Chapter 8
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to see you, but what are you doing here?” my best friend asks across the kitchen counter. Sophia decided to take the day off work since I was in town, not that her son was complaining, because it meant he didn’t have to go to the babysitter’s house.
When the door swung open Saturday afternoon, Sophia practically jumped out of her skin.
A small shriek of excitement echoed in the foyer of her home, her hand pressed hard against her chest. She quickly ushered me inside, and we’ve spent the past two days catching up on everything, except I might have left the part out about a certain wrestler that I’d reconnected with…
and had gone on another date with…and had fooled around with in the bathroom of his parents’ pool house like teenagers, trying to avoid being caught.
“Can’t a girl stop by to see her best friend?” I ask, sipping my orange juice. I’m surprised she waited this long to ask, but after twenty years of friendship, Sophia knows me well enough not to push too early.
“Of course! But a surprise visit usually happens when you live twenty minutes down the road, not three thousand miles away.”
I shrug, fingering the rim of my glass. “I missed you, and I had the opportunity to get away, so I thought what better way to remedy the problem than to spend the weekend with you?”
“You sound crazy,” Sophia says. Her eyes narrow, roaming every inch of my face.
“Skipping town for the Fourth with Gabe at the last minute is one thing, but this…this is completely different. You flew to the other side of the country, Sloane. Without telling me! You showed up on my porch without any warning. You, Sloane Elise Jenkins, do not do that. The last time you came to town required months of planning. What is going on?”
Guess it’s time to come clean about what I’ve been doing the past week, minus the conversation I had with my future editor in chief on Friday afternoon.
I haven’t told Sophia about my phone call with Diane because I know she won’t approve.
She’ll tell me I’m crazy for trying to write two articles—the anniversary article for The Baller, and the secrets of EWE and Amos Rafferty for Pulse.
Just like Gabe and Daphne, Sophia will attempt to talk me out of it.
Tell me I need to consider how Bennett will feel if (and when) he finds out.
Remind me that while it’s not exactly against the rules to mix business with pleasure, it’s extremely frowned upon.
Everything I’ve already told myself from the moment I accepted his invitation to meet him in Phoenix for the show tonight.
I’ve written a million articles about the lives of the wives and girlfriends of athletes, but I never stopped to consider what it must really be like.
From the outside, everything looks glamorous and perfect.
They have beautiful hair, fresh manicures, the latest designer handbag, and a picture-perfect family, but what you don’t see is the stress, anxiety, and pressure behind the scenes.
When I’ve sat down to interview those women in the past—or on occasion their famous significant others—I always knew they were putting on a front to make it look like they’re living the dream.
People can’t be that happy all the time.
I know that, but that was never the story I was supposed to tell.
All I’ve wanted is the opportunity to write about something that matters, like detailing the mental effects and strains on the men and women supporting their famous partners, exposing the harsh realities of power imbalances, or uncovering the ethical dilemmas brought on by questionable team decisions and policies.
I didn’t want to be the F. Scott Fitzgerald of the Boston sports scene, detailing the glitz and glamour.
And now, I have the opportunity to do something about it.
Diane from Pulse was immediately on board with the deconstructive narrative.
If I could pull this off, I’d be looking at my very own column in the magazine.
The catch? I have to turn it in by the first week of August. And as far as my current editor knows, I’m out of the office working on his story.
The story of a man who rebuilt a failing company from the ground up and restored public interest in a sport known for the most predictable unpredictable outcomes and fake beatdowns.
If I can secure my place beside Bennett on the road after tonight, I should have no problem writing either one.
It would also mean spending time with him.
After our nonstop text thread and late-night phone calls the last few days…
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to being in the same place.
“Grab my purse, will you?” I ask, motioning for Sophia to hand over my purse across the kitchen. I pull out the plain white envelope that Bennett had overnighted before I left Boston, setting it between us on the counter.
She looks between the envelope and my face a handful of times before settling on me. “What is that?”
“Open it.”
“Sloane—”
“Soph, just open it,” I say, pushing it a little farther in her direction.
She sighs but does as she’s told. Her face contorts in confusion when she peers inside, and I hide my smile behind another sip of orange juice. Slowly, she pulls out the contents, mouth agape. “These are…Sloane, these are backstage passes. Why do you have EWE backstage passes?”
“You remember when—”
“Holy shit, are you dating Wolf Bennett?” Sophia practically screams. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me. How could you not tell me? I thought you weren’t interested in him? When did this—”
I laugh. “Soph, breathe. We’re not dating.”
Her narrowed eyes demand further explanation.
This was the one part of my plan I hadn’t totally thought through.
Whatever explanation I come up with, my best friend is likely to see through it.
She knows I’ve been vying for a spot at Pulse, and she knows I was recently handed a feature story.
Lucky for me, while I might have told her about the story, I never told her what it’s about.
The longer I sit here weighing out exactly how much of the truth I’m going to reveal, the more I can see her starting to put the pieces together.
“Wait a second, is this for that new story?”
Too late.
“No! Of course not,” I say, but the crack in my voice betrays me.
“Does he know?” she asks, and her brow cocks over the rim of her coffee mug when she brings it to her lips. My mouth opens and closes a few times, and when I finally start to say something, she cuts me off with a heavy sigh. “Sloane, you cannot be serious.”
“The story isn’t about him! It’s about Amos.”
“Amos Rafferty. As in the owner of EWE?” Sophia scoffs. “Good luck with that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that man giving an interview outside of the scripted ones on EWE television.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” I scrub my hands down my face before crossing them tightly over my chest. “Bennett was never part of the plan.”
“Wait a second.” She pauses mid-step in the middle of the kitchen, looking over her shoulder. “Did you just call him Bennett?”
“That is his name.”
“Maybe to the government, but to the rest of the world, he’s just Wolf.” A slow smile spreads across her lips. “Oh my gosh, you like him.”
“I don’t…I don’t know. Maybe.” I groan, folding my hands in my lap.
“I’ve been so stressed about this whole thing, and Gabe suggested I take the holiday weekend off.
Said I should come hang out with him and his family.
Well, our first night there, we went to get pizza a few towns over because his sister had been raving about it and ran into him. ”
She tries to hide her smile. “Did you actually run into him?”
“Why is that relevant?” I ask, already knowing what she’s getting at.
Sophia has always been a hopeless romantic.
Those cheesy Christmas rom-coms where the girl falls in love with the ruggedly handsome, grumpy, small-town handyman after one week, instead of the guy in the city with a high-paying job and a penthouse apartment who she’s been dating for a year, are her favorite.
I can guarantee she thinks this will be one of those situations.
“Answer the question, Sloane.”
I roll my eyes, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, but do anyway. “Yes, we literally ran into each other, and before you ask, yes, he caught me before I hit the ground. I had no idea we were in his hometown.”
She practically melts where she stands, pressing her hand to her heart. “This is the second meet-cute you’ve had with the same man. The universe is giving you a second chance after you let the first one slip through your fingers, and if you don’t do something about it, I’m going to disown you.”
“I don’t mean to pry, Sloane,” Sophia’s husband, Isaac, says, keeping a steady hand on the boy beside him as we approach the side door.
Liam has been bouncing off the walls since his mother told him we’re going to Monday Night Rage.
However, she strategically left out the backstage passes…
until we arrived five minutes ago. Upon our arrival, she was forced to tell both her son and husband the truth about our tickets.
“But do you want to share with the rest of the class how you, Miss You’d-Never-Catch-Me-Dead-at-an-EWE-Show, ended up with backstage passes? ”
I glance at Sophia on the other side of Liam. “You didn’t tell him what happened last year?”
Isaac looks at his wife. “Didn’t tell me what?”
“I went on a date with Wolf Bennett last year,” I say.
“I told you,” Liam singsongs, looking up at his father.
Isaac’s mouth drops, looking between Liam and me. “I thought you were kidding! Soph, you let me believe he was kidding. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugs. “Wasn’t mine to tell. Nothing came of it. He dropped her off that night without so much as a kiss.”
“We’re standing outside the arena with backstage passes, I assume from him.” Isaac looks to me for confirmation, and I smile, neither confirming nor denying. “I’d tend to say something came of it.”
“It’s very new,” I say in her defense.
The door marked No General Admission swings open to reveal a venue security guard with a straight face. Very friendly, I see. He beckons us forward. “Passes.” Without another word, he checks each one before motioning us inside.
“Do you even know where we’re going?” Sophia asks, and I shake my head.
“I’m just as lost as you are. Bennett said he’d meet us when we got inside.
” We walk down the long hallway toward an opening into the depths of the arena.
I’ve walked through the halls of sports facilities hundreds of times, but none of them intimidated me as much as this.
Something about this feels different. I’ve thought of this moment countless times since Bennett invited me to the show on Thursday evening.
Each time a mixture of excitement and anxiety and anticipation courses through my veins.
“Sloane.” My name rings out down the hallway, and my heart rate increases, recognizing the voice immediately.
A bright smile lights up Bennett’s face, and he reaches us in record time, sweeping me into his arms. I let out a soft gasp when he kisses me, and it silences every thought racing through my head.
It calms my nerves, but lights me on fire at the same time.
My stomach does about one million somersaults, because I know this is going to require an explanation to the woman standing next to us.
Bennett pulls away too soon, tugging me into his side when he turns to face my best friend.
“You must be Sophia. It’s nice to officially meet you. ”
“It’s nice to meet you, Wolf,” Sophia says, and shakes his hand. “This is my husband, Isaac, and my son, Liam.”
Bennett shakes Isaac’s hand before bending down to Liam’s level.
“It’s nice to meet you, Liam,” he says, extending his hand.
The boy’s eyes light up, matching the smile on his lips, but no words come out.
I wonder what’s going through his head right now.
Is he nervous? Excited? I imagine it must be nerve-racking to be this close to the person you’ve looked up to for so long, but I can’t remember the last time I felt that way about someone.
“I’m sorry,” Sophia laments. “He’s a little nervous. He’s a big fan of yours.”
“All good. How about I introduce you to some of my friends before I have to get ready? I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.
I saw Rae a few minutes ago, maybe she can take you down the ramp before the show starts,” Bennett says, and Liam nods enthusiastically, taking his hand.
They walk down the hallway, and while my mind says to follow, my feet feel glued to the same spot since he kissed me.
I didn’t expect that kind of greeting. I mean, we’re not…
dating. We’ve only been on one date…Two, if you want to count the trip to Beacon Brew…
Three, if you want to count the Fourth of July party.
Shit, three dates? That doesn’t mean we’re dating.
We haven’t put a label on it, and can you really call it dating if my only purpose here is a story?
I jump, feeling something touch my arm, but it’s only Sophia, threading her arm through mine. She forces me to walk, following the three men ahead. Bennett laughs at something Isaac says, and if you didn’t know they’d just met, you might think they were old friends.
“Wolf and Sloane, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Sophia whispers from my side, and I glare at her, but it only makes her smile.