by B. B. Hamel
I don’t understand. I don’t know who would do something like this…
Unless Sean did it to get back at me.
I clench my jaw.
That fucking asshole. He spread a rumor about sleeping with me, all because I turned him down. And here I am feeling bad about it.
What a bastard. What a cocky asshole bastard.
I want to scream at him, shout in his face. I can’t, though, and I know it. That would ruin my career faster than anything else.
Faster than actually sleeping with him.
That’s what gets me the most. Even when I do the right thing, I still get screwed. If the whole locker room knows about this rumor, that means everyone in the freaking industry is going to know sooner or later. These things never, ever stay secret.
That bastard. I’m going to get so much shit for this.
And I don’t know what to do. I could deny it, but would that change anything? People are going to assume I did it and I’m just trying to cover my tracks or something.
No matter what I say, I’m screwed.
And I never even got screwed.
3
Sean
I’m feeling good after Sunday’s win, so good that I forget all about the problem with Brynn.
I’m riding high on the first victory of the season. It was a close one, but that doesn’t matter. Like Coach says, a win is a win is a win.
So I’m particularly excited to see Brynn on Monday. We have an easy day like usual after a game. I’m a little sore, but nothing I can’t handle. I go through the usual stuff, early morning breakfast, routine team meetings, and a walkthrough practice that doesn’t involve any hitting or strenuous work at all.
Before we break for physical therapy, the stampede opens up and reporters come stomping down toward the field.
I’m not lucky this time. I have to answer questions for ESPN first, followed by a Buzzfeed sports guy that looks just like Dick Cheney. Finally, though, I spot Brynn hanging out on the periphery of everything.
I walk over to her, grinning already. I’m so happy to see her that I forget she rejected me last week.
“Hey there,” I say to her.
“Hey.” She doesn’t look at me.
“You still mad I rejected you last week? I know it stings but I’m willing to give you a second chance.” I grin at her, teasing, baiting a reaction.
And of course I get it. She looks at me, anger clear in her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying. We can go out if you really want.” I’m taken aback by her anger, though. I didn’t expect this, not at all.
“Listen to me, Sean. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but leave me out of it, okay?”
“Game?” I ask softly. “I’m not playing any games.”
She squares up to me, fury clear in her expression. “Felix told me what you said.”
I stand there for a second, not even sure what she’s talking about. It takes me a moment to realize what she means.
“Oh, shit,” I groan.
“Yeah, that’s right. I heard the little rumor you started, asshole.”
“Listen, Brynn, it was just—”
“No, you listen to me. I don’t care about your excuses. Do you know how hard it is for a woman in this industry? Sports journalism is a boy’s club, and you’re only making it fucking worse by telling everyone we slept together.”
She’s talking loudly, really loud, and people are starting to look over. I want to quiet her but I know that’ll only make things worse.
“Brynn, seriously. This is just a misunderstanding.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course it is. I’m sure you go around telling everyone you fucked me as some kind of prank, right? Some stupid joke?”
“No, I never—”
“Save it, asshole. I’m not interested in your excuses.”
I go to argue, but one of her colleagues, a guy named Troy, steps up and takes her arm. “Is everything okay?” he asks her softly.
“I’m fine.” She jerks her arm away, glaring at me. “I was just telling Sean here how he needs to start looking down field more. He’s spending too much time looking for outlet passes, like he’s a coward or something.”
I clench my fists, pushing back the anger. I know she’s just hurt right now. If she’d just let me get a word in, I can explain how it’s a misunderstanding, how I never said I slept with her. Felix and Patrice just assumed, and I was too stupid not to correct them right away.
But just as the thought comes to me, I realize how fucked I am.
By not correcting them, I basically admitted it. I let them think it. Maybe my intentions were pure, I wanted to protect her from Felix, but I realize how dumb that is now.
She’s a big girl. She doesn’t need me to protect her.
Fucking hell.
“Come on,” Troy says to Brynn softly. “Let’s take a walk.”
She takes a sharp breath and spins away from me. I watch her storm away, her ass swaying. I can’t help but stare at it, even though she fucking hates me right now.
“Damn, son,” Patrice says, shaking his head. “You pissed off the old lady. Bad move, man.”
I glare at him. “Fuck off, Patrice.”
His eyes go wide. “What’d I do?”
I shake my head and walk away. A few reporters try and get my attention, but I blow them off.
They’ll all be talking about this for weeks. The rumors are probably already starting. I can just picture them.
Star QB sexually assaults young journalist.
Fucking hell. Fucking Felix. Fucking me.
I don’t know how I got myself into this.
And I don’t know why I still want Brynn so bad.
I leave the field and head down the tunnel, getting away from the crowds. My shoulder’s starting to ache, so I head into the locker room, get changed, and decide to go to physical therapy a little early today.
Leah Wood sits down on a stool and crosses her arms.
“You did what?” she asks.
I sigh and stare down at my hands. Leah is the coach’s wife and the head trainer for the Chainsaws. She’s one of the only people I trust to work with me, since she’s the one that successfully rehabbed me to begin with. I’m not injured right now or anything, but we want to make sure I stay that way, and I think Leah is the only person who’s capable of it.
“I didn’t do anything, which is where I fucked up,” I say. “Felix and Patrice were saying that I slept with her, and I just… didn’t argue.”
She groans. “That’s just as bad as admitting it, you know.”
“I realize that now,” I say.
“Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”
“Felix wanted to get with her, and I just…”
She laughs a little. “You wanted to save her from Felix.”
“Yeah.” I shrug a little, feeling fucking helpless.
If anyone can give me some perspective, it’s Leah. I trust her, to start with. We’ve become actual friends from working together these last couple seasons.
More than that, she had her own romance with Coach Wood. It’s unconventional and problematic since he’s older and her boss, but they got through it and made it work.
Now I could use some of that luck if I’m going to get Brynn talking to me again.
“How into her are you, anyway?”
I laugh a little. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Enough to talk to you about this.”
She grins at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like a girl like this.”
“Like a girl? Come on, it’s not high school.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, it basically is. The NFL is high school with all jocks.”
I grunt. She’s not wrong about that. The NFL is its own little world of cliques, fights and drama. We may play on the biggest stage in the world, but we exist in this tiny little bubble that’s constantly boiling over with fights and other petty bullshit.
Until now, I’
ve managed to keep out of it.
“You know what you need to do,” she says, standing up.
“I can’t,” I say quickly.
“Why?”
“If I come clean, the guys are going to give me so much shit. They need to respect me, Leah.”
“Yeah, probably. But I don’t see how you can come back from this if you don’t come clean.”
I sigh. “I know you’re right.”
“Just tell them the truth and hope Brynn will forgive you.”
“Would you forgive me?”
She hesitates. “No. Probably not.”
I laugh, bitter and annoyed. “You could sugarcoat it for me.”
“Why? You should know she’s probably not going to get over this. I mean, you could find some way to bribe her into spending time with you or something.” She frowns a little bit, musing to herself. “Offer her some kind of deal, like an exclusive on your throwing arm maybe, some kind of interview. I bet she’d love that.”
I stare at Leah for a second. “That’s brilliant.”
“Huh?” She shakes her head. “No, Sean, I was kidding.”
“You’re amazing.” I jump to my feet. “I knew you’d come up with something.”
She sighs. “Seriously, Sean. It’s a bad idea. Don’t bribe her.”
“I’m totally going to bribe her and she’s gonna love it.”
Leah groans. I rush over to her, kiss her on the cheek then leave the training room.
“What about your rehab?” she calls out as I hurry away and I just wave to her.
I know what I have to do. It’s so obvious. I hurry back to the locker room and find my phone.
Fortunately, I have Brynn’s number already. We exchanged early on, when we first met. I thought she was cute and she wanted to do an interview, so I gave her my personal cell. She called once to try and set it up, but things never worked out.
Now, though, it’s going to work out. She’s going to love this.
I call her phone and let it ring. I nervously pace around, waiting as the phone buzzes against my ear.
I know Leah’s right. I know I should just come clean. But I can’t right now. I don’t think Brynn would even believe me if I did anyway. I need to give her a reason to talk to me, to get close to me.
And then… I don’t know. Take what I want. Or maybe give her what she wants.
“Hello?”
Brynn’s voice comes through the line. “It’s Sean,” I say.
She hesitates. “What do you want?”
“Look, I want to apologize for earlier.”
“Oh, yeah?” She still sounds annoyed. “Fine, go ahead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Great.”
“Are you still here?”
“No, I left. I’m on the way home now.”
“I hope that didn’t… you know, cause issues.”
“You mean, you hope my boss isn’t fucking pissed I blew up at the new star QB of our local team?” She groans. “You’re such a dick, Sean.”
“Well, maybe I can help with that.”
“How? What can you possibly do to make this better?”
“An exclusive interview.”
She hesitates. “You give me interviews all the time.”
“About my throwing shoulder.”
Another silence, this time longer. “What about it?”
I grin. “In person.”
“No.”
“You don’t want an exclusive interview about the star local QB? This could make your boss very happy.”
“Damn it, Sean. You’re such a dick, you know that?”
“I know,” I say, laughing. “I’m the worst. Want to do it?”
“Yes,” she says. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good. There’s an Italian place near the practice facility. Meet me there tomorrow night.”
“What’s it called?”
“DeLorenzo’s.”
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
“Good. See you tomorrow, Brynn.”
“Bye, asshole.”
She hangs up the phone.
I’m grinning like a moron as I sit down on the bench.
I’m getting that date. Even if I’m kind of bribing her into coming, she’ll still be there. I’ll have the opportunity to talk to her outside of this bubble, outside of this little world. Maybe I can explain then, get her to realize that I’m not some monster.
Maybe she’ll even forgive me.
But I don’t know. I doubt it. I have to try anyway.
I can’t stop thinking about this girl. If she were anyone else, I would’ve given up by now, moved on. It’s not like there’s any shortage of pussy for an NFL quarterback.
I just don’t want any old fucking pussy. I want Brynn.
And I’m going to have her. I don’t know if she realizes it yet, but I see through her bullshit. I see through her anger.
She wants me just as much as I want her. And she’s going to give me what I need sooner or later.
She hates me now. But I’ll turn that around.
I get up and stroll back to the training room with a smile on my face.
“Back already?” Leah asks, shaking her head. “You did it, didn’t you?”
“Yep,” I say, hopping up on the table. “Tomorrow night, she’s interviewing me about my shoulder.”
“Great,” Leah says. “You’re going to get so much shit from Cole.”
Cole is the head coach, Cole Wood. And she’s definitely right.
“Probably,” I say.
Leah walks over and looks at me appraisingly. “Know what you’re going to say.”
I grin huge. “I was hoping you’d help me with that.”
Leah sighs, but she helps anyway, just like I knew she would.
4
Brynn
I show up at DeLorenzo’s right on time, feeling a nervous ping in my stomach.
I don’t know why I’m here. I already know what I think of Sean, and it’s not good. I don’t need this, not really. I can get by fine without it.
Except I know that’s a lie. In a male-dominated field like this, any edge I can get is an edge I really need.
They all look at me like I’m just some stupid girl. How could I actually know anything about sports? I mean, I’m a girl, after all.
I must be stupid, and on my period.
I’m like the pet they keep around because it’s cute. Nobody actually wants to invest any time in me, much less my editor. They keep me around, send me out, let me write my articles, and sometimes they even tell me that I’m doing a good job.
They pat my head and expect me to wag my tail.
I can ignore most of it. I can ignore the casual sexism, the stupid comments, the patronizing looks, the frustrating explanations when no explanations are necessary. I can get past all that.
But I can’t get past the fact that there doesn’t seem to be any growth in this for me.
In my time with my paper, I’ve had two male colleagues either get raises or promotions. I know this because they fucking brag about it. They make more money, get better assignments, and get better treatment.
Meanwhile, I’ve gotten barely cost of living raises. My assignments suck, and I only ever get published because the players seem to like me and are willing to talk to me.
I’m good at what I do. I know this sport and I know these guys. They like me, they open up to me, they actually talk to me like I’m another human being instead of a member of the much-hated press.
And I’m still stuck as a junior copywriter.
So here I am, going into an interview nobody else in my profession has been able to get. I know it’s with Sean, and he’s a real asshole, but this could be the thing to finally make my editor pay attention to me.
I want to be taken seriously. I want to be given the respect I deserve.
And so I’ll do ten times the amount of work my male counterparts do and earn it.
Sean comes strolling down the street,
only a few minutes late. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down and looks surprisingly good in his casual clothes.
He grins when he spots me, but before he can try and go in for a hug or something, I stick out my hand. “Sean,” I say. “Thanks for meeting me.”
He laughs and shakes my hand, amusement in his eyes. “You’re welcome, Brynn.”
“Should we go in?”
He nods and leads me inside. The hostess’s eyes go wide when she spots him, but she doesn’t say anything. She just grabs some menus and leads us to a corner table, a little secluded from everyone else, clearly the best table in the house.
“Have a nice meal, uh, Sean,” she says, and hurries away.
“She’s a fan,” I comment as he settles into the chair.
“They know me here,” he comments.
“Really?”
“Oh, sure. I come here all the time.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re one of the most famous people in this city.”
“So?”
“So, you can’t just go into some restaurant casually.”
“Why not?”
“Why—you know why not!”
He looks up over his menu at me and frowns a little. “I come here all the time, never had an issue.”
“But, you’re famous.”
He puts down his menu and sips his water. “That’s true,” he says after a second. “But you’d be surprised. Mostly, people are too scared to come up to me.”
“But when they’re not?”
He shrugs. “I’ll sign some autographs, chat a little bit, but they usually leave me alone if I ask them to.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It really is. Look, most people, they just want to meet me so they can tell their friends, you know? People are pretty nice, in general.”
“What about the ones that aren’t?”
He shrugs. “I’m big. They don’t mess with me.”
I laugh again, surprised by this. “Do any of the other players come with you?”
“Nah,” he says. “They’re all too scared.”
“Oh, yeah, of course they are.”
“They get more annoyed about the attention than I do, you know? I figure, the attention is part of the job. So I smile, take pictures, whatever. It makes people happy, so why not?”
