Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
MADDY
“Shit, that’s good,” I mumble, crunching on the queso-laden tortilla chip I just shoved in my mouth. Reaching over to the table next to me, I grab the giant to-go cup and take a long sip of my fountain orange soda that is somehow the absolute perfect blend of syrup and carbonation.
With the sky full of stars, the Florida night air is sultry and warm. The hotel’s rooftop pool glitters under the soft lantern lights, and it’s possible there has never been a more perfect moment than this one right now.
It was a long fucking day, standing on the sidelines from warm-ups through the post-game media circus, but I loved every minute of it.
I’ve never been a big football fan, much to Tyler and Uncle Asher’s dismay, but watching the game with my proverbial psychologist’s hat on is an entirely different experience.
Seeing how the team plays as a whole and how each guy plays individually.
How they interact with each other and as a group.
How small changes I want to make could yield big results.
It’s not typical for a team psychologist to travel with the team, watch games from the sidelines, or to be a part of the bigger game-day strategy, but nothing about the way I want to do things is typical.
I want to make a difference. I want to revolutionize the way psychology is used in professional sports.
I want to shine a light on the necessity of treating players’ mental and physical health with equal importance. And hot damn am I good at it.
The nerves I felt on my first day? Totally gone, replaced by a simmering excitement and a great big love for this work I get to do.
Plus, I have chips and queso, a massive bag of kettle corn, and a fountain orange soda which is absolutely the superior way to drink an orange soda.
Everything is coming up Maddy.
When my phone beeps, I grab it, grinning when I see it’s my group chat with my friends.
Smart Bitches
Maya
Mads, did you procure the queso?
Me
[picture of extra-large order of queso and chips]
You bet I did. It was a long fucking day, and I deserve this. I got the one that’s supposed to be for four people, but I’ll be eating the whole thing. I regret nothing.
Sarah
Shit, now I need to order queso. I was going to finish studying and then go to sleep, but now queso is all I can think about.
Emmy
Working on Sunday should be illegal, and I’m fucking starving. I’ll pick up Mexican and come to your house on my way home from the office.
Sophie
Fuck yes, I’m starving too.
Sarah
Have I told you lately that I love you?
Me
Shit, now that song is going to be stuck in my head all night.
Caitlin
It’s better than the Celine Dion you’re usually singing.
Me
How dare you. Celine is the queen, and I will hear no contradictory opinions.
Maya
Emmy, get extra queso. I’m coming over. I’ll make margaritas.
Emmy
On it. It was a good day when you moved in next door to Sarah and Soph.
Sophie
Caitlin, are you with Em? You should come too. Everyone needs Mexican tonight.
Caitlin
Yep. There was an emergency with one of Molly’s clients, and Molly decided she’s suddenly too old to deal with those, so she dumped it on Em and me and went shopping instead. I need like forty-seven tacos.
I snort out a laugh, thinking of Aunt Molly, Sophie’s bold and brilliant mom. This kind of thing is exactly on brand for her.
Sophie
She was really on her game, too. I ended up with three pairs of shoes, a bag, and a new fall coat I love so much I want to marry it.
Me
From one girl who worked on Sunday to another, I think we all deserve this late-night Mexican.
Maya
Wish you were here with us, Mads.
Me
Same, but here isn’t such a bad place to be.
[picture of hotel rooftop pool surrounded by palm trees and cushioned lounge chairs]
Sophie
Holy hell, that’s dreamy.
Emmy
The Renegades really travel in style. But weren’t you supposed to come home tonight?
Me
Yeah, but there are thunderstorms all up and down the east coast and into the Midwest that are supposed to last all night. Every flight was cancelled including, apparently, charter flights. We’ll be back early tomorrow morning instead.
Caitlin
Yeah, it’s pretty bad here. It’s been storming for hours with no end in sight.
Sophie
Maybe you should all just plan to sleep here tonight. I don’t want anyone driving in this more than they have to.
Maya
Fuck yes. Count me in.
Sarah
You know you literally live next door, right? You can walk home.
Maya
Why would I go home when four-fifths of my favorite people are having a sleepover right next door to my house? Besides, I’m still trying to erase last night’s date from hell from my memory, so I need so much tequila. For sure too much to walk in the straight line required to get home.
I laugh again, dunking another chip in queso.
Despite her wild-child nature, Maya is an unrepentant romantic at heart and goes into every single date thinking she’s about to meet the love of her life.
She’s remarkably upbeat every time she realizes her current internet date is not, in fact, her happy ever after, but she’s been my best friend long enough that I know it wears on her.
Me
I think Tyler, Oliver, and Jack would be hurt to know you’re not including them in your list of most favorite people.
Maya
They’ll have to get over it. I’m feeling stabby about the male gender as a whole tonight.
Emmy
Internet dating will do that to you.
Caitlin
None of those assholes are worth your time. You are way too amazing for internet dating.
Maya
Don’t I know it.
Sophie
Maybe we should all move in together and swear off men because, fuck the patriarchy. We don’t need men. We can be like The Golden Girls.
Me
I hate to break it to you, Soph, but The Golden Girls all had men in their lives. They had a ridiculous amount of sex.
Emmy
Fuck, I miss sex. It’s been too long.
Sarah
Seriously, same. Med school is really killing my vibe. I’m either too busy or too tired, and every guy is an aspiring ortho-bro or wants to go into plastics because, boobs, and I just don’t have time for that kind of assholery in my life, you know?
Maya
God, I so completely know. I think the only one of us who doesn’t know is the one currently sprawled on a hotel rooftop eating her weight in queso.
Me
Wait, what did I do?
Sarah
Three weeks ago, you fucked a hot football player for, like, six straight hours. Did you forget?
Emmy
I don’t know how you possibly could have forgotten. You were walking funny for a week.
Me
That was a mistake.
Caitlin
But was it really?
Sophie
No way was it a mistake. Did you see the way he blasted that Tampa defenseman into the air in the fourth quarter earlier today and then grinned like it was nothing? He’s hot as fuck.
In fact, I did see that. I saw it because he shot that grin straight in my direction, and I had to practically squeeze my thighs together because my clit literally throbbed remembering the way he grinned at me like that when I came on his fingers for the third time in a row and he insisted he could give me a fourth.
It took a heroic effort not to sprint onto the field and throw myself at him, but I resisted because we’re friends. And I’m a goddamn motherfucking professional.
I was a little less professional when coffee just the way I like it, six mini boxes of cereal, and milk showed up at my hotel room door early this morning before the game with a note that said Can’t wait to see you on the sidelines.
When that happened, I may or may not have grinned like an idiot and clutched the note to my chest like it was a precious jewel.
But we’re not talking about that.
Me
You watched the game?
Sophie
Hi, have we met? Huge football fan here. I watch every game. Stop trying to change the subject.
Caitlin
Maddy is a master evader.
Maya
Always has been, even when we were kids.
Sarah
There’s no way that night isn’t living rent free in your head.
Emmy
What Sarah said. A man like that isn’t exactly forgettable.
Fucking tell me about it.
Curses to my excellent memory.
And Cam’s excellent…everything.
Me
Fuck, fine, it was the hottest night of my life, and I will live with the memories of it forever, because it can never be repeated.
Maya
Why again?
Before I can start typing out my list of all the reasons I can’t fuck Cam Lowry again, the door to the roof flies open, slamming against the brick wall so hard I jump, my head snapping around, only to see Cam himself walk out onto the patio.
I hate that my first reaction is for my heart to kick up and butterflies to swarm my stomach at the way he looks in black athletic shorts and a Renegades T-shirt, his hair messy and his jaw shadowed with a day’s worth of stubble.
Except I actually don’t hate it at all, and that’s a feeling I’m going to have to dissect later. Much, much later. Maybe never.
My second reaction is to be annoyed that he appeared right in the middle of my moment of Mexican food and orange soda induced Zen, and that I’m going to have to use energy I don’t currently have after the longest day in history trying to resist the irresistible pull I feel towards him.
And my third reaction, the one that overshadows the rest, is concern.
Because the Cam standing ten feet away from me is not the Cam I know.
This Cam freezes, glancing around the roof like he can’t quite figure out how he got there.
His phone is gripped so tightly in one hand that his knuckles turn white, and he shoves his free hand into his hair, tugging hard at the wavy brown strands like he’s looking for something to ground himself.