Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“I bet that’s not all you’re hoping to slip into,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
“That is true,” I say.
Jason pats me on the back with gusto, an encouraging signal. “All right. You didn’t ask, but I have a plan for you.”
“Lay it on me,” I say, seriously grateful for any dude guidance these days.
“Text him now before you invent another excuse. When you get off the field tonight, you’ll not only have a W but a plan of action to take care of all your dick’s woes in a few more days.”
“I really appreciate you thinking about my dick,” I deadpan.
He shoots me a searing stare. “I was not thinking about your dick. I was thinking that I’d like to see you happy again and some action might help.”
Huh.
Am I unhappy? I’ve always considered myself an upbeat guy. But have I been a sullen bastard since my marriage combusted earlier this year?
Well, divorce isn’t exactly a festive occasion. Nor are the aftereffects of a split, like the daily online confessions my ex vomits up detailing lessons learned from his marriage. He’s a personal trainer who’s been reaping the rewards of our split. He’s tapped into the whole this is the real me heartache in his social media feed as he serves up how-to-build-your-biceps tips right alongside how-to-be-a-better-man banalities. That’s real fun, getting tagged in his videos. I wonder what his legions of fans would say if they knew what really went down between us.
But I don’t split and tell.
I smile and shut up, like my agent told me to do when my ex started airing our dirty laundry.
Maybe a night with Hunter would make me happy in the midst of all this shut-the-fuck-upping. Hunter’s fun, lively, witty, and carefree—the opposite of my marriage.
As Jason and I head to the locker room, I grab my phone to look him up, but when I open his name, I hear footsteps behind me, the distinctive click of the owner’s shoes I can never spell. Louboutins.
I stuff my phone in the pocket of my workout shorts. Nadia is a cool team owner, but now’s not the time to be sliding into the messages of a hookup.
“Hey, Nate. Hi, Jason,” she says warmly. I turn around, greeting her with a composed smile. She takes good care of us. Because of that, I want to perform for her.
But she’s also the big kahuna and the buck stops with her.
Our head of PR is by her side, Reese Kingsley.
“Guys, are you all set for Europe? We so appreciate you being flexible and heading over a few days early,” Nadia says.
We’d better be set for Europe. This game has been on the schedule since the start of the season, when the league announced its plans to bring at least four games between American teams to European soil this season.
We’re slated to play against the New York Leopards next weekend in London’s Triumph Stadium, home to epic soccer matches and concerts fans talk about for years. And since we’re playing here tonight, that means we have this weekend off from football.
“Yep,” I say.
Jason chimes in with an “absolutely.”
“Fantastic,” Reese says. “And just so you know, we’re still juggling a few last-minute media events in England. If you can just keep your schedules open until we’re set, that’d be great,” she says, always practical.
There go my potential plans. But I put on a bright smile. “I’m your man. Ready as ever,” I say.
We chat for a few more minutes till it’s time to stretch and suit up for the game.
Bummed, I head into the locker room, making my way to my stall. Oh, well. Guess I’m still in a holding pattern. There’s no point texting Hunter that I’ll be in town since I have no idea when I’ll be free. Doesn’t sound like I’ll have much breathing room anyway. But if I can spare an hour when I’m there, I’ll just text him then.
After I put on my uniform, I set my phone in my stall, but it buzzes right as I power it off. Whoever is messaging will have to wait till the game’s over.
We’re one game away from going five and one in our first six games. That would be our best start ever, and I’m starving for it.
I want it so damn badly, especially after coming so close last season and then having the chance to play in the Super Bowl slip through our fingers in the championship game.
Time to devote all my energy to fantasy number one—playing the best football I can and putting my team in a position to win it all.
All those other dreams will have to stay on the sidelines for a little longer.
8
ALL THE WAY TO THE TIP
Hunter
I’m never late.
Producing Webflix documentaries on two different continents means I’ve done this airport drill half a dozen times.