by Lindsay Becs
“Yes, I’m sure. Again, I’m so sorry.” I continue to apologize.
Just then, Bianca makes her way to us. “Holy shit, are you alright?” she asks with a concerned laugh.
“Just another day in the life,” I tell her.
Looking back to Mr. Muscles, I thank him for catching me, then tug on the dogs to leave. Of course, they aren’t done embarrassing me for the day though. Nope. They each go in a different direction around our feet, pulling me against the wall of muscle again.
Trying to keep my distance and not touch him in ways I shouldn’t, I just put my arms in the air and yell, “I don’t know what to do with my hands!”
“Are you jacked up on Mountain Dew too?” Mr. Muscles asks me, and I’m so thankful he understands my weird sense of humor in this moment of utter awkwardness. We both just start laughing, while Bianca stares at us like we just lost our minds.
Untangling ourselves from these dogs that are determined to kill me today, I finally feel like I have them under control. I turn back to Mr. Muscles and wave. “Bye, Texas Ranger!”
He smiles, the most gorgeous panty-dropping smile I’ve ever seen, and waves back. “Bye, Ricky Bobby.”
And my heart explodes in my chest, I swear. I fight the huge smile trying to break on my face as Bianca and I walk away.
She, surprisingly, waits until we’re out of ear and eye shot of the man who I think I just fell in love with. “What the hell was all of that?”
“Talladega Nights,” I say with a shrug.
“Of course, it was,” she deadpans. She doesn’t share in my taste of stupid-humor movies, which I’m always quoting to her in my everyday life.
“You’re still smiling, you know,” she comments after we’ve walked a bit farther away.
“Am not,” I respond, pinching my lips together with my finger and thumb.
By the time we make our way back to Forever Grey, we’re both laughing hysterically about my misfortune that wasn’t so unfortunate at all.
“Oh, Lord, whenever the pair of you come in here laughing like that it’s always something good,” Suzette says when we walk in.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Suzette,” I begin sarcastically. “We are nothing but the best, most professional dog walkers in the state of New York.”
Slapping her hand down on the counter, she lets out a loud “Ha!”
Putting a hand on my chest, I look shocked. “I, for one, am offended by your disregard of my professionalism.”
“I’m sure you are,” Bianca mutters behind me.
“Bianca!” I spin on my heels to yell at my best friend-turned-traitor.
She gives me a look that reads “Really?” as she takes the leashes off the two well-behaved dogs, she took out today.
“Okay, fine. Lucy and Brutus might have set their sights on something in the park and taken me with them on their venture,” I tell Suzette nonchalantly.
Her eyes go big. “Are you okay?” she asks, looking me over for scrapes and cuts.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Only my ego was bruised a little. Then again, that happens pretty much daily with my career path.”
“She ran smack into a big dude running. Then the dogs tangled them up before we left, and genius here starts yelling nonsense,” Bianca tells Suzette.
“Not nonsense. Ricky Bobby,” I say, sticking my tongue out at Bianca.
“Okay, let me see if I can do what you do on the daily,” Bianca starts. She stands up and rolls her shoulders back before she continues, holding up a pretend mic. “And those dogs are off! Who’s walking who is the question on everyone’s mind in the park. And there she goes! Trip. Stumble. And smack! Right into the muscular arms of every girl’s fairytale dream.” She gives me a knowing look, making me blush a little, the jerk.
“That was pretty good,” I mumble, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.
“Oh, interesting. Did you get a name and number?” Suzette asks as she leans forward on the counter.
Shaking my head, I answer, “No. I think it was better to let that one go. He was nice about it all as it was. I didn’t need to make more of a fool of myself than I already had. I needed to save my dignity at least a little bit.”
“He was hot, Junie!” Bianca tells me like I didn’t notice.
“Uh, yeah. I picked up on that when I was pressed against his hot body and he smiled at me with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. So beautiful, in fact, that he should be on magazine covers and television. Hell, he probably is!” I fall back into a chair in the lobby after my rant.
“Come on, let’s go get some frozen yogurt. I think you need a treat after all this. And maybe a cool down,” she laughs.
“B, stop laughing at me!” I yell at her, crossing my arms in front of my chest and pouting. I quickly give in when she promises we can go to my favorite gelato shop, Screme Gelato Bar. Toffee Nutella, here I come!
2
That awkward moment when you’re wearing Nike’s and you can’t do it.
TROY
It’s spring. Which means spring training. Which means that my workouts have to work their way from enjoyable to kill me now. I thought college ball was tough, but I didn’t have a clue until I arrived here in New York after I was drafted to play with the Giants last year.
I do my team workouts and training twice a day, six days a week during off season, and then they bump up to three times a day for four days a week during the season. Sometimes it’s fun, and sometimes it’s anything but.
I’m a glutton for it though, and not only love the game but love to work out and feel good because of it. Even on Sundays, my usual rest day, I still tend to take a jog through the park if it’s nice out.
Much like the other day when I made my way to the park to enjoy the sun and rare warmth that was blanketing the city. On those days when I do it just for me, it’s a calm feeling that I get. It relaxes me. I don’t even listen to music while I jog; I just enjoy the sounds of the city around me and the people who live in it.
Pulling my ball cap down low on my head to hide my face, I took off through the park, using some of the smaller paths to avoid the influx of people out with the nice weather.
I was almost done for the day when I saw that girl being dragged by those two big dogs. I thought for sure she was going to eat it, which was why I tried to catch her. I didn’t want to see her get hurt or literally dragged through the park by her dogs.
The look of shock and relief that swept over her face when she realized I caught her was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. Her brown eyes went wide before her flushed cheeks darkened to a deeper red.
But it was when she quoted one of my favorite movies before she left that had me really wishing I would have gotten her name and number. I pushed down my regret as I watched her walk away with her friend and their dogs.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her all week. Not during training when I almost threw up and regretted my choice of eating a cheeseburger the day before. Not when Coach was yelling at all of us. Not when I was moving into my new apartment. And definitely not when I was sitting inside that apartment alone in the evenings.
Unscrewing the cap to a bottle of water, I flip through what I want to listen to while I decide what to meal prep for the coming week. I know, it’s a sexy Friday night.
It’s something that my teammates make fun of me for relentlessly. They all hire services to cook and clean and do their laundry for them, but this boy wasn’t raised in the city where everything is at your fingertips. And I’m also a little bit scared of what my mama would say if she thought I was hiring people to clean up after me.
I’m already smiling when I see my favorite podcast, Go Sports!, has a new episode I haven’t listened to yet. Some of the guys hate this girl, but I think she’s hilarious. I often wonder if she really is this clueless about sports or if she does it on purpose. Sometimes I think there’s no way she really hasn’t learned anything through the years, but then she’ll sa
y something and I think there’s no way you can make that up.
She’s what I listen to after a bad day. Doesn’t matter what’s happened; she always makes me laugh, regardless of how many times I’ve listened to one of the episodes or games.
I turn on the new baseball game episode and gather my pad of paper and a pen. It doesn’t take long before I’m so lost in listening to this girl and laughing that I’m not even making my list anymore.
I’m about piss my pants when a kid gets hit in the face by a pop-up foul ball and she says, “Oh, that’s not good,” with so little emotion. Then she goes on to talk about the dad needing to take a ball to the face since he wasn’t even concerned about his kid, only the dirty ball he’s holding up like he just caught gold.
My phone rings, pausing the show, and I’m still laughing as I answer.
“Hello?” I say through a chuckle, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“The fuck you laughing about?” My teammate Dante asks on the other end.
“I was listening to the newest Go Sports! episode. That chick gets me every time, man.”
He chuckles. “The newest baseball one? I was crying laughing. Laura thought I was going to wake the baby.”
“She’s so fucking funny!”
“I don’t know why some of the other guys get their panties in such a twist about her.”
“She probably did a game they played one time and it took away from their cool-dude vibe or something,” I tell him, and I’m probably not too far off the mark.
Dante and I are cool and get along great. We were both raised similarly and try to stay grounded, not letting the NFL or the celebrity that comes with it go to our heads. But some of our other teammates, especially those who have been around for a while, are a different story.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he scoffs. “Anyway, Laura said I needed a night off, and I’m not gonna question her motives for it. Want to go out for a drink or something tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, man. That’d be great. Haven’t gone out in a while.”
“You gonna be able to keep that million-dollar smile in check?”
“Shut the hell up!”
He, along with the rest of my team, loves to give me a hard time for the nickname I was dubbed not long after I was drafted. Some magazine called me Mister Dimples in their article about me, and from then on, that’s what I’ve been called by every newscaster, sportscaster or press person around. My “million-dollar smile” has landed me on more magazine covers in the past year than I’d have liked, but at the end of the day, I have to stick with the mantra of “any kind of publicity is good publicity” and roll with it. Which is why, when I’m out, I either embrace it and wait for the fans to come to me or I pull a ball cap low on my head and try not to hold back my easy smile, praying I’m not noticed.
He cackles into the phone. “Let’s meet at that new spot we were talking about the other day.”
“Deal. Is nine too late past your bedtime?”
“Ha-ha. No, Rookie, I’ll see you then.”
“Later.”
When my driver rolls up to the Tipsy Traveler where I’m meeting Dante, I do a quick look around the outside before exiting. Always searching for that crazy person who’s going to jump on me and try to get me to impregnate them with my smile. Out of a sense of security, I still wore a hat tonight, but if it’s a laid-back crowd, I’ll take it off and hook it to my belt loop.
I had sent Dante a text when I was close, and he said he was already here and had a table reserved. Walking inside, I scan the place and like the feel of it here. Spotting him at a table in the back corner, I walk straight to where he is with my head dipped down.
Clapping him on the shoulder as I take a seat, he tips his chin up in greeting before a wide smile spreads on his face and he rubs his hands together in glee.
“Your reaction is freaking me out. What’s going on?” I ask nervously as I pick up a menu.
“We’re finding you a woman tonight,” he announces, clapping his hands before rubbing them together again.
Smacking the menu down on the table, I give him a pointed look. “No.”
“Come on, man, let me live through you for a night.”
“Dude, if Laura heard you say shit like that she’d have your balls.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to get with another woman. I love my woman. No doubt about that. But I haven’t been out since before the baby was born. Entertain me. Let me see you chase some tail and potentially get shot down.”
“Fuck you,” I laugh. “I’m not your entertainment for the night. Or your live Nicholas Sparks movie to watch.”
“Okay, the fact that you even know who Nicholas Sparks is and aren’t in a relationship disturbs me.”
“My mom was always reading his books and making me watch the movies with her.” I wave a hand in between us. “That doesn’t matter. I’m not here to pick up some rando. I’m here to have a few drinks and hang with my friend.”
“Fine. Then you’re buying. You owe me at least that.”
“Only if I get a kiss at the end of the night.”
“You mean, Mister Dimples himself wants to kiss little ol’ me?” He jests with a hand on his chest and a high-pitched mock woman’s voice.
Fighting back a laugh, I hide my face behind the menu and actually try to read it this time. We both settle on too much food—all stuff we’ll pay for on Monday—and pints of a German beer they have on tap as we talk about the upcoming season.
Dante has been playing with the team for three years longer than I have. Being that he’s about to begin his fifth year in the NFL, he’s more ‘seasoned,’ which means he offers a lot of great advice for just about everything that comes our way. He quickly became not only my best friend here, but an awesome mentor as well.
He and his wife, Laura, have been together since college and were married after his first year in the NFL. They just had their little girl, Keira—who they call KiKi—almost a year ago. They are the dream. They are the rare ones who love hard and fierce and don’t let anyone or anything step between them. Which is so hard to do these days, especially for a celebrity athlete.
“Another round?” I ask him, stretching my arms above my head, hoping it helps all the food I just devoured slide down further.
“Yeah, I got you,” he says as he begins to stand.
“Nope. I owe you, remember?”
“Man, I was joking with you.”
I shrug a shoulder as I push in my chair. “Maybe, but I don’t mind.”
“I’m not really kissing you later. Just so we’re square!” he yells at my back as I make my way to the bar. I grit my teeth and shake my head at the fucker drawing attention to me on purpose.
Sliding my large frame between patrons at the bar, I get the bartender’s attention and order us each another pint. When he asks if I want to up it to the next size, I figure why not. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in months, and I don’t usually go out like this. I’m treating myself, and if I’m going to be hurting on Monday, then so is Dante. I’m bringing that fucker down with me after he tried to sick a jersey chaser on me on my way up here.
I add the drinks to my tab, pick them up and turn to head back. But my big ass is too big for the small space where I’m standing, and my elbow catches the girl next to me, spilling her drink straight down the front of her.
I quickly apologize and offer to pay for not only a new drink but her dry cleaning as well. She is having none of it though. These are the people and moments I don’t like about the city.
I can’t help but hear the girl on the other side of me muffling her laughter, and when she snorts, I have to look. My eyes go wide when I recognize her as the girl from the park with the dogs the other day. The same girl I’ve been kicking myself about because I didn’t get her name and number.
“Glad someone thought it was funny,” I mutter to her, making her laugh harder. “Maybe I should have turned in this direction,” I add.
She fans
a hand in front of her face, which has turned red from laughing, her eyes filled with tears for the same reason. Even with her dressed differently, I know it’s her. I’d recognize those brown eyes anywhere.
3
One day I’ll do amazing things. Today I’ll be satisfied if I manage to not spill food on my boobs.
JUNIPER
“Okay, hot momma, I see you,” I tell Bianca when she arrives at my place to pick me up for our night out.
“Oh, this old thing?” she says with a smirk. She’s feeling it tonight. “You look amazing too. Look at your boobs!”
Laughing, I look down at my chest, where I’m showing off more cleavage than I usually do. But, I too am feeling myself tonight. I don’t go out much, and having a night with my girl to dress up and feel sexy is what I’ve been needing.
We arrive at the newly opened Tipsy Travelers bar. Walking inside and looking around, it’s an amazing eclectic combination of various countries and places around the world. It’s exactly the kind of place my foodie best friend loves.
We opt to sit at the bar instead of waiting for a table. Sliding onto barstools, we both grab menus, anxious to see what they offer. It doesn’t take long for her to order some exotic drink and several small plates to share. I let her do her thing while I order a simple Prosecco to sip.
We’ve almost demolished all of the food she ordered when Bianca’s eyes go wide and she taps my leg, interrupting the story I was telling her about my little sister.
“What?” I ask confused.
Leaning forward, she whispers loudly, “I think the guy behind you is the same guy you ran into at the park.”
Swiveling my chair to see, I look up and see the same cut jaw and gorgeous face I looked into when he caught me in the park. Turning back, I look at Bianca. “Oh, shit, it is!”
Making a face at her, because I don’t know what else to do, we cover our mouths to hold in our giggles. Then I hear him curse and apologize to someone. Turning to look, I see he spilled a drink on the girl on the other side of him. She’s berating him while he’s trying to right the situation like a gentleman.
