4. 4 Nathan
4: Nathan
F uck… her . Really? I grind my teeth together.
Her tanned and toned arms tighten around her legs, and her pink lips part slightly as our eyes meet.
She looked beautiful under the lights in the wine store, but here, all sweaty and aghast… shit. I don’t want to look at her, but my eyes keep finding their way back.
She’s a problem I don’t need.
I have enough on my plate.
I plaster a scowl onto my face, snapping my eyes away and standing on the side of my clustered teammates—as far away from her as I can get.
I try my best to ignore her presence, but I can’t help myself. Her barely-covered skin has a glowy sheen to it. Her wavy hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, with loose pieces on either side of her slender face. It’s flushed, but I can’t tell if that’s because she’s been training or because she’s recognised me from yesterday.
I was an idiot for paying for the wine, but I truly believed I’d never see her again. And now here she is, part of the Missarali Storks Cheerleading Squad.
I pray she doesn’t put me on a pedestal, expecting me to converse with her in passing. Ask how she is at games. Take an interest in her life.
That’s not me. I’m not interested in her in the slightest.
I was doing it for Emmanuel.
We’re here for a meeting, but Darrell gave little away about why. We don’t socialise with the cheerleaders that often, and for good reason after what happened last season.
Renee clicks her tongue, pulling out her phone, scanning the screen. “Right, are we ready?” She turns to Darrell, who gestures for her to proceed.
“Do you know what this is about?” my teammate, Samuel, asks, his arms crossed, face unimpressed. No doubt he’s supposed to be on a date right now. I swear the guy has worked himself through the entire female population of Missarali.
“No idea.”
“Let’s be frank,” Renee’s tone is icy, “the media and fans aren’t happy with you guys.” She’s addressing my team. “After what happened last season, they think that—”
“Hold on,” Darrell interjects. “I was told this applies to both the football players and cheerleaders. That’s why this is a group meeting, Renee.”
She glares, her jaw so tight it looks like it’s going to break. “As I was saying, it’s not looking good for the Missarali Storks, and Peter has come up with a plan to debunk the stories about how the players, and cheerleaders if you will”—she rolls her eyes—”aren’t taking this seriously.” Her gaze lands on me, head tilting.
A chuckle escapes me. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, Renee,” I say loudly. “I’m not a puppeteer for my teammate’s dicks. They’re all grown men with free will, and the same applies to your cheerleaders. All those relationships last season were consensual.”
A few small gasps from the more uptight cheerleaders capture my attention, but when my eyes flicker to her again, she appears to be holding back a snicker.
It causes me to pinch my eyebrows together. None of the cheerleaders would ever dare laugh at Renee.
Last season, one of my players knocked up one of the cheerleaders, and another couple was photographed making out in a subway station. I’m still not sure why Renee blames me, but according to her, I’m the most influential member of the group, and I didn’t step in. So, apparently, it's my fault.
I’m thirty-three, and a lot of these players are barely pushing twenty-two. I’ve learned that you can’t try to control youngsters in that kind of way. The more you push, the more they reel back.
That, and I’m not in charge of who they decide to have sexual relations with. I don’t control them, and I don’t want to. As long as it doesn’t affect the way they play, I don’t care who they fuck.
Renee looks like she’s about to combust, and Darrell shoots me a warning look, but I wave his concern away. She’s always treating me like I’m scum on the bottom of her shoe, and occasionally, I like to show her that her opinion means absolutely nothing to me. If she wants to test me, then I’ll test her right back.
A small smile graces my lips as Renee diverts her eyes.
“Onto Peter’s plan. He wants to create a positive look for the Montana Storks, including having the football players and cheerleaders seen publicly together, doing charity work. Not getting handsy.”
I roll my eyes.
Right, like that’s going to work. The fans and media are going to think what they want. There’s no point manipulating their beliefs.
Darrell speaks now. “You’re all going to be paired up with a member of the other team and then put into groups of four. Your job as partners is to keep the other in check. Make sure they don’t step out of line and do or say anything at these charity events that could hinder the team.”
I mentally scoff. I’m not about to babysit a cheerleader. I have much more valuable things to do with my time.
“We want you all to complete this charity work to the best of your abilities. Show Montana that you care. Not only about football, but the community. Right now, you’ve been painted out as people who prioritise money and sex.”
The media’s perception of my team is fucking stupid. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I know fame, money, and sex are not the reason they’re here.
We’re misrepresented—looked at as people who care about our salaries and scandals more than anything else. Some of the players are serial daters, but they’re open about it. The women they see know they don’t want to settle down. It’s just sex, and both parties are aware of that.
“Might I remind you all of the no-fraternisation rule that’s come into play this season,” Renee booms. “Anyone seen having anything other than a professional relationship with a member of the other team will immediately be cut. Those are not only my rules, but Peter’s too.”
She shoots a blazing look over at Darrell, and eventually, he shakes his head and says, “And mine, too.”
The last people I want to hang around with are the cheerleaders. I don’t have anything against them personally, but they’re a link to Renee, and I don’t need them feeding back to her and causing even more trouble for us. She has a way of spinning everything we do into something negative.
I can practically feel the tension streaming through my veins.
It seems Bennett can sense it too, as he glances at me with raised eyebrows. A look that says dude, chill out. You seriously need to get laid.
But fucking women doesn’t score touchdowns—another famous line from my father, Kevin Slater, or as I like to call him in my head, the leech.
Football is all he cares about. So, in turn, it’s all I care about.
It’s all I can care about.
I hate how he’s programmed me to be this way, but your childhood shapes you, and mine was the rectangular shape of a football field.
My eyes flicker to… her again, and my chest tightens. It was bad enough when she was wearing a cami top and jeans at the wine store, but now she’s in front of me in sweaty gym wear, and it takes all the strength I have to peel my eyes away.
“Do we get a say in who our partners are?” Sophia asks, raising her hand.
“Absolutely not,” snaps Renee. “In fact, Darrell and I came together to pair you up with people we believe you’ll be least compatible with.”
Samuel scoffs beside me. “Like an anti-matchmaking service?”
I can see Darrell fighting a smile, and I know he finds this almost as ridiculous as we all do. But Peter’s the boss, and what he says goes. ”If you want to call it that, yes.”
I run a hand down my face. We need the extra time to train, and instead, Peter is adamant about mopping up our image.
You know what’ll really clean up our image? Winning.
A baby’s cry whips me from my thoughts, and I turn my head to see Evan storming through the tunnel, holding onto his two-year-old son, Leo, with one arm. Droplets of tears dribble down Leo’s chubby cheeks, and Evan presses a soft kiss to the side of his head before glaring out at the rest of us.
His growly behaviour causes me to chuckle.
“Evan West, how many times have I told you, no children at meetings? And you’re late,” Darrell groans, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose as Evan approaches us.
“When Leo’s nannies learn to be on time, then so will I.”
“Are they actually late, or did you fire another one?” I laugh.
“Fuck off, Slater,” he huffs, but it’s all friendly.
Bennett gasps, leaning forward to place his hands over Leo’s tiny ears, causing the small child to stop crying and giggle. “That’s no way to talk in front of a kid.”
“Oh, come on, Quinn. He’s heard worse.”
I feel sorry for Evan. Leo’s mother wants nothing to do with either of them. Not only did she pack up and leave once Leo was born, but she hasn’t called since. She’s living it up, now engaged to some famous hockey player, and I doubt she’s been truthful about birthing a child to her fiance. Not even the media know who Leo’s mother is.
Renee clicks her fingers at us—trying to gain our attention—as if we’re dogs. “This is what I’m talking about—fools… all of you. Listen out for your names and your partner. We want you to choose somewhere to volunteer with your group. We have some charity events lined up that we’ll all be attending, too. But we can talk about those during another meeting.”
I’m hoping I’ll be paired with someone like Sophia or Madison. I don’t know much about them, but I’ve spoken to them in passing a few times. They seem like easy girls to work with, and that’s what I need—an easy ride.
Anyone but her .
Because she looks like a fucking rollercoaster.
And I hate rollercoasters.
I keep my arms crossed as I listen.
“Madison and Evan, Kelly and Samuel, and Clara and Jason and Rebecca and Michael…”
My throat feels tight. I don’t know her name, but judging by how she hasn’t reacted, it hasn’t been called out yet. I arch my eyebrows daringly at Renee as she glances at me, her mouth downturned before continuing to read the names and groups.
Her eyes are deadly. Challenging.
“Lastly, Bennett and Poppy,” she pauses, “and Nathan and my daughter, Mae.”
My lungs constrict, and I glance down at her as she follows Renee’s gaze, her hazel eyes widening as they quickly rake over my body before focusing back on my taut face.
Fuck me.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
Because not only am I partnered up with this girl who causes my self-control to shed with every look she gives me, but she’s Renee Bexley’s fucking daughter.