18. Diego
Cassandra slidacross the booth in a skintight emerald green dress and a pair of heels that made me want to lift her over my shoulder and ban her from wearing that anywhere except in my bedroom.
If I thought I could out-petty her, I had been sorely mistaken.
Because a night club should have been the one place I could achieve that. A VIP booth in a crowded club with free-flowing drinks. On a normal night, Trent, Frankie, and I would have had the booth packed with beautiful women, hanging off my every word.
Instead, Cassandra had Trent and Frankie eating out of her hand. My teammates hadn’t so much as glanced at the dance floor, preferring to giggle in the corner like a group of old school pals.
On the field, everything appeared to be going in the right direction, but off the field? Cassandra had me in a tailspin since she tapped my shoulder in the parking lot during preseason. The worst part of it was, I had no intention of stopping it.
A lull in the conversation had Trent looking for a server and Frankie on his phone.
I took the interruption to slide into a seat beside Cassandra. “You know, if you just wanted to chat, it would have been quieter anywhere else.”
She laughed, eyes sparkling in the glint of the strobe lights. “That’s exactly what Frankie said. He said we could go back to his place.”
I frowned. “Okay. Bad idea.”
Her green eyes fluttered out to the crowded dance floor. “I love this song.”
“Are you trying to get me to ask you to dance?”
“Or Frankie. Or Trent. I’m not picky.” She shrugged as if it didn’t make a single difference, a hint of a grin on her face the only sign that maybe she wasn’t so flippant about her dance partner.
“Hell yeah!” Trent set down the bottle of Grey Goose and held out a hand to Cassandra.
I swatted it away. “I’ve got this covered, thanks.”
Trent ignored me, sinking into the seat on the other side of Cassandra and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You know, after Diego is rehabilitated, I was thinking you could play my girlfriend for a bit. Get me out of some trouble.”
Cassandra screwed up her lips, tapping a fingernail against her chin. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, honestly. Diego, how many players do you think I can pretend to date? If I only date one a season, of course.”
“One,” I answered tersely, shooting Trent a warning frown before leading Cassandra onto the dance floor.
“You’re awfully prickly tonight,” she laughed, body swaying to the music as we stopped in the crowd of dancers. “You don’t think it’s a good idea to be Trent’s fake girlfriend next?”
“The two of you would be a PR nightmare.”
She laughed, resting a hand on my chest. My heart rate skyrocketed. “Probably. At least you talk me down occasionally. Trent and I would just encourage each other to take things further. I’d make him bungee jump one weekend, and he’d be off the team. It’d be a mess.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer as a man with two drinks navigated the dancing couples behind her. “Besides, you’re all mine this season.”
She shivered, grip tightening on my shirt. “I’ll try not to let you regret that.”
“Impossible.”
Frankie and Trent didn’t leave us alone for long, holding apology drinks and with new friends in tow. The atmosphere lightened while the bass rocked my chest and sweat formed at my temples. Cassandra closed her eyes, arms up and body rocking against mine.
“Come with me to Vegas,” I called over the music.
She tilted her head back against my chest, ass swaying against my increasingly hard dick. “Yeah?”
“Have you ever been?” She shook her head. “Then you need to come. You can hang out with Lena before the game, and we’ll go out afterward.”
She frowned, eyes flitting back to the booth. “I’m not sure that’s really in my budget right now.”
“I’ll cover it. It’ll be fun.”
Even without a yes, I had already planned out a trip to Las Vegas with Cassandra: gambling, good food, seeing the sights.
“Or I could house-sit for you while you’re gone.”
I grinned with a shake of my head. “No way. You’d just hang around all day playing video games. Besides, you’ll be lonely without me.”
“I would?” Her smile wavered. “I would.”
“Say the word, and I’ll ask Coach Simmons to let you come.”
She laughed. “You need to ask your coach?”
“If I want to buy you a ticket, yeah.”
“They really have you under the microscope, don’t they?”
“I’m worth a lot of money to the Breakers and my sponsors.” I snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to behave. No wearing Trent’s jerseys, or Frankie’s.”
“How about Noa?”
I laughed. “Slightly better, but, no.”
“I doubt Lena would appreciate that, anyway.” She sighed, pressing her forehead to my chest as she rocked. “Okay.”
“Okay? I’m offering you a free trip to Las Vegas with the NFL’s most bangable player according to some gossip site.”
She threw her head back with a laugh that made my chest tight. “Most bangable player? Well, how can I turn that down?”
“It’d be really hard.”
“One condition.” She stilled in my arms. “You let me take you out somewhere.”
“That’s ridiculou?—”
“No, I get to plan one thing for us. It’s the least I can do.”
I ducked my head lower, inhaling clover and orange. “Is it disc golf? Rematch?”
She rolled her eyes. “You really want me to beat you in another state? You won’t even have home course advantage.”
“Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”
She swayed, tipping her head up with a grin. “I’m going to make you regret that.”
* * *
“You look nervous.” Noa stopped mid-aisle on his way to the front of the plane, cocking his head with a frown.
“I’m not nervous,” I grumbled, eyes flitting to the bank of clouds outside the window. “Why would you think I’m nervous?”
He shrugged, sliding into the empty seat beside me. “All the interest in Cassandra, maybe? Sending her off to the game on her own? I don’t know. Maybe you’re just scared we’re about to lose our game.”
I huffed. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“They’ll be fine, Lena and Cassandra.”
“No offense to your fiancée, Noa, but I’m not sure she’s capable of keeping Cassandra out of trouble.”
Noa grinned. “Probably not, but I like Cassandra. She keeps you on your toes.”
“I don’t exactly need someone to keep me on my toes. I have plenty of people for that.”
“And yet, you still asked her to be your girlfriend for the season. How’s Becca taking it?”
I groaned. “Not well. She wasn’t a fan of the halftime kiss.”
Becca had left a long, angry message for me after the game. And she’d had some good points. I’d dragged Cassandra into a world she knew nothing about, exposed her to the press, and asked her to sign a contract I was increasingly concerned she hadn’t even read. And while Becca didn’t come out and accuse me directly, she implied that I had taken advantage of her sister’s good nature and general sense of adventure.
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bother me and if I didn’t share the same concerns. Maybe I should have just asked Cassandra out and accepted the consequences rather than tricking her into pretending to date me all season. Even if it didn’t feel like pretending anymore.
“Everyone’s a fan of that halftime kiss,” Noa laughed, swiping through his phone to a group message with his family. On the screen was the picture of Cassandra and me, only with added text. Over my picture, someone had typed “Me” and over Cassandra they’d put, “Tacos.”
“Charming.” I’d seen different variations of the meme and so had Coach Simmons. I received an official warning to stay out of the stands with permission to bring Cassandra to Vegas. I’d booked a hotel suite and bought enough tickets to shows to keep her out of trouble until after the game.
“You know, that whole, ‘Imma keep my head down this season,’ thing isn’t really working out for you, is it?”
I groaned. “Not even a little.”
“Do you regret it?”
I laughed. “Not even a little.”
And I meant that, too. As much trouble as Cassandra seemed to get me in, I enjoyed being with her. I enjoyed being reminded that things could just be normal. That I could relax. That I could have a little fun that wasn’t predicated on the celebrities I knew and the hotspots I hung out in.
“And you’re going to stay cool during the game, no matter what jersey she shows up in?”
I ripped my eyes away from the window with a frown. “What do you know?”
“Nothing.” Noa grinned. “Yet, but I’ll let you know if Lena gives anything away.”
“You’re not supposed to be chatting with Lena,” I chided.
He waved a meaty hand. “They can pry my phone out of my cold, dead hand. I’m saying good night to my fiancée before bed. This ‘women weaken legs’ bullshit drives me nuts.”
I suspected it would drive him even more nuts after he was married. Except for Rob, who pulled both seniority and single dad status, most of the guys on the team traveled to away games solo. Mila, Rob’s daughter, flew with us when she was in diapers, but now officially a kindergartener, she stayed behind when our games interfered with her school schedule.
Most of the players went straight home after, but Las Vegas was different. A Monday night game with Tuesday and Wednesday off, more than a handful of players extended their hotel stays and flew in some friends for a mid-week break.
Of course, Trent, Frankie or Cole wouldn’t worry about their friends getting into trouble the two nights leading up the game. They’d just join them on Tuesday, listening to the stories from the previous nights with a laugh before going out to make some trouble of their own.
I didn’t want Cassandra getting into any trouble. More specifically, I didn’t want her getting into trouble with anyone besides me.