by K. Bromberg
But I know I’m not wrong about Drew. Can’t be. I saw the way he looked at me in Miami. I felt the intention in his kisses. I’ve heard his morning voice through the phone and heard the smile in it. I’ve read and reread our shared texts and know I’m not seeing something that isn’t there. I’m not wishing there to be more when it feels like it’s going there naturally.
All of those things suggest there’s more between us than just sex. Maybe he’s afraid to admit it.
Is that what tonight is all about? Did he realize things were moving too fast and so this was his subtle way of taking a step back and reasserting that this is nothing more than casual dating?
Well, I own the notion that whatever is between us is more. I know it is.
I push myself up from the couch, lick my fingers, and extinguish the first candle’s flame by pinching them together. The sharp sting is a reminder to me that I need to be careful. That I need to be the one taking a step back. Drew canceling on me last minute is the perfect moment to put my head and heart in check. It’s the ideal time to realize he was right—that I was planning ten steps ahead versus letting the moment guide us. It’s fine to acknowledge that I’m falling for the boy I gave my heart on a platter to when we were teenagers. But we’re not kids anymore. We’re adults with lives of our own and problems we haven’t shared.
In fact, from this vantage point, it’s apparent that Drew and I are nothing more than the physical. Sure, I have the lingerie on and a nice dinner planned, but isn’t that just window dressing for a booty call? It’s not like we had a night on the town followed by this. In fact, we never have. Shouldn’t that be more than enough to tell me where things between us stand?
Is that a tough pill to swallow?
I take a drink and nod vigorously. Of course it is.
But I think it’s exactly what I need to force myself to step back and recenter my priorities.
BREXTON
“MAY I ASK WHY YOU’RE advocating for clients who aren’t yours?” Neil Milton, the general manager of the Raptors leans back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him, eyes laser focused on me.
We’ve always had a good rapport. If we didn’t, I never would have approached him in this manner, but the opportunity presented itself when he asked for my opinion on several players and so I just dove headfirst into it. Now it’s sink or swim.
I was right in my assessment of how a GM would respond to my meddling on another player’s behalf. At least I can trust my instincts on this.
What I’m not trusting is why I even brought Hobbs up in the first place when I’m still mad at him for the high-pressure game he pulled when we were in Miami.
And yet Neil asked my opinion and I thought I’d stick a toe in the water with a GM who I have a good rapport with.
“You’re mistaken. I’m not necessarily advocating for them. It’s more along the lines of showing you how the chess pieces would fall if you moved the King.”
He nods as he chews my words over. “But the statement you made about Hobbs—that he wants you—was clear as day.”
“I’m simply being upfront with you about the fact that Hobbs approached me. He said he wants to play in California for reasons I’m not privy to.”
“Why’d he approach you?” Neil asks.
“He said his agent isn’t pursuing the avenue, but that he knew I had connections there and decided to try another means to get traded.” I set my pen down and don’t back down from his stare.
“Yet he’s not your client and you’re still standing before me.”
“I assure you that being caught in the middle of this is the last place I want to be. I’m standing before you because we have a history and a good working relationship. You asked my opinion about players and while I’d rather stay completely out of this, I decided to be honest and let you know what I’ve heard. Talk to your players to validate what I’m saying. See what they say. But Justin is telling everyone he has one foot out the door. His immaturity is showing and his teammates aren’t happy with it. Besides, I have players on this team. The Raptors’ success means their success.” I shrug. “The last thing I want is for you to be caught blindsided in his upcoming contract negotiations if Finn Sanderson decides to act on his client’s wishes.”
“And you expect me to believe that there’s nothing in this for you?”
“Like I said, I do have clients on the team as well as one out in California who would be a good fit here in a trade.”
“A QB?”
I narrow my eyes and shake my head at him. “Why would you need a quarterback when you have a phenomenal one sitting in the wings?”
“Bowman?”
I nod. “Yes, Bowman.”
“Are you representing him now too?” He chuckles.
I shake my head. “No, but I don’t understand why the guy doesn’t get a shot.”
“There are reasons.”
“Like something his dad may have done ten years ago that holds no bearing on his career? You mean those kinds of reasons?”
“This is the moment in the conversation where I tell you you’re starting to step over the line, Brexton.”
I shove up out of my seat and walk to the far end of the conference room, confused and trying hard to keep my personal emotions out of the situation. “Understood, but have you seen him down on the practice field after a game? Have you stopped and watched him in the darkness? It’ll be nine o’clock at night and he’s out there working. His arm is a laser. His stats from when he’s been given a shot are insane. And from what I’ve heard from the guys in passing, he plays simply because he loves the game.”
“And you’ve taken all of this away by watching him practice on the practice field?”
“No. I saw him the one time and then looked him up. I was confused over why he was in the dark instead of under the lights and in front of a crowd of sixty thousand.”
“And what is it you think you found when you researched him?”
“I found the next leader of your team.”
He laughs just to humor me. “Thank you for the advice, but I have plenty of advisors who do that.”
“As you should.” I round the conference room table, sit on its edge, and cross my arms over my chest. “Hobbs is good but still learning. The mistakes he makes are because he’s young, inexperienced, and unwilling to admit that. You can get away with shit like that in college but this is the NFL. You either step up and lead or teams move on. And let’s face it, you’ve lost the last two games because he’s not leading properly. From what I hear, the guys respect Bowman. He’s not flashy and he puts in the work. They respect that.”
Milton taps his pen against the table and scoots his chair back, a surefire sign that this conversation is over and that I’ve overstepped my bounds. “I hear you, but I’m more concerned where this conversation is coming from.”
“It’s coming from an agent who sees a talented player going to waste. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“And you’ve taken it upon yourself to be the advocate for such a player.”
I chuckle, not wanting to be trapped in whatever narrative he’s trying to create here. “No. I see a team with so many working pieces, so much untapped talent, that it’ll be the management who holds them back from a championship, not the players.”
“I’m thinking I should be insulted by that.” He smiles, but I know I’ve pushed my luck enough.
“Not at all.” I stand and start collecting my laptop and put it in my bag. “As usual, I appreciate the time and your attention.”
“As I do your unsolicited advice in regards to clients you don’t represent.”
“We were just shooting the shit, Neil. Not everything is a negotiation.”
His laugh is rich and boisterous as he rises with a shake of his head.
BREXTON
“YOU WERE AT THE RAPTORS’ offices today.” Drew’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone line. My body has a visceral reaction to the sound of it.
&n
bsp; Unfortunately, my heart does too.
“I was. I had a meeting with Neil about some things.”
“You could have dropped me a text. We could have met up afterward.”
“I had another meeting I had to run to right after.”
“I see,” he murmurs and then silence eats the line. “You didn’t return my calls yesterday.”
“Again, busy with work.” I move to the door of my office and close it. It was so hard not to pick up yesterday when he called, so hard not to call him back after he’d asked if he could see me later, but I had to prove to myself that I could take a step back, for my own well-being. “Did everything end up being okay?”
“Okay? What do you mean?” he asks.
“We were supposed to meet up when you got home from your flight. You canceled. Said something came up.”
He sighs heavily and I try not to read into it. “Right. Yes. Sorry. That feels like forever ago already.”
But he says nothing more.
“But everything went well?” I ask, needing to know I wasn’t stood up for something trivial like the guys wanting to hit a bar for some beers. Not that I care if he did, but just not when he’d previously made plans with me.
“As well as things can be.”
“Meaning?”
He chuckles. “Meaning some things are just better left alone, Brexton.” And he silently drives a dagger into my heart.
I’m good enough for him to text yesterday to ask if he can come over, or call me and ask why we can’t meet up, but I’m not good enough for him to open up to.
“Got it.” I nod and hate that I’m hurt by it. But isn’t this what I expected after my epiphany the other night? I feel closer to Drew because of our past, the shared history. I feel like I know him when with anyone else at this stage of the game I would be keeping them more at arm’s length.
And even knowing all this, I have to acknowledge that our time together hasn’t exactly been get to know you. It’s been more along the lines of get to know your body.
So while our chemistry is intensely crazy and I truly like him, right now we’re simply sleeping together.
There’s been nothing more than that.
And I deserve more than that.
“What’s wrong, Brex?” he asks.
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
There’s a shift in the conversation. In the realization that I’m not sitting here waiting for him.
“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go then. I’d love to see you again.”
I hate that those words cause an ache and burn within. A bittersweet one that knows I’ll give in at some point.
“We’ll figure it out.” I fake a smile even though he can’t see it.
It’s a fine line to walk. Not coming off like a bitch—or feeling like I’m being one. I deserve more than being a booty call, being a mousy woman who accepts that this is just sex and never speaks up.
Neither leaves me satisfied completely.
And maybe I just need a few days to figure out if this is what I want.
Then again, I already know the minute I hang up with him, I’ll regret the decision and miss him.
“Hey, Brex? Am I missing something?”
No, it’s what I’m missing that’s the problem.
“What do you mean?” I feign naively.
“You didn’t answer my calls yesterday and now you’re . . . I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Protecting myself.
Guarding my heart.
Taking care of myself for once instead of worrying about everyone else.
Isn’t that enough?
“Look, you’re right I could have texted you, but for what? For you to be embarrassed about being seen with me again?”
He sighs. “Is that what you think? That I’m embarrassed about being with you? Are you out of your mind, Brex? I want to show you off to the fucking world but, this—you and me—is fucking complicated enough without adding in outside pressure.”
I can all but picture him on the other end of the call. His hand running through his hair and the frustration etched in the lines of his gorgeous face.
But I’m suddenly sitting up a little taller as his words hit my ears and I process them. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Is he wanting more but uncertain how to get there?
But why? How? There are so many things I want to say but all of them lower my guard and I can’t do that yet. I can’t let him in more when I still feel like he’s partially pushing me away with this complicated excuse.
So I focus on that. On the one thing we need to figure out that seems to be standing in the way in his eyes. “Why is it complicated? How? I see only you when we’re together, I don’t understand why it’s not the same for you.”
“We have a history.”
“No. Our families have a history. Our dads do. It has nothing to do with us,” I say thinking back to my dad’s comments. About accusations made by a seventeen-year-old Drew, and I wonder what it is that he thinks happened.
“Like I said, complicated,” he murmurs.
“Family’s always complicated. But at the end of the day, there is something here and I’m not willing to get invested in it if I know I’m going to get hurt before I even start.”
“There’s never a guarantee on that.”
“I know but . . .” I pace from one end of the office to the other, frustrated, and fearful that I might lose Drew before we really even find each other again.
“Brexton.” He only says my name but there is so much emotion in it that I know he feels there is something between us too. But he’s scared of something, and I don’t know how to make him not be. “I’m not embarrassed by you,” he whispers.
“I was upset when you canceled on me the other night. I know you had an emergency but it feels like you want me in some areas of your life and not others, and that’s hard for me when I feel like mine is an open book. I mean, I get it, we’ve only just reconnected after years. But to me, there’s a different level of closeness because we did know each other years ago. We were friends. Are friends.”
“So you’ve told your family that we’re seeing each other then?” Not a chance. I hesitate and he knows why. “You haven’t, have you?”
And he’s got me. What I’m judging him on, I’m doing the same thing.
“I haven’t, no,” I admit.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know why I’m afraid to. It’s almost like I fear that if I do, they’ll make fun of me for falling so fast for you.”
“Which leads me back to that first night at my house when I said we don’t talk about the past.”
“But the past is who we are, Drew. The past made us and brought us to this point in time . . .” I make a strangled cry that doesn’t make me feel any better.
“See? Complicated.”
“It is, but in the same breath it’s simple. We have our own lives to live. That—the past, our history, our dads—don’t get to own us. Dating someone is hard enough and then dating someone who cancels dates on you at the last minute but doesn’t explain why is worse. It makes me feel like I’m simply another willing body to you, like I’m inconsequential, and frankly, I deserve more than that.” I’m twenty-six years old. I want more than that.
“You do, Brexton.” He clears his throat and sighs. “You deserve so much more.”
“So can you understand that I’m not ignoring you? It’s more that I just need to figure things out.”
Like how I’m already head over heels for you, Drew Bowman, when every part of me is telling me that it’s too soon. That I need to find my equilibrium before I’m so off-kilter I get hurt.
I know there are no guarantees in love. Love? Christ. That thought in and of itself is justification on why I need to pull the reins in just a little. Why I need to make sure we’re both in this together and wanting the same things out of it.
DREW
THEY’LL MAKE FUN OF ME for falling so fast for you.
Did she not realize she’d said them?
Were they a slip of subconscious?
But she did say them and they’re out in the open. Now I know where she stands—thank fuck for that. I thought I was being a tad crazy over here feeling the same about her.
How does shit like this happen?
How do you meet someone in your teens, reconnect with them later in life, and just fucking know it was meant to be?
Meant to be? Motherfucker.
How is that possible? Why am I thinking along these lines? And, how do I accept that when I’ve never been one to think like this before?
It’s been football. It’s been family. It’s been surviving.
And now it’s fucking her.
Brexton Kincade.
And somehow, I need to make it right again.
I slow my pace at the light and jog in place, waiting for the pedestrian sign to change and traffic to stop.
She thinks I’m embarrassed about her. That’s hilarious.
Doesn’t she realize I lose my fucking mind every time one of the guys makes a comment about her? About the shit they’d love to do to her? Doesn’t she know I’d love to let everyone know she’s mine?
Because she is mine.
Hasn’t she been in some way or another since that first kiss in the Keys?
It’s almost as if seeing her again, being with her again, confirmed something I hadn’t realized I’d been looking for. Brex’s tenacity. Her energy. Her passion for what’s right even when everyone else disagrees. Her dry wit, which so many don’t understand, and the way she snorts when she laughs too hard. It’s damn adorable.
I forgot about her kindness and compassion to anyone and everyone even when they don’t deserve it. And I definitely didn’t deserve it when we were younger, and yet she gave grace to me anyway. But now that I’ve seen her, spent time with her, I remember.
Then there’s the obvious. Her looks. Her beauty. The surface that everyone can see when they don’t have a clue about the shy girl she used to be. How did that girl turn into this incredible woman? The one with such a natural, sexy-as-fuck confidence?
