The Game Changer (The Perfect Game 2)

“Kitten. Are you OK?” He curled next to me in the bed, holding my shaking body in his arms. All I wanted to do was run. Literally. “Talk to me, Cass. ”

“Are they still downstairs? The press?” I avoided looking at him.

“Yeah. They’re fucking vultures. ”

I pushed off the bed and walked into the kitchen. I opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass. Filling it with water, I gulped the entire thing down. “How did you hear about the article?”

“The team’s publicist saw it and alerted me. He’s putting out an official statement on my behalf. ”

“What is your statement?” I asked, placing the glass down on the cold granite countertop.

“I don’t know. ” He shrugged.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I started getting pissed, the heat rising in my belly.

“The team makes a statement, and I’m required to go along with it,” he told me, trying to make me feel better but failing miserably.

“What if you don’t agree with it? What if it’s a horrible, stupid statement? You’re just supposed to smile and nod your head?”

“That’s what happens, Kitten. They put out a statement that’s best for the team, and I’m supposed to agree with it. I have no say. ”

I turned my back to him, storming into our bedroom. “That’s fucking ridiculous! This is your life we’re talking about! And my life. These are horrible lies about you and about me. We can’t just sit here and agree with some statement you didn’t even make. ”

He followed right behind me. “What do you want to do? Make our own statement?”

I grabbed my running shoes from the closet. “I have to get the fuck out of here. ” The heat spread quickly throughout my entire body as my temper flared beyond control.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“You’re not the only one with a temper, Jack. Just because I don’t go around putting my fist in people’s faces doesn’t mean I don’t lose my shit!”

“Running away isn’t really showing you have a temper. It just shows you have…” he paused, “legs. ”

I laced up my gym shoes. “Just leave me alone. ”

“See? Legs for running away instead of staying here and talking it out!” he yelled, his voice frustrated.

“I can’t think clearly when I’m around you. I need to be away from you. ” His eyes. His face. They all distracted me from my internal thoughts.

I slammed the door and walked down the stairs to our gym, thankful it was empty. I turned on a treadmill before plugging into my iPod. The music of Imagine Dragons blasted in my ears as I started running faster and faster, all the frustration from the last few months pouring out in beads of sweat across my forehead. Wishing I could stomp out all the blog posts, newspaper articles, gossip columns, message board threads, and Chrystle from my memory with each step, I slammed my feet against the moving surface.

After an hour of running on pure adrenaline, nothing changed. I didn’t feel better, relieved, or calmed. The same pressures and hurt remained. I realized this was something I could no longer ignore.

I wasn’t happy.

The past four months had helped dissolve my strength into a puddle of self-doubt and misery. Being with Jack meant accepting all the other things that came with it, and I hated it. My head pounded as I walked back into our apartment. Ignoring Jack, I moved past him and into the shower. He tried to follow me, but I closed and locked the door. I took my time, hoping the hot water would wash away my doubts, but nothing helped. Afterward, I towel dried my hair before emerging with another towel wrapped around my body.

Jack sat on our bed, watching my every move as I quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top.

“I didn’t sign up for this, Jack. ” I snapped my eyes shut, willing the online pictures and tabloid article to disappear from my mind.

“You didn’t sign up for what exactly?” he asked cautiously, his head tilting to one side.

I sighed. “I didn’t sign up for this life. This constant invasion of privacy… this scrutiny. This judgment. People get to say and write whatever they want about me, and I just have to sit here and take it. I can’t deal with it anymore. ”

The tears started to fall, and I didn’t bother to stop them. “Did you know that my pictures are plastered all over websites where people get to vote on whether or not they think I’m hot enough for you?” I screamed through my frustration.

Logically I knew it wasn’t Jack’s fault, but my embarrassment overruled all logic at the moment. “Do you know how horrible that feels? To be judged on my looks by a bunch of fucking strangers? Heaven forbid I’m actually a good person who loves her boyfriend and works hard and treats people well. But that doesn’t count. None of that matters!”