I looked around to check if anyone was watching me. Thankfully, no one was. Pressing on my cheeks with my fingers, I tried to keep my smile in check. Before I could write back that I was missing him too, another text chimed in.
Dylan: I saw your dad. You cried.
Me: I miss him.
Dylan: I shouldn’t have said what I said at dinner.
I watched the dots appear and disappear several times.
Me: It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.
When nothing came back for a few seconds, I wrote again.
Me: I think I’m missing my roommate too.
Dylan: Yeah?
Me: Yup.
Me: Are you in bed? What are you doing?
Dylan: Yeah. Chris brought his Xbox with him so we’ve been playing Madden since dinner, but he’s on the phone now.
Dylan: And I’m talking to you.
Oh God. Are we flirting? I really hoped we were flirting. My heart skipping all over the place, I put the phone down in my lap and pressed the backs of my hands to my cheeks to absorb some of the heat, and to stop myself from smiling like a lunatic in the middle of the lobby—though, I was pretty sure it was too late for that.
I must have taken too much time to come up with something clever because before I could reply, I saw the dots jump around again.
Dylan: Are you in bed?
Yup. We were flirting.
Abort. Abort.
Me: Yep.
So clever, Zoe.
Dylan: That’s good.
My heart in my throat just from texting with him, I dropped my head back and gazed at the colorful high ceilings.
Just when I was about to write, Yeah it’s comfy—another terribly clever response—Miriam saved me.
Miriam: Coast is clear. You can come up!
Thinking I would for sure come up with something better once I was in my room, I headed toward the elevators.
Dylan: I think you fell asleep. Sweet dreams, Zoe. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Groaning, I decided not to answer so he could get some sleep and just headed up to my room.
Chapter Sixteen
Zoe
The entire day was a whirlwind of breakfast, meetings, nap time, meetings, lunch, and then game time. Before I could take in the stadium or the level of noise around me, Cash was ushering me to the sidelines so I could take a few shots of the players warming up before the game.
“Miriam will cover the coaches. You cover the boys.”
That was fine with me—more than fine, actually. I did a 360 and gulped when I took in my surroundings.
Dear God.
So many eyeballs.
It didn’t escape my notice that I’d been saying the same thing a lot since the day before, but there were just so many people…hence so many eyeballs.
“Zoe! Get to it!” Cash yelled as he was walking back to Miriam’s side. I swallowed again and nodded.
I was standing a little to the left of the player tunnel, camera in my hand, trying to find the perfect setting, when Dylan, Chris, and a whole slew of guys jogged out.
I felt eyeballs on me all right, not because they couldn’t take their eyes off of me or anything like that, but more because I looked lost, like a fish out of water. Only one set of those eyeballs sent a tingle up my spine, and those belonged to Dylan Reed.
With the confidence in the way he walked onto the field, the way his eyes locked on mine over his shoulder right before he joined his friends to stretch and do drills…I was done for. Seeing the perfection of him in that uniform wasn’t helping the matters at all.
My camera still in my hands, I watched him disappear into the crowd of his teammates. A few seconds later, I spotted him again, thanks to the big number twelve on the back of his jersey. I kept watching as his biceps bulged under those huge shoulder pads and he lowered himself to the ground, where he and the rest of the team started their pregame warm-up routine with stretches. Was his ass that tight at all times or had he done something to it in the locker room? All I had going for me was that my mouth wasn’t hanging open; that was pretty much it.
I was startled enough that I did a little jump when I heard Cash yell my name again.
Right.
Photos.
I was supposed to take photos.
So many coaches and important-looking people milling around, talking, arguing in huddles. Like a little snake, I walked around them and took a shit load of pictures of the boys doing drills on the field, and then I approached Miriam and Cash where they stood away from everyone. If they thought there were too many photos of Dylan Reed, that wasn’t my problem.
“You done?” Miriam asked, taking a step away from Cash.
“I think so. I think I got some good shots, but it’s my first time doing this, so I’m not sure if they’re actually good. I like them though.”