Page 83 of Blinding Lights

“No.”

“He called you in here for me.” I turn to the sound of Keeley’s voice, and my confusion deepens.

“What’s going on?”

“The Phantoms trade rumors have started up again. A contact of mine said they began after you were photographed at the New Orleans airport this week.”

“When you were supposed to be at practice here,” Coach interjects, making me cringe.

If I bring negative press to the team, they’re not going to like it. “What’s being said?”

“Nothing’s gone public yet,” Keeley continues. “But Pierce was confronted about it this morning. And after the game today…”

“You mean after my performance?”

“I was being nice, but yes. They’re going to have questions.”

“Shit.” I lean back in my chair and rub my temples. “They’re wrong on so many levels. I have no desire to play for the Phantoms.” My eyes dart between Keeley and Coach, hoping they believe me.

“We never thought you did. And the same goes for us—we have no desire to trade you. But they’re going to ask and they’re going to expect a reason for today’s…” Keeley trails off but I fill in the blank.

“Shittiness?”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Coach nods in my direction.

“If I’m honest, it’s personal, but I don’t want to be honest.”

“Food poisoning?” Coach shrugs, his attention drifting to his phone.

“What?” Keeley and I speak in unison, both frowning his way.

“Tell them you had food poisoning last night and you’re still feeling off today. That should shut them up.”

“You want me to lie to them?”

Coach scoffs. “Or you could tell them you were stuck in your head because of some girl back home.”

“What the fuck?”

“Am I wrong?” He stares at me expressionless, and I shiver at his scrutiny before blowing out a breath.

“No. But…”

“It’s always some girl with this team.”

Keeley tries unsuccessfully to bite back a laugh as I groan under my breath. “Food poisoning could work. Keeley, what do you think?”

“I think Pierce is more perceptive than we ever gave him credit for. But also, food poisoning is a solid idea. It won’t garner as many follow-up questions.”

“Great. Thank you both. For the heads-up. And for understanding.”

“I don’t fucking understand it. But I’m giving you a pass. You can thank D’Angelo and Keeley for that. They pointed out the fact that this is out of character for you. But if you miss another practice, or fuck up again next week, I’ll bench you in the playoffs.”

“Noted. Thanks, Coach.”

After somewhat convincingly blaming my game on food poisoning, I get through the interviews relatively unscathed. And I even manage to slip through both airports mostly unnoticed the next day, apart from a few fans stopping me to say hi.

I thought I’d wake up in a sweat this morning, after a sleepless night, but surprisingly, I’m not as worried as I thought I’d be considering being here in New Orleans undoubtedly adds fuel to the fire.