Plunge (Alpha Athletes 1)

I had fought it with every cell in my body. The pull to him. The draw that only a man like that had.

After Sydney I refused to contact him. I wasn’t going to be one of his groupies. I knew those types of women. I’d covered enough events as a sports reporter to see the look in their eyes. It was the fame. The conquest of crawling under the sheets with a famous athlete was enough to keep them coming back for another inning, quarter, or half. Their clothes got shorter and their necklines deeper. That wasn’t me.

I never cared about their million-dollar contracts or the endorsements that threw them into the spotlight. I loved the purity of sports—the way they brought people together. How games made people forget their problems. How in a single moment when there was a score on the board people could hug and cheer and unite in something other than anger and hatred. How friendships were born out of the love of the same team. Or how rivalries sprouted up and lasted for years. I loved all those things about sports—not the wealth and the wastefulness. Not the hype over insta-fame.

My father always said I had an eye for talent. I could spot the real deal before the recruiters. But I wasn’t into building teams, or working for sports clubs. I loved writing and reporting. It was as much a part of me as the games.

I stayed out of the way of the players. I didn’t date athletes. I had a policy to not even use their first names. It kept things on a professional level.

I swore I’d never sleep with an athlete. That was until the night I met Blaine.

Five weeks ago

National Swimming Trials: Sydney, Australia

I didn’t know I had this many tears in me. I stared at the mirror in the bar bathroom. There was more mascara on my face than remained on my eyelashes. I ran a scratchy paper towel under the faucet and dabbed at the stains on my cheeks. The harder I rubbed, the worse I looked.

Damn it. Who got fired on assignment?

The call came as soon as my drink was delivered. There had to be some kind of irony in that. A victory drink with a side of unemployment. I blotted my face again.

I had only been with Sports Now for six months. Six short, glorious months.

Newspapers were no longer hiring, and online sports outlets were overrun with bloggers and fans flooding the scoring reports. Sports Now was the most relevant sports channel in the country. It was a dream to work there. A dream that blew up in my face on my second day at the swim trials.

They sent me to Australia to cover the Olympic qualifying meets. I was willing to take any beat they gave me as long as I had a job. I didn’t know anything about swimming, but I was ready to study up. If it meant an all-expenses paid trip to the land down under, then it was even better. I couldn’t believe I had this job.

I’d worked my way up through local news. I freelanced with as many national magazines as I could. I put in my time, and finally it came together with this job. The perfect, life-changing job.

I tucked my press badge inside my purse as I crossed the street after the swim finals completed. Two nights in and I felt confident I could deliver the last night of coverage. Most of my broadcasts were for our online audience,

but I knew Sports Now was committed to growing that fan base.

I thought about asking my editor, Phil, for a few mainstream events once we made it past the Olympic games next month. I wanted to be in Rio with the crew, but I was also looking ahead to the fall and football. It was my favorite sport. I’d take college or the professional level if it got me on the sidelines.

I had found a pub, or as the locals called it, a boozer, near the swim center, and had just logged on to the wireless to work on my edits for tomorrow’s live shot. By the time my screen blinked to life, I had a beer in my hand and my phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Ava, it’s Phil, and Amy’s on the line too.”

“Amy?” I couldn’t form the words fast enough. Amy was in human resources. Something was wrong.

“Hi, Ava.” She sounded sweet on the phone.

“Hi.” I pushed the beer away from me. I had a funny feeling about this phone call. I tried to block out the noise from the raucous crowd in the bar.

The city was buzzing with the excitement from the swim trials. It felt as if the entire world of sports was here to watch history unfold. It was almost electric how intense the energy was around the arena.

It wasn’t my country. And I didn’t know the swimmers like the athletes back home, but I couldn’t help but cheer for Blaine Crews. There was something about the journey he was on as an athlete that pulled everyone in.

Phil cleared his voice. “Look, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”

I knew the time change was a mind fuck but I hadn’t missed any deadlines since I had been here. I did a quick calculation in my head to try to figure out the time in Atlanta. It was close to 8am there.

Everything had been on schedule. I was going to check online to see what kind of hits my last broadcast received. I should have had that information before I took the call.

“What’s going on?” I was cautious.