19 #2
The growing attention from the media had me on edge.
It wasn’t that I doubted Nash or my feelings for him, it was that I could anticipate what was coming next.
I worked in advertising; I understood how to play off people’s desires and emotions.
I also knew how quickly public opinion could turn.
The thought of strangers dissecting our relationship for entertainment made my stomach churn.
As Sammy went to grab our drinks, I found an empty table and sat down, my mind drifting.
Nash had a history—one that I’d witnessed firsthand—and when he went pro, the media had painted him as a notorious player.
Some of those stories were probably exaggerated, but it still made me wonder.
And based on the comments and speculations on the pictures of me and Nash so far, I needed to get ready.
Sammy returned and set our drinks down on the table, immediately narrowing her eyes at me. “Okay, what’s going on? What’s bothering you?”
Of course, she could read me like a book. I hesitated, then mumbled into my glass, “Women.”
She raised an eyebrow, instantly catching on. “So . . . what? You think he’ll cheat? Or are you just worried about other women hitting on him? Or having to listen to them talk about him?”
I let out a heavy sigh. It sounded even more ridiculous when she said it out loud. “I don’t think he’ll cheat.”
“Good,” she said firmly, nodding as if to cement the fact. “Because I don’t think so either. He’s crazy about you, Ken.”
“I know that too.”
“So, what then? Are you worried because he’s been around?”
I groaned. It made him sound like a slut. Perhaps he was. I had no idea what his body count was, and I definitely didn’t want to ask. “Maybe that’s part of it,” I admitted. “I’m nothing like any of the women he’s been with before.”
Sammy snorted. “That’s probably a good thing.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “Hmm . . . maybe.”
“But . . .” she continued, eyeing me over the rim of her glass.
“I think I’m mostly nervous about all these beautiful women throwing themselves at him and the backlash that I’ll get.”
I took a long sip of the vodka soda Sammy had ordered for me, hoping it would help calm my nerves.
Sammy stared off into space, clearly processing what I had just said.
“I can’t really give you advice on that, Ken, because I’ve never been in that position,” she started, her eyes meeting mine. “But he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. And he’s never had an official girlfriend.”
“You’re not helping,” I groaned, taking another sip.
“I’m not trying to scare you.” Sammy leaned in a little. “I’m saying you need to prepare yourself, because it’s coming. People are going to have opinions. And some of them won’t be nice. But it’s noise, Ken. Not reality.”
She was right, and I needed to focus on that, or I’d lose my mind worrying about what people might think or say.
“He wants me to be his girlfriend,” I admitted quietly.
Sammy’s smile was radiant, her whole face lighting up at the thought. But I could see the curiosity lingering in her eyes as she waited for more.
“I’m not ready for the world to know yet,” I said. “Nash is used to living in the spotlight and having people knowing all his business. I’m not, and honestly . . . I don’t want to be. That part of this relationship scares me.”
I didn’t want to be judged for loving him.
Years of ridicule in high school had left their mark. Teenage girls could be cruel, and I had been the target of their jokes.
Now I knew that my brother and my closeness with Nash and Isaac had made me a target. But at sixteen, all I’d seen was that no one wanted me for me.
I had longed for girlfriends to have sleepovers, go shopping, and share secrets with. But I’d quickly learned not to trust anyone. It wasn’t until I met Sammy that I got to experience what it was like to have a true girlfriend.
That loneliness had shaped me, made me wary of friendship, of letting people get too close. And here I was, afraid of facing judgment all over again—not from a handful of high school girls but from the entire world.
Sammy’s expression softened with understanding. “Yeah, I get that. It’s a lot.”
“We’ll need to talk about it soon, I guess. How to handle the social media and the keyboard warriors,” I said, feeling the weight of the inevitable conversation looming.
Sammy reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Yes, but you don’t have to figure it out alone.”
We got quiet for a minute as I considered what she’d said.
“Let’s go watch the game,” Sammy suggested, draining her glass. “We can at least cheer him on like every other girl in here.”
“Sammy . . . not helping,” I complained again.
She flashed me a wide grin over her shoulder. I sighed, holding on to my drink, and followed her to our seats.
Nash had another fantastic game, finishing with one goal and two assists. When the game ended, I followed Sammy out onto the street. I wasn’t about to hang around and watch Nash get bombarded by reporters.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Sammy asked as she hugged me goodbye.
“Yeah, the Empires have an away game, so I’ll be home after work.”
“All right. See you then.”
I watched her blond ponytail sway as she hurried toward the subway. My station was in the opposite direction since I had to head uptown. I joined the stream of people descending the stairs, enjoying being just another face in the crowd, unnoticed and unremarkable.