Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I highly doubt Dex Lansing is the love of my life, but stranger things have happened.
“Thanks, Cora.” I give her a little side hug. “You always give the best pep talks.”
“It’s a gift.” She flips her hair dramatically. “Now real quick, tell me more about this date tonight—what are you going to wear? Maybe have your tits out.”
She whispers the last part about my tits because now we’re in the hall and it’s filling with children fresh from recess.
“Jeans and a cute shirt?”
“Jeans and a cute shirt?” Her groan is louder than her speaking voice. “I cannot cosign on a shirt. Don’t you have something sexy?”
“We’re going out in public—I’m not going to have my boobs out!”
“You’re dating an athlete. Give him a show.”
I laugh. “Literally the only things I have aren’t fun. My closet is embarrassing—I also have nothing that shows cleavage.” Although I could probably borrow something tight.
“If you don’t embrace the fact that you’re going out with a sexy sexpot, there is no hope for the rest of us.”
I stop at my classroom, smiling sweetly at my students as they file back into the room. Like an angel.
“Why do you always make things about you?” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m speaking for the committee. The itty-bitty-titty committee.”
We lean against my door with a case of the giggles.
“I’ll try.” I hold my fingers up. Scout’s honor. “Don’t expect any miracles.”
But a miracle sure would be nice.
Seated back at my desk, I give my students some time to unwind and get settled in. Everyone needs a bit of me time, and I am no exception, wanting several moments to process and clear my head from Cora’s teasing.
Show off my boobs?
I couldn’t.
I wasn’t lying when I said there was nothing in my closet to show off the girls around Dex, and I’m not about to run to the store to buy something new.
That would be silly.
I nibble my bottom lip. Why not? Why not go to the store and buy something a little less conservative? Invest in yourself!
Lord, give me the confidence to enjoy myself tonight.
I don’t know what to expect, but I hope I survive a night with Dex Lansing.
Chapter 19
Dex
The place is packed.
Not that I’m surprised, but it’s always nice to see a good turnout, especially when you’re bringing a date.
A first for me.
It’s not unusual for my teammates to bring friends or family to these things, but for me? I’ve never had anyone to bring. Just me, myself, and I.
Which puts me solely in the spotlight, front and center, no wife or kids or girlfriends lingering nearby to draw attention. Occasionally my agent will show up, depending on the city.
This signing event is local.
Obviously we’re contractually obligated to be here—the same way we’re contractually obligated to do postgame interviews—and in case you’re wondering, yes, we get paid for our autographs. It does kind of feel weird taking money from people, but I can’t be the only dude at the table not charging fans.
It would piss off my teammates, and the rookies can use the extra cash. They don’t always rake in the big bucks unless they’re drafted in the first round.
I’m tempted to take her hand when we walk into the building, Margot stepping into place beside me. I catch a whiff of her perfume when the wind kicks up. She looks fantastic and smells better, but also: she looks fantastic.
This is going to be the longest hour.
I regret inviting Margot along because now the only thing I want to do is be alone with her. I want to be in a half-empty theater with my hand under her blanket . . .
That will have to wait.
I introduce Margot as my friend when the event coordinator greets us, and she’s given a spot off to the side where she’ll be able to easily see the fans and the action.
Me.
I’m the action . . .
There is a long table draped in a black tablecloth where me and two of my Arizona teammates will be seated with stacks of glossy 8 × 10 photos of ourselves, along with glossy team photos. You know the kind—the entire team sitting on the bleachers in the stadium, looking badass and serious? Yeah, those.
Those will be free, but the headshots cost money.
“Oh my God, this is so exciting,” Margot says nervously. “I hardly know what to do with myself.”
She’s not wrong; people are lined up in the lobby, the line flowing down through the venue and probably out the front doors, each person waiting for their moment to meet us.
I pat her on the behind to comfort her.
I notice quite a few kids and teenagers and would have given my left nut when I was younger to meet any of my pro sports heroes.
I also notice I’m placed between Kendrick Hayes and Dominic Rivera, two of the most popular and well-known players on our team besides me, although Dominic is a rookie and doesn’t get as much playing time.