Out of Play: A Sports Romance (Love in the Arena Book 2)

by Tirrell, Kayla

  Riley got up from his seat and grabbed the canister of sanitizing wipes from her desk and went to the far end of the room. Once he did, Em pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to his mom to let her know where her son was.

  Notifications from Instagram flashed on her screen. It had been fun to look at Grant’s pictures earlier, but now she just felt guilty for doing that. It felt wrong to enjoy herself when there was so much pain in the world. She just wanted to go around and fix it.

  Frida had warned her time and time again that she would burn out if she wasn’t careful. She’d told Em that she needed to put a wall between herself and her kids. Not a stone wall that didn’t allow for meaningful connections, but Em needed to be able to separate herself from the constant onslaught of emotions that came with teaching so that she could recharge and be the very best teacher for these kids.

  Em knew that Frida was right. She couldn’t fix everything and everyone.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make every effort to be the best teacher she could be. That started with getting rid of unnecessary distractions. She swiped the notifications left to delete them and started cleaning with Riley.

  Grant

  Grant pulled his shirt off over his head and wiped his face.

  He never thought body weight exercises could be so tough, but Finn had a way of pushing everyone when it came to agility training. They’d been going at it for an hour at Big Results, the gym where the players all went. Grant’s muscles were beginning to feel like Jell-O, and he was sure he’d lost half his body weight in sweat.

  But he still wasn’t done. He still needed to post something online to build up his online presence.

  He really wished he would have taken some videos of his workouts before he was as sweaty—and tired—as he was, but he’d shown up to practice late and didn’t want to ask anyone to stop what they were doing to record him.

  Grant grabbed a fresh shirt from his gym bag and put it on before he scanned the room for someone who might help. Some of the other players had already left, while others were still running through drills. Finally, his eyes landed on his mark.

  “Hey, Cardosa,” he called out. The offensive player was sitting in the corner mixing a post-workout shake that was meant to build muscles. “Will you come help me with something real quick?”

  “Sure thing.” Cardosa hopped up from his spot and walked over, his drink in hand. “You want me to record you doing a workout?”

  Grant rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Was he that predictable?

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Silas has nagged every single player about ‘building an online presence.’ I’m pretty sure we’ve all tried it at some point. Just tell me what you need.”

  “Thanks.” Grant smiled as he scouted out a place to set up. “Let’s go over there.”

  Cardosa followed him to a side of the room without any other players. When he was ready, he signaled to Cardosa to start recording. Giving it everything he had, Grant ran through some drills. Jumping jacks, squats, push-ups, lunges, sit-ups, and finally burpees. By the end, he was nauseated, but he’d done it and somehow managed to maintain proper form in the process.

  He grabbed a towel and wiped his face once more before he looked over to Cardosa.

  His teammate grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to hit record.”

  Now Grant really did think he was going to throw up. It was only one workout, but he’d pushed himself hard. He hoped it would gain more followers, and that somehow Em would see it and be impressed.

  Cardosa started laughing. “Oh, man. Your reaction was priceless.”

  Grant threw his sweaty towel at him. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s pretty funny,” Silas said walking over. “It doesn’t matter how many times Cardosa pulls that stunt, I laugh every time.”

  Grant stalked over to Cardosa and grabbed his phone out of his hand. “And here I was feeling special.”

  “Like I said, Silas pushes everyone to post their workouts. Since I refuse to do it, I get my kicks at everyone else’s expense.”

  “You handled it much better than some of the other guys.” Silas slapped Grant’s back.

  “They all know better now, so I haven’t done it in a while.” Cardosa’s eyes quickly went to the defender and back to Grant. “And I refuse to mess with Vinny.”

  Silas wrapped an arm around Cardosa. “That’s because you’re a lover, not a fighter, aren’t you?”

  Cardosa stepped out of Silas’ reach. “If you keep insisting on hugging me, I might make an exception.” Silas laughed it off.

  Watching their playful fight was much better than seeing what would happen if Cardosa had decided to prank Vinny instead. “The Box” surely would have thrown a sucker punch that would put the whole team in a mood. He had a bad attitude, and Grant was convinced that if Vinny wasn’t such a good player, no one would put up with his crap.

  “Seriously, though. You’re doing a great job of building your brand.”

  Cardosa snickered beside him.

  Silas shot him a look. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just upset he’s not as good as me.”

  “Your overinflated opinion of yourself never ceases to amaze.” Cardosa chuckled and grabbed his stuff. “Grant, you need anything else?”

  When he shook his head, Cardosa walked off.

  “You’re putting the work in at every practice, and everyone can see that,” Silas said. “We’re lucky to have you on the team.”

  Grant filled with pride at the compliment. He and Silas hadn’t started the season on the best terms—Grant had thought Silas was trying to sabotage the rest of the players when in reality he was just trying to get his ex to fall back in love with him.

  Now that things were cleared up, he saw Silas as a bit of a mentor. The veteran player had been in the league for five years and was one of the top scorers on the team. Though they played different positions, Grant looked to him for advice.

  “Thanks, man.”

  Silas pointed to the phone in Grant’s hand. “Don’t forget to post that. You want to post often and try to get engagement. That’s how you get companies to notice you. Once they do, they’ll start sending you free stuff. If they like what you do with it, they’ll start paying you.”

  “Like Protein Life?”

  “Exactly.” Silas nodded. “Thanks to them signing me on as a featured athlete, I have multiple income streams. If anything were to happen and I couldn’t play anymore, they’d help keep food on the table while I found something else.”

  Having another source of income sounded amazing. As a rookie, his pay barely covered the bills. He could start delivering pizza part-time or pick up some day labor shifts working in construction—a lot of the players admitted to doing that their first year. Using his business degree would definitely help him financially, but Grant wanted to focus on the sport and almost any job in that field would take way more time than a delivery route.

  If he followed Silas’ advice and built a brand around soccer and his workouts, he’d be able to have some extra cash for doing what he loved.

  He sat down on a bench and watched the video Cardosa had taken of him running through his workout. He looked good despite wanting to throw up the entire time from pushing so hard.

  Grant knew he’d get a lot of likes, so he pulled up Instagram on his phone. Silas insisted it was the best platform for attracting fitness companies. He posted the video and, because he couldn’t help himself, he pulled up Frida Hall’s account.

  At first, Grant hadn’t given her a second thought. He gained followers everyday thanks to Silas’ advice. But when she liked several of his posts all at once, he’d visited her profile. After a quick glance at her pictures, he was glad he had. Frida Hall was friends with Emmeline O’Brien. He knew that because she was in about half of Frida’s posts, smiling brightly in each of them.

  She was just as gorgeous as he remembered.

  Was she talking about him to Frida? He had to imagin
e she was since Frida had started following him only days after he and Em had met at City Bar. Until now, Grant had been too afraid to request to follow her private account, not wanting to look like a crazy stalker.

  But after posting his workout—which had already gained a lot of views and likes—he felt bold. He hit request and waited. It wasn’t like following her on Instagram was trying to date her.

  When he went back to Frida’s profile and looked at Emmeline’s smile, however, he wondered if he’d ever be satisfied with just being her friend.

  Emmeline

  “How’s Grant’s Instagram looking today?” Frida asked Emmeline softly.

  The two of them were sitting in the back of the auditorium as the school’s principal held an assembly about fundraising. The entire school would sell candy bars to earn money for special programs—like art supplies for Frida’s class.

  Em turned her screen off and put her phone in her pocket. She kept her eyes trained on the stage. “I-I wasn’t looking at Instagram. I was responding to a parent’s email.”

  That was a boldfaced lie. Em had been looking at a picture of Grant that showed off the tattoos on his left arm. Thankfully, the darkness of the room hid the way she’d been drooling over it. What was it about boys and ink?

  She’d tried not to look at it very often, but once he’d requested to follow her account, it was like the dam burst. She’d followed him back and scrolled down through all his old posts. They were mostly about workouts—which wasn’t necessarily bad.

  But when she went back even further, she found pre-Storm Grant.

  She liked pre-Storm Grant for a host of reasons that didn’t involve his muscles or his tattoos.

  For one, family was important to him. There were quite a few pictures of him with his parents, his sister, and his nieces in his hometown of Kansas City. He never looked embarrassed to have his arm over his mom’s shoulder when they posed for the camera, and the smile on his face when he was with his nieces was sweet and genuine.

  Then there was his time in college. She loved seeing his personality in his posts about studying for finals, wandering around downtown Macon, and hanging out with his college friends.

  Not only that, his older posts were cheesy. He had a tendency to use puns and dad jokes as his captions, and Em enjoyed seeing that part of him. The part of Grant that wasn’t so...athletic.

  Like when he’d dressed up like Dwight from the office the previous Halloween. His caption read: Is it bad that I actually like Battlestar Galactica?

  It was one of her all-time favorite shows, and she’d never known another person to feel the same way about it. Sure, Frida had given it a gallant effort but stopped after six episodes. She’d binge-watched the remaining seventy by herself—sometimes forgetting to sleep.

  She couldn’t believe Mr. Soccer really enjoyed it, so she’d tested him and commented: Prove it.

  Five minutes later, he’d sent her a DM with the names of the Final Five Cylons—in the order they were revealed.

  After that, Em knew she was in trouble. She didn’t send anymore DMs, too afraid to get to know him better, but she enjoyed looking every day to see if he posted something new. And every time she posted, she felt a thrill waiting for him to like it.

  “What did they want?” Frida asked.

  Em looked over. “Huh?”

  “The parents you were just emailing. What did they want?”

  Her face burned. “Oh, to schedule a conference.”

  “A conference. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Frida leaned in close and whispered, “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a little one-on-one time with Grant.”

  “I wasn’t…” Em leaned back in the hard, plastic chair. “Fine, I was looking at his Instagram. Happy?”

  Frida shook her head causing her dark curls to bounce. “I’d be a lot happier if you didn’t feel the need to hide it from me. You act like I don’t see the way you’re both treating the app like it’s Match.com.”

  Em sat up and looked around to see if any of the other teachers had heard Frida. Her best friend teasing her was one thing, but Em didn’t want her coworkers to overhear them talk about a dating site—especially since she wasn’t on one. She narrowed her eyes at Frida.

  “I follow you both. I see the way you like each other’s posts.” Frida paused. “And the way you’ve gone from posting once a week to every day.”

  “I can’t help that I’ve recently discovered my love of selfies.”

  Frida snorted. “You don’t have to explain it to me, you know. You’re allowed to have a crush.”

  Em really wished everyone would stop using that word. What was going on between her and Grant wasn’t a crush. It was more like low-key flirting. Something just between them. They didn’t have to acknowledge anything was happening—because nothing was—but it was nice to know that there was a guy out there who thought about her every once in a while.

  “So, I was thinking about coming to the game tonight,” Frida said, changing the subject.

  “You are?” Her eyes went back up to the stage as their principal started listing the prizes for the top sellers. The kids all cheered loudly. When they quieted down, she turned in her seat toward Frida. “You’re not going to say anything to Grant, are you?”

  “I told you I wasn’t going to embarrass you. I just feel like getting out today, and I know Finn gets free tickets.”

  All the players did. They got a couple box seats and then a few general admission tickets. “I can ask if Finn gave all his tickets away.”

  “Awesome. Since I don’t have any Storm shirts, should we make homemade Grant jerseys? You know I’ve got all kinds of supplies at my house.” Frida laughed loudly enough to get the attention of a nearby teacher.

  Em gave them an apologetic smile for the disruption, before she glared at her friend. “Don’t you dare.”

  She pouted. “Come on. You know I like any excuse to get dressed up.”

  It was true, all part of Frida’s creative nature. “If I lend you one of Finn’s jerseys, will you promise not to make a Grant shirt?”

  “Of course. But I want the one you just won.”

  Em had spent a fortune on it and only worn it once. But lending it to Frida was a much better option than Frida wearing one with Vaughn on the back. She sighed. “Fine. I’ll bring it when I pick you up.”

  “I didn’t know this was the O’Brien cheering section,” Miriam said as Frida and Em found their seats beside her, both wearing Finn’s jerseys.

  While Em wore an old one loose over her denim shorts for an easy casual look, Frida had taken a more creative approach to wearing hers. She tied the one-of-a-kind jersey at the waist and wore a black miniskirt that showed off her killer legs. The ensemble was topped off with homemade soccer earrings that dangled from her ears.

  She looked like a sporty version of Ms. Frizzle without the bright, orange hair.

  Being next to the boards, they were sure to be in a lot of the live footage of the game and, as Miriam pointed out, they looked like a bunch of fangirls.

  Though being accused of being part of her brother’s cheering section was better than talking about her “crush” on Grant. Since Em would be sitting between the two women who had accused her of having a thing for Grant, she would gladly take the alternative.

  She smiled at Miriam. “Maybe he’s feeling left out after seeing the way you fawn all over Silas.”

  Miriam rolled her eyes. “Like I’m fawning over him. Silas has enough adoring fans that I don’t need to feed his ego anymore.”

  Em lifted a brow.

  “Exhibit A is sitting two rows behind me. Dark hair, Storm jersey, gorgeous. Even after Silas told her nothing was going to happen between them, she comes to all the games and screams his name the entire time.”

  Em made a show of reaching her arms above her head and spinning in both directions like she was stretching her back. When she turned around, she let her gaze go up to the stands behind them. Two rows up was a
girl matching Miriam’s description—though she wasn’t nearly as pretty as Miriam had implied. “Does it bother you?”

  Miriam shrugged. “It used to, but Silas made it obvious that he doesn’t care about anyone else but me. It gets a little awkward at Storm events, but it’s mostly just funny now.”

  That was good. Em was happy that Miriam was able to trust Silas after everything that had happened between them. She wondered what it must be like to be hurt so badly and forgive someone—more than that, love them.

  Just then, the lights dimmed. The game was about to start.

  The announcer called out the names of the Washington Orcas. There were a few scattered fans in the stands who’d made the trek to Florida to cheer on their team, but their clapping was barely audible. Em always felt bad for the visiting team. Not only were they fighting against the home field advantage, there were so few people cheering for them.

  She started clapping as the rest of the Orcas ran onto the field. This earned her puzzling looks from both Miriam and Frida.

  She shrugged. “What? I feel bad for them. Finn has told me how hard it is to be the visitor.”

  “Bleeding heart.” Miriam bumped her shoulder. “As long as you cheer louder for the Storm.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously.”

  Spotlights started moving across the stands. “Let’s get ready to welcome your Florida Storm!”

  The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, and Em snuck another glance back at Silas’ super fan. She was jumping up and down and yelling through cupped hands.

  “You really weren’t kidding about that girl,” she said to Miriam.

  She gave Em a sly smile. “Just wait until he scores a goal.”

  Em giggled and turned her attention back to the field where Storm players were called out one by one. She clapped and cheered for each one as they joined their teammates at midfield.

  “Now for your starting lineup. Team captain and keeper, number one, Finn O’Brien!”