Page 40 of Playing to Win
“Why?”
Gwen turns to me, her voice lowering, her gaze shifting from me to Eric and back to me as she talks. “He’s being stubborn. And rude. I think he’s mad that our post did so well and he doesn’t want to admit his content is stale.”
“Yeah, well you’re both being really stubborn,” I say, keeping my voice purposefully gentle. “I agree he’s struggling to admit that our post did great, but you two sitting in this office constantly arguing or not speaking to each other at all isn’t working. We need to get out there and get more content. We have a game to push. An entire team to feature.”
This office is tiny. I’m over being locked away in here. And besides…
I hate to admit this, but I want to get outside and watch Ace in action. I haven’t seen him since he stopped to talk to me when I was sitting at the picnic table struggling to take notes on the most boring chapter I’ve ever read for my ancient history class, and I…
Miss him.
No. I don’t miss him. That’s just weird. How can I miss someone who irritates me every time I talk to him? Hell, Ilookat him and I’m irritated.
I definitely don’t miss him, but I do miss his…smart mouth and charming smile.
God, if he ever knew I thought that, he would be so smug.
“Have you heard from Mattson yet?” Gwen asks Eric, her tone even. Not hostile like it has been.
He shakes his head, remaining silent.
“We should go out there anyway.” She pushes back her chair and stands. “You ready, Ruby?”
I nod, leaping to my feet with a smile. “Let’s get out there.”
* * *
We hearthem before we can actually see them, their angry shouts filling the air. A whistle constantly being blown. Lots of curse words, including a blasted “Fuck!” that seems to vibrate in the air.
Sounds like the football team is in crisis, much like their social media team.
“Throw the fucking ball, Townsend! Get rid of thedamnball!”
They finally come into focus, just in time for us to witness Ace scrambling, launching the ball at the same time he’s sacked from the side, the lineman taking him down hard.
A gasp escapes me when Ace hits the ground and I clamp my lips together, hoping no one noticed. Gwen and Eric are too wrapped up in their own bullshit to notice me anyway and I try to play it cool, though my heart is thumping twice as hard as I watch Ace lie prone on the field.
He pops up seconds later, as if a current of electricity ran through him, bringing him back to life, and I breathe a sigh of relief, my gaze tracking his every movement as he claps hands with the lineman who just took him down, performing some sort of complicated hand shaking ritual that eventually has me shaking my head.
Boys. They’re kind of ridiculous.
We launch right into capturing content, Eric protesting at first that we should ask Mattson if it’s okay, but Gwen ignores him, holding up her phone and filming Ace as he gets back into position.
I stand behind her, my gaze stuck on Ace. He’s wearing a practice uniform with pads and everything and he looks positively delicious. He’s also got a sweatband around his head, though he’s wearing it more like a head band so it keeps his hair out of his eyes.
Most any other guy wearing that, I’d think he looks dumb, but not Ace.
Nope, he’s hot as hell in just about anything.
When he finally notices us, he does a double take, a slow smile sweeping across his face when our gazes lock, his dropping to my black T-shirt, lingering there. For a minute I think he’s just checking me out but then when his smile shifts into a shit-eating grin, I remember what my shirt says.
Future MILF.
I can’t help that I love a good silly T-shirt, but I’m particular too. I won’t just wear some dumb shirt for the sake of amusing myself or others. I have to really like it—I might even need to believe in it. I also need to feel a little cool when I wear it.
Natalie bought me this shirt when we first moved in together and I immediately loved it, because of course I did. Future MILF—definitely goals.
Gwen catches some footage while they continue to practice until Mattson blows his whistle, calling a water break.
