Page 28 of Sportsball is for Lovers

ten

. . .

Jared

Sylvie Hirsch is a firecracker.As I watch from a few feet away, she effortlessly charms the pants off nearly every reader to approach her table.

We were only supposed to be here for a little bit. Yoni and I planned to grab lunch or a drink while she was working.

Instead, he’s been glued to her side all morning. There hasn’t been a moment to pause and get away.

I can’t blame him for falling into her orbit. She’s like a magnet, effervescent, pulling me in against my will.

She’s gorgeous.

I thought she was attractive as S, the mysterious sub from the app who knew exactly the right ways to please me.

I thought she was beautiful as Sadie, my brother’s boss who stunned me speechless last night.

As Sylvie, though? She is an absolute fucking knockout.

The worst part is, she knows it.

A pair of men approach the table. They’re standing close together, and as they pause in front of her, I watch as one of the guys slides his hand into the other man’s back pocket.

“I love the game play in this book,” the man on the right says, tapping on one of the titles. “It makes me feel like I’m back in the dugout with all my friends.”

Sadie—Sylvie—beams at him. “Oh, I’m so glad.”

“You nailed the pressure and fear of coming out so well,” the other dude says. “It’s like you saw directly into my soul.”

“Thank you.” Her smile softens. “That means the world to me.”

They talk more as she signs some books for them. When they pass along to the next table, her eyes flick up to mine across the way, and she pauses.

There’s a brief lull between readers. Her eyebrows go up, and against my better judgment, I find myself walking toward her.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask. My voice comes out husky, deeper than intended.

She raises her eyebrow at me. “I’m good, thanks.”

I want to do things for her. I want to help her. I want to take care of her.

But she doesn’t want my help.

“Bathroom break? Water?”

She shakes her head, turning to the next reader with a bright smile.

As much as I know I should walk away, I can’t. From across the hotel ballroom, I watch as she greets readers and fans with a cheery smile. I can see what she meant about Sylvie being a more amped-up version of Sadie. She’s always smiling, always happy, always “on.” She’s wearing a mask—entirely different than her submissive persona in the bedroom, and at the same time, so similar, too.

At least when I’m reporting on a game, there’s a defined time where I need to be “on” myself. There are clearly delineated points where I can breathe.

Yoni beckons me forward a few hours in.

“You don’t have to stand guard,” he says. “Thanks for waiting. It’s busier than we expected.”

“That’s good, right?” My brow furrows. There’s been a non-stop flow of readers in front of the table. As much as I’d like to spend time with my brother while he’s here… well, the view isn’t half bad.