Rush Me (New York Leopards 1)

When the doors opened, I filed in with the rest. By then, some of the players were already dressed in street clothes, but many more were in various states of undress. They lumbered about, laughing and snapping with energy, knocking into each other and pulling on pants. I saw more of Keith and Dylan than I had ever expected to see, and more back hair in general than I’d realized existed. The room smelled like sweat, and damp jerseys were still being whipped off by the slower players. There were towels and skin and tape; lots and lots of athletic tape, crumpled and sticking to things, all over the place.

Eddie Bruges immediately latched onto Malcolm, who grinned and laughed, beaming with happiness. The other reporters started angling for a player, or lining up behind particular guys. I craned my neck, trying to find Ryan, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.

Fine. This would be a total loss if I just went home now. Since the guys I knew were out of range, I stepped over to a couple of half-dressed strangers. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Ryan.”

They looked at each other and laughed, and then leered at me. Oddly, I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I guess I was used to this particular football leer by now. One of them winked. “It’s a good thing you found me instead.”

Tanya was by my side in a moment, narrowing her eyes at the player. “Shove it, Garza.” Then she turned them on me. “I wouldn’t start with Carter.”

I smiled a little awkwardly, appreciating her temerity but also wishing she would disappear. This was difficult enough. “Thanks. But I need to.” Turning back to the guys, I asked, “Where is he? Can you get him?”

“You’re wasting your breath,” the second one said. “Carter has a girlfriend.”

Beside me, Tanya perked up with journalistic interest. “What’s her name?”

I scanned the room impatiently. “Ryan!” I shouted, unable to wait. “Ryan!”

A couple of the other reporters eyed me censoriously.

My gaze caught on a trim goatee. “Keith!”

He turned and frowned. “Rachael?” In a minute, he had reached me, and glared at Tanya before refocusing on me. “What are you doing here? You should have come before the press.”

“I sort of came as press. Is Ryan here?”

Tanya studied me with uncomfortable intensity. “You know Carter?”

Abe bounded forward. “Rach! Was that a great game, or what?” He looked ready to pull me into a headlock or something, but I deterred him with a hug, laughing despite myself at his energy.

“Yeah, it was great.” I disentangled myself. “We’ll have a celebratory picnic or something, later. But right now, I’m trying to find Ryan.”

“How do you know Carter?” Tanya pressed.

“Oh.” Abe threw an uneasy look at Keith. “Malcolm!”

And then Malcolm was there, pushing through the crowd and frowning down at me. “You all right? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said in a small voice. “I just wanted to see Ryan.”

Bruges pushed his way forward in Malcolm’s wake. “What’s going on here? You bothering the little lady?”

The little lady?

Both Keith and Abe’s echoes sounded shocked. “The little lady?”

“Is he here?” I asked Malcolm, who looked worried and unhappy and concerned. “Please, Malcolm.”

Malcolm just smiled sadly and stepped aside.

At first I thought he was refusing to answer me. I thought I had been abandoned to the news critters at my sides, jabbering away, even as Keith, and now Dylan and one or two of the other Leopards who I had only met a time or two started telling them to back off. But then I saw a shadow, and then a foot, stepping out from what must be the private area of the locker room. He rubbed a white towel through his messy blond hair before slinging it around his neck. His chest, bare and newly washed, still gleamed with one or two droplets that had escaped the towel.

He robbed the breath from my lungs, and I had to fight to fill them again with oxygen. “Ryan,” I said, just a whisper, but it cut through the sudden silence like a shout. Ryan’s head jerked up, and his face, flushed with exertion and excitement, paled, making his eyes stand out even more. This time, they made me think of the Arctic sky. I licked my lips, unable to think of what to say.

And then the reporters burst out talking. “You’re not dating Carter, are you?” Tanya demanded, while Bruges kept stuttering, sounding outraged at having missed out on the news. There was a camera at my shoulder, a microphone in my face, and then Keith was yelling at the reporters and Dylan wrapped an arm around my shoulders, dragging me forward while Mike warded off people on my other side. I stumbled blindly as they pulled me toward Ryan. Part of me wanted to dig my heels in and resist; I didn’t want to move an inch toward Ryan. I didn’t want to be the one to make the first move.

But I already had; I had set all of this in motion, I had made the press badge, I had lied and snuck and ended up here. And now I was a foot from Ryan, and the others were retreating, forming a wall against the reporters.

“Hello,” I said stupidly.