Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

Maybe more.

When I got my cup of coffee, I dumped the change in the tip jar, thanked the girl behind the counter and walked off to get out of the way of the next customer. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I jolted, nearly sloshing the scalding coffee all over myself. I hurried to an empty chair along a long bar and set my coffee down.

Hey! Great! Tell security to point you to the team’s entrance. You’re on my list. I’ll meet you then.

My cheeks warmed as I re-read the message. This was really happening. I was minutes away from having drinks with Ross Leverette! I shook my head, still dazed with disbelief, as I typed back a quick reply:

OMW

I chugged my coffee, searing my tongue, and then chucked the paper cup before rushing off to find security. The first one I found gave me instructions, and I hurried off, stopping in the ladies’ room to check my face and lips. My cheeks and the bottom of my ears were bright red from the cold. Great. I looked like a frozen hot mess all bundled up like a burrito—bet he’ll love that. I rubbed my gloved hands over my cheeks to warm them up and then pulled off my knitted cap.

UGH! My hair was plastered flat on my head and shaped like a beanie. Why did I agree to this? And why did I text him? I could’ve gone home with Rayna, and he would’ve never known the difference.

Damn it!

This was precisely why I hated winter. Chapped lips, static hair, and dry, red cheeks. But there was no backing out now. I slid the beanie back on my head, bundled up, and headed toward the team’s entrance.

When I finally found it, I stopped short. There was a noisy crowd of people who also appeared to be waiting for the team.

A few people passed by, apparently not even seeing me, and I sidestepped at the last second, flattening myself against the wall to avoid getting trampled. That was when I realized that almost every person waiting was a woman, dressed like they were going to a club opening, not a football game. Weren’t they cold? Where did they come from that they didn’t look like there was a blizzard going on outside?

Who the hell were these women? I stayed pressed against the wall and watched them. Were they hookers? Wives and girlfriends of the players? Football groupies? Is that even a thing?

I watched them all clustered together, talking in rapid-fire tones and smiling like they were on stage at the Miss America pageant, and I shrunk back even further. It was like having a flashback to high school. They were the cheerleaders and dance team queens, and I was the nerdy girl with headgear and a pencil case. There wasn’t a question. I simply didn’t fit in with these women. I’d never really wanted to. But at that moment, seeing them all gathered outside the team’s locker room entrance, it struck me with one sickening thought. This is who I’d have to be if I wanted to be with a guy like Ross.

Sure, at Maggie’s he was attainable. Sure, he was heart-stoppingly handsome, but he felt like a regular guy. Approachable and friendly. But here, it was like a kaleidoscope being twisted to change the view, and the picture looked completely different.

Ross had changed into jeans and a long-sleeve deep, scarlet-colored shirt that fit like a glove. His jeans hung low on his hips and fit just right to show off the powerful muscles in his thighs. I thought he was handsome in his uniform, but now he was downright intoxicating.

What the hell was I thinking?

He was smiling for the cameras, being interviewed for Sports Center, surrounded by blonde playboy bunny types who wore designer clothes, had perfect teeth, and looked like the real housewives of Bitsberg.

I took one more look around, my heart sinking lower with every overly make-upped face I saw, and when I’d gone full circle, I pushed off the wall and walked back the way I’d come. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding. Ross could have his pick of the playboy bunnies gathered outside the locker room. He wouldn’t want a girl like me—and if he did, there had to be something wrong with him.

Was this all some kind of dream? A fantasy I’d concocted for myself? I gnawed on my lower lip, turning over possibilities in my mind. What was Ross really after?

“Shelby! Hey, Shelby!”

I froze at the sound of my name. I knew that voice. Ross.

“Shelby! Wait up!”

I turned around in slow motion, somehow managing to force a smile onto my lips as he jogged over to me with a bright smile of his own. “Hey, Ross. Good game.”

“Wow. Thanks for sticking around. That took forever!”