2. Jason Kingsley
Chapter two
Jason Kingsley
My mom used to say that my puppy dog eyes could get me anything I wanted. I’m hoping that’s still the case today.
“Come on, Bianca, help me out this one time,” I say, leaning against the cubicle wall. Bianca is one of the social media interns that Willow manages. I’ve snuck into their office space to recruit her to help surprise Willow.
“If I help you, I know it’s not going to be just this once. Next time you’ll say, but you did it last time. ”
I grin. She’s right. “All I want is for you to sneak a package of Twizzlers into her backpack.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“There’s no way I’m getting anywhere near her backpack without her seeing. I can’t ruin my streak of her not seeing me hide them.”
“If she sees me she’ll fire me,” Bianca says.
I shoot her a disbelieving look.
“Okay, she won’t fire me.” Her blonde bangs lift off her forehead as she huffs. “But she’ll give me that disappointed look that’s somehow worse than the one my mom gave me that time she caught me sneaking out in high school.”
I chuckle. “I’ll buy your coffee for the next week if you do it.”
“You’re filthy rich. Buy me coffee for the next year.”
“A month,” I compromise.
Her brows shoot up in surprise. “Deal!”
Paying for a month of overpriced coffee is not the smartest financial decision. But when the idea of hiding one in her backpack came to mind, I couldn’t let it go. That tends to be how I operate in general. It can get me in trouble.
“You’re the best. I’ll send you a gift card later today. Just let me know if it starts to run out, and I’ll refill it.”
I pass the pack of watermelon Twizzlers over to her. Ever since I found out the candy was Willow’s favorite, I’ve been hiding them in various places for her to find. I also put little notes on them. Cheesy jokes or puns or references to conversations we’ve had. Today I’ve attached a five-dollar bill to the package, in reference to our not-date last night.
“I don’t know why you do this,” Bianca says with a sigh, setting the package beside her keyboard.
I don’t either at this point. It’s been weeks now, and nothing has come of it. Willow still seems to hate me. She thanks me for the candy, but it doesn’t work to soften her. Neither does complimenting her or participating in any and all social media trends she brings to the team. It feels like no matter what I do, she still sees me as an enemy.
“I like a challenge,” I answer, and while that’s true, it goes deeper than that. I want Willow to like me because I like her . She’s funny and smart and drop-dead gorgeous.
I will never go out with you. I wince as her cutting words come to mind. Yeah, that hurt. She must really hate me if she thinks I’m worse than the moron she was with last night.
“Willow is certainly that.”
I laugh at Bianca’s words. Willow runs a tight ship, but I also know she takes care of everyone who works for and with her. Last week I overheard her telling an intern to go home and study for their exam instead of staying for the game. And there are plenty of other instances just like that, all of which have made me want to know her more.
The sound of a door opening makes me lift my head. Willow walks in, a Diet Coke in one hand and what looks to be a sub sandwich in the other. Her eyes narrow when she spots me.
“Don’t let her see the candy,” I whisper under my breath to Bianca. She snatches the Twizzlers off her desk and throws them in her laptop bag. I murmur thanks and then head toward the door.
“What are you doing in here, Jason?” Willow asks when our paths cross.
It’s game day today, so she’s got on a maroon Homewood Lions sweatshirt. Her long hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, a thin white ribbon tied into a bow secured around it. She always looks amazing, but there’s something about seeing her in team colors that makes my blood heat.
“I was just chatting, making friends,” I reply with a lazy grin.
“Make different ones. Stay away from my interns.”
“Isn’t it a good thing for us to have a relationship? They’re more likely to get better content if they know the players,” I argue, because I can’t help it. It’s fun working her up, even if it derails my purpose of getting her to like me.
She rolls her eyes. “I highly doubt you flirting with Bianca will help her get better content.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Are you jealous, Willow?”
Her eyes widen. “Absolutely not.” She starts to walk past me, heading toward her office. The documentary crew filming the team’s road to the playoffs is waiting to interview me, but I have time for this.
“Are you sure? You seem a little jealous.”
She huffs in exasperation. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t want Bianca quitting when you break her heart.”
I frown. “I wasn’t flirting with her, but who says I’d break her heart?”
“Every girl you’ve ever dated, Casanova.”
Nicknames are usually a good sign in a relationship, but that one feels more like a thinly veiled insult.
“Maybe they broke my heart,” I say.
She rolls her eyes again. “Go get ready for the game. I have work to do.”
“Is that why you don’t like me? Because I’ve been on a few dates?”
She stops walking and glares at me. “I have a whole host of reasons why I don’t like you, but yes, your disregard for women’s emotions is on the list.”
My eyebrows draw together. I’ve been known to date around, sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever truly hurt someone. At least not on purpose.
“Is that what you really think?”
Another intern–Cody, I think–walks over to us, a tablet in the crook of his arm.
Willow sighs. “I don’t have time for this. I need to prep for the game.”
I want to press her, but it’s clear now is not the time. Instead, I nod and turn away. She immediately starts talking to Cody as if my presence doesn’t matter to her at all. I wish it didn’t bother me so much. I’ve been trying to solve the mystery of her dislike for some time. Now the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place, and I don’t think I like the picture.
“We’ve got this game in the bag,” Calvin, one of the wide receivers on the team, says on my left as we stand on the sideline. There are two minutes left in the fourth quarter. Our defense is on the field, and if they can keep the Hounds from scoring, we win.
“If we can keep them out of the end zone for one more play,” I reply.
A flash of long dark hair draws my attention. Willow is nearby, her phone strapped to some kind of equipment that keeps it steady even as she walks. She must be capturing some highlights. I wonder if she got any of me when I threw a sixty-yard pass for a touchdown earlier.
Movement on the field jerks my attention back to our defensive line. Their quarterback launches the ball in a last-ditch effort to score. One of our cornerbacks, Jamal, intercepts it, then immediately drops to one knee, ending the play and securing our win.
“Yes!” I pump my fist. Calvin smacks my back and whoops.
Our undefeated streak remains. My face breaks out into a grin as I jog onto the field with my team. A reporter runs up to me, beginning the onslaught of interviews. The documentary crew trails behind me. It’s going to be a long night, but I don’t even care because this was a huge win.
“The Hounds are a great team,” I tell one reporter. “I’m proud of my team for finishing strong and securing the victory.”
After a whirlwind of on-field questions and celebratory cheers with my teammates, I’m guided to the press room for a more extensive interview. On my way through the tunnel I spot Willow, her back against the wall and phone positioned to film the team as we walk back in. I wink at her as I pass. She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips. I know she’s happy about the win too. No matter how she feels about me, she loves the team. It’s one of my favorite things about her.
I wish I could quell her animosity toward me. I think if I did, we’d be good friends. Maybe even something more…But for now, I’ll settle for post-game smiles and quiet thank-yous after she finds her candy.