Page 10 of Pack End Game

What are the odds I can part ways with Milo as soon as the game ends and sneak away to get my flirt on? Surely the team will be looking for a way to celebrate their win. Unless they lose... in which case, I'm also fine with offering myself up as a consolation prize.

Milo clears his throat aggressively mid-sentence, and I quickly realize that I've let the camera drift off-center while my attention has drifted. Embarrassed, I center my shot back up for Milo to finish his reporting. As soon as he signs off, he rushes to my side with a frown.

"You good?" He glances in the direction of the team in an attempt to see what caught my attention.

"Yep." I smile brightly at him. "Just couldn't help noticing some of the more attractive Sloths on the field."

I laugh as he grimaces at my answer. Being twins means Milo has been forced to bear witness to basically all of my tragic dating choices over the years. He thinks I have questionable taste in men and that I should stay single for the rest of my life.

The team heads to a TV timeout, and I'm relieved for a chance to drop my aching arms by my sides. Milo swoops the camera out of my hands, and I'm so relieved I barely hold in a groan.

"Thanks for staying," he says. "I could have tried doing the post-game interviews with a tripod, but it's always better to have a real person running the camera. Are you sure you don't want me to take a turn getting some of this game footage?"

I raise an eyebrow at him with a pointed look. My brother is a great sports reporter, but he's mediocre behind the camera. He tried to take a turn shortly after half-time, and nearly missed a great pass from Number 33.

Number 33 has one of the top three asses on the team. I may have accidentally zoomed in once. Milo can have fun explaining that to his station's video editors later.

Time moves differently in football, where the clock is constantly starting and stopping. I'm glad we seem to be reaching the final minutes of the game because while muscle memory has helped me hold my own behind the camera, the weight is absolutely killing my arms.

Maybe I should try going to the gym for an arm workout sometime or something. Better yet... I could do more shopping. Carrying heavy bags seems like an efficient method of lifting weights to me.

"Time to get back up and running." Milo cheerfully hands the camera back to me, kind enough not to sucker punch me in the gut this time in the process. I've built up so much goodwill for doing him this favor that he's going to owe me at least three normal-sized favors in return.

Even though I'm only recording a football game, I feel a voyeuristic thrill being behind the camera. Looking out at the world, knowing no one is looking back at me, is unexpectedly fun. I think I might have to tell Quinn I've discovered a new kink for myself.

That's not the kind of detail most people should share with their boss, but Quinn and I have become good friends over the years while I've helped her build her sex toy brand into the empire it's become today. Besides, HR can't tell us not to talk about sexy stuff at a company that literally sells sex. We hand out orgasms like Halloween candy.

In other words, the HR team gave up on warning me to be appropriate a long time ago. My employee folder is as thick as some of these football players, but I'm too good at my job for HR to recommend firing me anyway.

I smile to myself at the thought.

A freezing gust of air suddenly blows through the stadium, chilling me to the bone. I shrink deeper into my stolen coat, grateful that the garment is oversized on me so that I can burrow inside. The wind sweeps toward the center of the field where the two teams are lined up facing each other. The Sloths have the ball.

Something is wrong, though. None of the other plays took this long to get started.

"What's going on?" I whisper to Milo beside me.

He gulps audibly. "Looks like something is going on with Spencer Mills, the quarterback. I really hope he's not injured. I'm not sure if the team can make it in playoffs without him. Their second-string guy is way too green to take over."

I zoom the camera in to get a better look at the quarterback just as the man seems to turn and look straight back at me. He takes a few long strides straight toward my lens, and I can feel myself go a little googly-eyed looking at him head-on. The obnoxious helmet he's wearing does nothing to hide his flawless dark skin, piercing caramel eyes, and chiseled jawline. He looks more like a movie star than an athlete.

"Uh, Mia?"

Milo taps me on the shoulder, and I tear my gaze away from the camera with a great deal of annoyance. Ogling attractive men is my number one hobby, never to be interrupted except in cases of life or death emergencies.

My brother stares at me with an expression I've never seen before, his features all twisted up in confusion or maybe alarm.

The sensation that I'm missing something hits me square in the chest. "What?" I ask in a hushed tone, a wave of insecurity passing over me. Is it weird of me to think that Milo isn't the only one staring at me?

I look around and am hit with a wave of nausea as I realize everyone seems to be staring in our direction. I press closer to my brother. This is the last time I nap in stupid clothes. From now on, I'll take all of my naps fully dressed in my best outfits just in case another situation like this ever arises.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" I whisper, doing my best to disappear even further into my coat.

"I don't know. Maybe it's your outfit," he jokes in a strained voice.

All I can do is roll my eyes. He seems to forget so easily that I rushed here to help him, and my outfit is an unfortunate consequence of my desire to help my brother. He should be nicer to me.

Hopefully, no one I know is here to see me dressed like this.