figure out whether I can forgive. Who also is Randy’s sister. Yeah, there’s a bit of a complication there.
Love on the Sidelines: A Quick Snap Novella Page 6