by Nikki Wild
“Hold on! Who are you shooting for tonight? Where’s your press pass?” the coach shouted, snapping me out of my trip down memory lane.
“I forgot it in my car.”
“Sure you did,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re one of those damn bloggers, aren’t you? Don’t even have press credentials, I bet.”
“You can come out to my car and see my ID.”
“I don’t have time for that. Just tell me who you’re with.”
We stared at each other as the noise from the crowd raised to a fever pitch.
“The Cleveland Press.”
An assistant coach walked over to us.
“What do you want us to do?” he shouted over the crowd.
“I’ll deal with you later,” Coach Harris said then turned to the other man. “Let’s win this fucking game.”
As he stormed off I got out my phone with my hands still shaking. My boss was the last person I wanted to talk to, but I needed to call him. As the phone rang I quickly glanced through the photos on my camera, hoping I had a decent shot. It helps to have a little good news to offer up before shit starts hitting the fan.
The first few photos were all shit. The others were even worse.
Crap, crap, crap.
Scott picked up the phone as the game continued behind me.
“Newsroom. This is Scott.”
“Hey, boss, it’s me.”
“Yeah, Haley. What is it? I’m busy.”
I took a deep breath and pushed my irritation away.
“I think I missed the shot,” I said, hoping like hell Scott would just let me leave now.
“That’s not what I just say,” he said. “Charlie has the game on and he says Toby Jenkins just about took your damn head off. Is that true?”
“Not technically.”
“That’s not what I want to hear. Technically you’d better have a damn good picture of Mr. Jenkins flat on his ass!”
“Unless you’re looking for a blurry picture of Toby’s leg, I’ve got nothing.”
“Look, Haley. You’re a great woman, but I need team-players who will get the photos needed to make this newspaper money. Do you understand that? You’re not in college anymore, sweetheart. This is the real world and the whole damn paper is going to find itself up shit creek if my photo journalists can’t get the fucking shots we need.”
I cringed at his use of the word sweetheart, but I didn’t dare say anything to him.
“Are you still here?”
“I’m here,” I said. “I’ll get you something fit to print. The game’s not over yet…”
“Toby’s out of the game and he’s the one I want on the cover. Go to the locker room and get an exclusive with a bandage on his damn ankle.”
“Okay.”
“And Haley?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t bother coming back unless you have a photo that will knock my socks off.”
“Ok boss. I’ll be back after the game.”
He ended the call without saying goodbye.
I continued down the sideline toward the locker rooms as drums beat and the pert and perfect cheerleaders worked to get the crowd excited for the next play.
With or without Toby Jenkins, the show must go on.
At the entrance to the home team locker rooms, a security guard looked at me lazily as I held my expensive camera and lens in the air and flashed a drivers license, hoping he’d mistake it for a press credential. He didn’t bat an eye as I walked confidently past him. The sounds of the crowd faded as I made my way down the concrete hallway. There was only one question in my mind as I approached the pair of double doors at the far end of the tunnel.
What the hell am I going to say to Toby?
With my job on the line, I opened the door and went inside the Browns’ locker room. Two long, wooden benches ran the length of the room in front of steel lockers with the team’s logo on each one.
There was no one in sight.
I took a few hesitant steps, my heart beating faster. This was the part I hated about being a journalist. Being good at my job means seeking trouble and pushing the limits. It means getting yourself into situations you really don’t want to be in.
And seeing Toby again was definitely one of those situations.
I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this…
As I crept forward, my Nikon hanging from a strap around my neck, I heard the sound of water running… and there was something else.
Singing.
I couldn’t help but smile as I heard his familiar voice ringing out.
With a few more steps, I reached the end of the locker room. Steam and song billowed out of a concrete doorway. I smiled as I listened to an off-key rendition of Blaze of Glory by Bon Jovi.
This is so wrong. I need to go. Scott’s not going to fire me and Toby is the last person I want to see again. Nobody had ever broken my heart like that and I don’t want to open up any old wounds.
My smile faded as I frowned and turned to creep toward the exit. The singing and sounds of water stopped, causing me to move a little faster.
“Haley?” a male voice barked.
I stopped in my tracks, wondering if I should run or spin around and face him.
“What are you doing in here?”
“It’s fine,” I said, turning. “I’m a reporter.”
When I saw him – wet and naked with his hands on his hips – I almost fainted. He’d grown since the last time I’d seen him, but the huge shaft swinging between his thighs was just as impressive as I remembered it.
Don’t look. Turn away. Look him in the eyes!
My eyes shot up to his face, crashing into his familiar crystal blue eyes as my cheeks went flush with embarrassment.
“A reporter?” he asked softly.
Images of the past rushed over me, I could remember how his fingertips made my flesh come alive with every tiny little touch. I swallowed hard as he closed the distance between us.
“I… uh… take photos, for the paper. I’m a reporter…”
Why am I not making sense?!
“Uh huh,” he said, nodding his head. “You said that already. But Haley, why are you here?”
“Look, Toby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come, but my boss made me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here at all, and I certainly shouldn’t have followed you…in here,” I said, gesturing to the empty locker room.
“Your boss sent you in here to take naked photographs of me? What the hell kind of newspaper do you work for?”
Our eyes locked. My heart pounded. I felt faint.
“Not that kind. I’m with The Cleveland Press,” I replied.
“Did you at least get any good shots?” he asked.
My frown deepened.
“Not yet,” I mumbled.
He nodded, staring me up and down. I would have probably done the same if he wasn’t so fucking naked, but I didn’t dare let my gaze fall again. I knew what was there. I’d seen him naked a thousand times. I was almost afraid of what would happen if I looked.
Just being in his presence was bad enough. Here I was, reunited with Toby in a way I never in a million years would have imagined it would play out.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my eyes flashing, my head lost in the past. He was the one who broke my heart. I was the one who should be angry. For a moment, I stood there completely vulnerable under his accusing gaze.
“The pictures,” he replied.
“Oh, right,” I said, shaking my head, trying to bring myself back into reality. This wasn’t high school and my heart had plenty of time to heal. I was a grown woman and this big naked man held no pull over me anymore.
“I’m not happy. My boss is a dick. I need to come back with a photo or he’s swinging the axe. I came back here to get a shot of you hobbling around on crutches or something. Trust me, you’re the last person I want to see.”
“So you did come back here
to get a shot of me like this? You’re admitting it?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to come out waving that thing around.”
I accidentally glanced down again. I could swear it was even bigger than I remembered…
He cleared his throat.
Oh shit! Look up!
As I lifted my head, my gaze trailed over his body and I marveled at his perfect physique. Everything about him was bigger, more muscular, more masculine. My breath caught in my throat as I met his gaze again. He stared down at me with a daring, mischievous grin.
“Did you miss me?” he asked with a grin.
“No,” I snapped.
“Well, stop staring then. Or take a photo. It will last longer.”
Defiantly, I lifted my camera.
“Hey! I was just kidding,” he said, arching an eyebrow. I turned away, hating the effect he had on me. I’d gotten over him a long time ago, and I wasn’t about to swoon like a little school girl. I was sure I could handle this assignment with complete professionalism, but I wasn’t counting on catching Toby Jenkins with his pants down.
He took a step to the side and grabbed a white towel. I stared into his eyes again as he wrapped it around his waist, holding it closed with his right hand.
“It was nice to see you, Haley. But you really should go now,” he said, pointing to the door.
“I need a photo first. Tape up your ankle for me. It’ll look good on the sports section and you’ll be a hero when you come strutting out onto the field next week. ‘Toby Jenkins takes the field despite his injury’. The crowd will eat it up. I think you owe me that much, and besides, if I don’t come back with a good picture I might lose my job” I protested.
“No photo for you,” he said. “If you take one back here, you won’t have a job to lose in the first place.”
My heart sank. I lowered the camera, feeling the heavy weight of it through the strap around my neck. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the door. Maybe there was still time to get a decent shot or two back on the field. To hell with Toby Jenkins.
As soon as I got through the door, I slammed it and ran back toward the field. My footsteps echoed off the walls as I ran, holding the camera so it wouldn’t swing back and forth. I emerged from the dark corridor to the sound of thunderous cheers.
Fuck!
A quick glance at the scoreboard told me everything I needed to know. With Toby out of the game the entire momentum on the field shifted. I’d just missed my chance to shoot the comeback of the year. A receiver danced at the far end of the field as my eyes washed over the row of photographers capturing the moment.
I turned away from the roaring crowd. To hell with this game and to hell with the front page. My only thought was to get away as fast as I could. I’d spent years trying to get Toby Jenkins out of my head. Why did I ever think I could come here?
I’d just have to face the music at work and deal with Scott’s anger. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Images of Toby ran through my head as I drove back to the office. Part of me wished we’d met again under better circumstances, maybe we’d have had a chance to talk things out. For now, all of my questions remained unanswered.
Ten years ago he’d broken up with me so abruptly that I’d have given anything to get an explanation from him. Nothing made sense back then, and he’d refused to talk me about it. I’d slowly come to accept it and moved on.
Seeing him again brought all of those feelings rushing back full force. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and I could barely breathe.
I sat in my car for a full half-hour before driving back toward the office, but not before making myself a hard promise: I’d never go anywhere near Toby Jenkins again, even if it cost me a job.
Two
Toby
When Haley ran out of the locker room, I knew I’d made a mistake.
I put it out of my mind as I got dressed. The pain in my ankle had already started to fade. Alternating hot and cold packs on it had reduced the swelling significantly.
Dressed in loose fitting jeans and a grey Brown’s sweatshirt, I made my way back out on the field.
Coach Harris walked over with a scowl on his face. The wind had whipped his long stringy hair all over the place. He looked like a homeless man just scraped off the street.
Just the way he likes it…
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Just letting you know I’m fine.”
“You’ll hurt that ankle. Get home and stay the hell off it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yes, Coach.”
I looked up at the rapidly emptying stadium. I didn’t have to ask what happened while I was downstairs. When the home team wins the party goes all night. When things don’t go your way, people are quick to get the hell out of dodge.
We lost. The evidence was written in the stands.
“What the hell are you still doing out here?” he yelled when he saw me.
“That photographer…”
“The bitch who damn near broke your ankle and cost us the game? What about her?”
“You’re not going to get her in trouble, are you?”
“That depends on how you’re feeling tomorrow. Now get the fuck home and rest before I have somebody cart your ass off the field.”
“Will do, Coach.”
He stormed over to the assistant coach. I glanced at a few of the players on the bench and could see their heads hanging low.
When I arrived at the private parking lot, I carefully walked to my forest green Maserati shining on the opposite side of the small lot. It wasn’t the most expensive car down here, but I loved it all the same. A smile spread over my face as I slipped behind the steering wheel and tapped a button to start up the engine.
My phone rang as I pulled out of my parking spot. I glanced at the screen mounted in the dash and saw my ex-wife’s name.
“Ignore call,” I said. “Pandora on.”
The car obeyed my will, taking me far from the city. I let some classic jazz fill the car as visions of Haley danced through my head.
Breaking up with her was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I couldn’t even bring myself to do it in person. After what I’d overheard her saying to Billy, there was nothing left but anger and pain.
But that was a long time ago… and looking back, maybe I owed her more than a shitty text message. I could have given her a chance to explain…
It was too late then, and it was too late now.
But… maybe I was wrong. She came to the game. She had to know I might recognize her.
Did that change things? Probably not, considering the way I’d acted down in the locker rooms.
Hell, she was probably married to Billy and had two and a half kids running around by now. I should have checked to see if she was wearing a ring…
I turned up the music and hit the gas pedal, going fast enough that I had no choice but to push her memory away and concentrate fully on the road.
Back at my house, I pressed my palm against a glass plate next to the door. It clicked, then opened on its own. I loved all the modern conveniences money afforded me.
“Welcome home, Toby,” came a soft robotic voice from the table. Alexa was the little gadget that ran my smart house, but on nights like this, she made me feel a little less alone.
“Hey, Alexa. I need you to do something for me.”
“Of course, Toby. What can I do?”
“Search the internet for any photos taken by Haley Harrison and send them to my laptop.”
“I’m working on that now, Toby. Is there anything else?”
“That’s all for now, Alexa. Thank you.”
I knew the artificial intelligence would struggle with my request, but that wasn’t going to be a problem. I’d paid an unreasonable amount of money for the highest tier of customized service. Somewhere in India, my voice would be playing into a headset and a whole team of people would be working hard to find pict
ures from Haley Harrison as quickly as they could type.
I walked into the living room and slumped onto the comfortable Italian leather couch. I’d bought it after my divorce. Jessica hated leather.
Jessica and I had met my Sophomore year at Ohio State. I was still in pain after breaking up with Haley and Jessica managed to weave her way inside my life. I guess I was desperate to let someone in, even if Haley was on my mind every single fucking day.
Jessica stuck with me through college, but by the time I got my first pro position, she’d changed.
Or, maybe I finally started seeing her clearly.
It was the little things at first. Demands for thousand dollar purses and shoes that cost more than my first car. I had endorsements rolling in and I didn’t think twice about buying her nice things, but the price tag kept right on growing. My teammates were quick to point out that she was a gold digger, but I didn’t want to believe it. When I finally tried to cut back on some of the spending, she hit me with divorce papers so fast it made my head spin.
It was never about love to her. She saw me as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she took full advantage.
I guess I should have seen it coming.
“Television on,” I said ignoring the twinge of pain that shot from my ankle. It used to feel strange to walk into an empty house, but I’d grown to love the solitude. It made life a hell of a lot easier.
“ESPN.”
The giant curved flat screen came to life, showing a sports anchor – Terrance Henderson – talking about the game. I listened as he began talking about my sub-par performance. They had shots of me walking back out after the game, and there were questions about whether or not I should have been pulled off the field in the first place.
“Your photos are ready now, Toby,” Alexa said in a pleasant voice.
“Thank you,” I replied.
Haley’s face flashed in my mind, and there was a familiar stirring deep inside of me. I’d felt it when I saw her crouched on the sidelines like a deer blinded by headlights. I’d felt it again when I’d stepped out of the shower and come face to face with the girl who got away…
I placed a pillow on the bamboo coffee table I’d picked up in Peru. After grabbing my laptop, I relaxed and lifted my leg, elevating it to relieve the swelling. The coach was right, I needed to rest. The last thing I needed was a season-ending injury. My contract was coming up for renewal and missing a few games could make me a liability.
