4th & Girl

Gemma: Your aunt is right. You do have the cutest butt on the field.

Gemma: Wow. You’re fast. Like, cheetah speed. Remind me not to be chased by you. I’d be lunch meat just like a gazelle.

Gemma: That guy was HUGE. Did he injure you?

Gemma: Oh wait, I guess you can’t really answer right now, huh? Fuck, I hope he didn’t injure you.

Gemma: Oh, never mind, I just watched you tackle some guy to the ground. You’re good to go, if you’re wondering.

Gemma: Wow. These games are long. Aren’t you tired? I’m kind of tired.

Gemma: How many minutes do you have to run a day not to die doing this?

Gemma: Holy shit, that guy is missing teeth. Is there a chance you’re going to be missing teeth at any point? Tell me now.

I laughed at her running commentary, noting how good she was at a one-sided conversation. Apparently, she’d been hanging around my aunt Alma a little too long.

Me: If I get teeth knocked out, I’ll go to a dentist. Don’t worry. I’m not sure I could pull off the hockey player look.

I waited with the phone in my hand for her answer, but when it didn’t come quickly, I knew I couldn’t sit around waiting forever.

I had to get my ass showered and ready for the bus back to the hotel if I didn’t want to be on the team’s shitlist.

Tossing my phone back into my bag, I ran to the showers and did just that.

I scrubbed and soaped and washed everywhere, but what I absolutely didn’t do was think of Gemma. The last thing I needed in a group shower with a bunch of football players was a boner I couldn’t hide.

Dried off and dressed, I grabbed my bag and headed for the bus.

My phone was still silent, and disappointment niggled deep in my gut.

Cam smiled as I climbed aboard and nodded to the empty seat beside him.

I took it without question.

“Get pretty enough in there? Tampon secure and everything?” he asked just as my ass hit the seat.

Apparently, my version of quick hadn’t been quick enough.

“I didn’t have time for makeup, but I made do,” I said through a laugh and slid my bag to the ground at my feet and settled my head into the rest.

“You better buck up,” he said as I closed my eyes. “We’ve got celebrating to do.”

I was shaking my head before he even finished the sentence. “I don’t think so, man. I’m gonna stay in tonight.”

“Wow. Period cramps must be really bad.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “First day is always the heaviest.”

He smirked at that. “Fine, fine. I guess I’ll let you off the hook. This time. But that’s mostly because it doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out why.”

I quirked a brow, and he chuckled.

“Mystery girl who isn’t such a mystery anymore,” he added, and I couldn’t exactly deny it. “How was the big date, by the way?”

“So good we’ve already got plans to go out tomorrow night when I get back.”

“Damn, son,” Cam said and feigned wiping tears from his eyes, “It appears our little rook is about to turn into a man right before our very eyes.”

I just laughed it off, and he grinned.

“Anyway, I already knew your ass wasn’t going out tonight the minute we left the field.”

“Then why’d you give me so much shit?” I asked with a grin.

He shrugged. “For fun.”

“And what exactly are you doing tonight?”

“Going to the room and calling Lana,” he said with a wink and a nudge, and a mere ten seconds later he put his headphones on and turned to look out the window.

That was the Cam Mitchell version of conversation officially dismissed.

And, as much as my phone burned at my feet, I knew better than to take it out on the bus. Instead, I closed my eyes and settled in for the ride back to the hotel.

When I got there, I’d call Gemma.

Maybe even FaceTime her.

Sunday nights were for Netflix binges and takeout.

Also, when you worked at Alma’s sex toy sweatshop, they were for calling it an early night and getting some sleep in preparation for the week ahead.

At a little after ten, I climbed into bed, set my alarm for 7:00 a.m., and bid the lights good night. I needed at least eight solid hours of sleep if I wanted any chance of keeping up with ole Alma and her plethora of shipments.

Not to mention, she’d recently put me in charge of taking inventory photos. An entire overhaul of product pictures, to be exact. Once I’d managed to convince her the weirdness that was vibrators in nature landscapes wasn’t easy on the eyes, she’d given me free rein on revamping the whole vibe—pun intended—of Alma’s Secrets.

And, in the spirit of keeping shit up to the sex toy industry standards, I went with the simplicity of white backgrounds and great lightning. It didn’t take much to make a fake penis stand out.