1. Alice
Alice
Four years later
Today is the first day of the regular season practice for all of the Tampa Tarpons organization.
While tryouts to be a Tarpons cheerleader took place in May and June, this is the first time I’ve been to the headquarters when it’s overflowing with this many people.
From the front office to the back office, to the coaches and players, the halls and rooms are filled with people and meetings.
The excitement in the air is palpable and infectious in the best way, and this is also my first season as a professional cheerleader.
I feel like I’m floating into my dream come true.
Like a lot of little girls, my mom put me in gymnastics at a young age.
I competed, I traveled, and I placed, but I wasn’t as passionate about it as she was.
That is, until one day after school, I walked into the gymnastics facility to train and saw the cheerleaders.
I was mesmerized by their combination of gymnastics, dance, cheer, stunts, and overall friendship.
They laughed together, hugged each other, and when they landed their pyramids, cheered together.
I wanted that. I wanted to belong on a team where I wasn’t competing against my friends, but we were competing together.
While my mother was wary of the change—after all, the time and commitment that goes into something like gymnastics is exhausting—she didn’t discourage me when I joined the middle school’s cheerleading team.
It was after that first day that I never looked back.
For over ten years, I have been a cheerleader.
I competed at the club level throughout middle school and high school.
I cheered for my school, and then I cheered for my college, the University of Florida.
It’s something I plan on doing for as long as I can, and now I’m proud to say I am a professional cheerleader for the Tampa Tarpons.
Was it an easy road to get here? No. But I did it, and no one can take that away from me.
“Hello there,” a man in dress slacks and a button-down says with a nod as he passes.
The headquarters of the Tarpons is about two blocks away from the stadium.
All of those blocks are vacant for game day parking, but it’s here where the practice facility, the weight room, the athletic trainers, the corporate folks, and all the meetings are held.
“Hello.” I smile back at him, feeling giddy as I cruise down the hall that smells like fresh lemons.
Everyone that I’ve met is very nice, which brings me to why I am here today.
Yesterday, I received an email from the marketing department asking me to come in this afternoon for a quick meeting.
While I’m not sure what this is about, some of the others on my team told me that they do this when they’ve assigned public appearances they want us to attend.
Of course, a cheesy grin split across my face because I would absolutely love to represent the Tarpons out and about around town.
Glancing at the numbers on the gray conference room doors, I’m almost to mine when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in over four years.
It’s a little bit deeper, but it’s undeniably his, and I come to a screeching halt, as the familiar sound ricochets like shock waves through my body and an instant cold dread races down my spine.
“We’ll get started in a few minutes,” a female voice says from the open door. “She should be here soon.”
“She?” he asks, and instantly, I turn and flatten my back to the wall. My jaw drops as I gasp, my arms and legs go numb, and my heart races as I wait for her answer.
“Yep,” the voice says, not elaborating, when I know deep down in my soul I’m the “she” she’s referring to.
Oh no.
No. No. No.
This cannot be happening.
Not today.
Not on my happy first day.
While I knew there was a possibility of running into him at some point, I had told myself this place was large enough for both of us, and the odds were low. On the field? Maybe. But here? No. And certainly not on day one.
My stomach bottoms out with a familiar ache, a soul-deep hurt, and a tiny flicker of long-lost faint longing. I’ve seen him once in two years, and we haven’t spoken in over four.
So why?
Why is God doing this to me?
After everything.
Glancing down at my watch, and through the spots floating in my vision, I have one minute left before the meeting is supposed to start. That’s one minute for me to compose myself before I am face-to-face with my least favorite person on the planet. Of all the people in the world, it had to be him.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
I feel like the universe is playing a sick joke on me, and that happy bubble I arrived in starts to deflate. The smell of the lemons turns sour.
While I’m certain he doesn’t want to see me either, the only positive here is that I get the element of surprise.
Also, luckily for me, I came to this meeting prepared.
Being the face of any organization, I learned a long time ago to always plan for the unexpected because you never know when you need to have your game face on.
Hair? Check.
Makeup? Check.
Outfit? Check.
I’m dressed business casual in a pair of fitted black slacks, a lavender button-down shirt tucked in, trendy gold jewelry, and four-inch black heels. No matter what happens in that room, I know I look good.
Wiping my nervous hands across my thighs, I hold my head high, take another deep breath, spin for the door, and enter the room. While he may make an insane amount more than I do, I have every right to be here too.
All heads turn my way, but unfortunately, the only one I see is his. There, sitting at the table, looking like the god he thinks he is, is Ryder Monroe.
His hair is still slightly damp from being recently washed. He’s wearing a teal T-shirt with Tarpons written across his chest, and his hands, which are resting on the table in front of him, curl into fists as he also registers that the “she” is me. Seeing his reaction, I smirk.
Upper hand.
His eyes narrow.
My smile widens.
Asshole.
“Alice! Thank you so much for coming,” a woman says, grabbing my attention away from Ryder. Sitting at the head of the table, she smiles at me as if I’m the best thing she’s seen today. Instantly, my red flags rise as it occurs to me this isn’t an ordinary marketing meeting.
“Oh, sure,” I tell her as I take a seat at the table across from Ryder. His gaze rakes over me, and it sets my skin on fire. Four other people are in the room, aside from him and the woman, and I’m certain the confusion is evident on my face.
“My name is Gretchen.” She holds her hand out to me, and I politely shake it. “I’m the one who reached out to both you and Ryder to come in today.”
She glances excitedly between the two of us, and for a split second, the little lines between her eyes make an appearance.
I’m certain she can feel the tension radiating off Ryder as he’s leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Neither of us acknowledges the other, but I’ll be damned if I’m the problem today.
Taking a deep breath, she continues. “My role here with the Tampa Tarpons is CMO, chief marketing officer. Quick introductions: around the table we have Danica, who is with our social media content team; Brian with public relations; Stephen with brand management; Amber with content marketing; and lastly you and Ryder already know each other.”
His eyes shoot to mine. Eyes that used to be so expressive and my favorite in the whole world are as flat as they can be today. No emotion whatsoever, yet I do my best to be the opposite and make certain mine sparkle.
I also lean back in my chair, cross my legs, and place my arms gently on the armrests.
“Now, I know you’re both probably wondering why we’ve brought you in.
Part of our job is to get to know our players and other members of the organization to see if there’s a feel-good story to tell.
Whether it be a charity someone has funded, a family member who used to belong to our organization, or an employee who’s worked with us for a very long time, things like that.
And while we researched those incoming for the next season, we came across this.
” She picks up a remote, presses a few buttons, and a compilation of pictures and reels of Ryder and me together over the seven years we were friends begins to play on the large presentation screen.
Well, not just friends, but best friends.
It starts with us in middle school and continues to the state championship football game our senior year, where we’re both sweaty in our respective uniforms. He has eye black smeared across his face, but his teeth are bright white as we smile from ear to ear at each other.
He has his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and mine is around his waist. It finishes with us both dressed in matching colors for prom.
I remember those days as if they were yesterday, and several different emotions sweep through me as the pain of nostalgia at what I just watched hits me and I forget to breathe.
I’ve spent so much time trying to not only block out those memories but also move on from them.
Move on from him. I know we all have different seasons in our lives, where there are people who will come and go, and well, that’s what Ryder has done.
He’s gone. Not everyone is meant to be best friends with the same people forever.
But I’m certain reliving this with him in the room affects me way more than him, so I do my best by gritting my teeth not to show him or anyone else exactly how that video made me feel.
“Ryder, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a player of your caliber who is a local join our team.
Given your high draft status, the past friendship between the two of you, the love that the community has for each of you, and that both of you are rookies to the organization this year, we’ve decided to launch a series this season featuring the two of you. ”