Page 82 of Zone
My shoulders ache, and I rest my forehead on the back of my hand, staring at the words, at the pictures, at his sweet little girl’s sweet little face.
I can’t take it anymore. I scoop up my phone, fingers flying.
Melody
I can’t do this, Knox. We have to have professional distance.
K-Brad
Heyyy, I knew you were there. I’ve been busting my ass all week to get ready for the game tomorrow. Any tips before I take the field?
Melody
Talk to your coaches.
K-Brad
I know. You’re not my publicist or my coach or my press secretary… but you could be something better.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I shake my head, putting my phone aside.No.
I know what he means by something better. I know I’m thinking the same thing. We caught a glimpse of what we could be, and it was lovely and sweet. We already know our chemistry is undeniable.
But I have to set a boundary.
He’ll play tomorrow night, and he’ll know my thoughts like he always does, after the game.
* * *
K-Brad
I’m about to head out. I’ve got a hot take for you: K-Brad + QP = Gridiron Gold.
I’m sittingat my computer getting ready to cover the game when his text comes through. My stomach tingles, and my lips part.
“Gridiron Gold.” I shake my head, doing my best to ignore the surge in my chest, that sneaky happiness trying to throw me off. “That’s not what the people want.”
I put my phone away. It’s time to focus, to catch my breath. Time to remember my purpose, my audience, why I’m doing this…
I’m doing this because he yelled at me in an Uber and I was pissed. We didn’t even know each other then.
Of course, I knew he was the rookie quarterback who’d cost us the playoffs because of one undisciplined mistake after another. I knew I was pissed at him for that, or maybemore at the coaching staff for not doing a better job. Or at the offensive line for not providing better coverage, forming a pocket.
But it was more than that.
I was pissed at Susan for refusing to listen when I told her being a gotcha journalist sucked, and it wasn’t who I wanted to be. I was pissed when she walked out, and all of our subscribers went with her, essentially proving her right.
Proving that what I wanted to do—be fair and talk to people about who they wanted to be, how they saw themselves, what they thought they were doing right and wrong; get to the heart of the matter in a way I believed would be interesting—was in factnotwhat the listeners wanted.
Our audience wanted dirt, gossip, drama, shock, tears.
I felt so betrayed and stupid.
Then I ran out of money with an eviction notice staring me in the face.
Then he got into my car for a ride to the airport.
“I took it all out on him,” I say to myself softly. “All that anger, all that hurt, all those broken dreams… All that fear that I was about to lose everything.”
