Chapter 11
Teddy
Getting my ass back to the stadium was my only goal after that shoot. The second set had a lot of individual shots of Connor and me, so I had a chance to breathe.
But I had way too much adrenaline to burn off. Lucky for me, I knew the training schedule well enough that I’d be able to avoid any more crossovers with the Knights for at least the next few hours and that the gym would largely be empty this afternoon.
The drive was a blur. I barely remember traffic lights or turns, just the thud of my pulse still echoing from being near him.
His voice in my ear.
His hands on my waist.
That stupid grin.
By the time I parked, my jaw hurt from clenching it.
Inside the gym, the familiar clang of weights and the sharp tang of rubber floors helped a little. I changed fast and tried like hell not to let my thoughts wander. I ran until my legs burned and then ran some more.
But the second my palms hit the barbell, his hands were on me again. The same spot, like he’d left a fingerprint on my ribs. I dropped the weight harder than necessary, the clatter making a few of the girls glance over.
“I’m fine,” I called, breathing hard.
Micah strolled around the corner a little while later, expression far too smug for someone who hadn’t endured a six a.m. PR circus. “How’d it go, Captain Covergirl?”
I glared at her reflection in the mirror. “Dear god, never call me that again.”
She perched on the bench, chin propped on her hand. “I caught the Buzz post,” she said, setting her clipboard down. “Congrats on breaking the internet, by the way.”
I froze mid-stretch, breathless. “What post?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”
When the confused expression didn’t leave my face, she tapped her phone and turned it toward me.
The thumbnail alone made my stomach twist—his hand on my waist, my head tilted toward him, eyes locked like we were about to kiss. A behind-the-scenes-moment I had no idea anyone would be posting.
“Oh, for—” I hissed through my teeth, scrolling. Thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. Enemies-to-lovers energy, he looks obsessed, where can I find a man to look at me like that.
Micah winced, but only for a second. “PR gold, though.”
“I don’t care about that right now.” I passed her phone back and threw my towel over my shoulder. My blood was boiling, and considering it would be the second time today that was happening, I needed a break.
“You look great,” she offered. “He looks like he wants to ruin your life in the best way. It’s a vibe.”
I glared. “You’re not helping.”
“Not trying to.” She paused, then added gently, “You okay?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. It was just PR. A job.”
“Mm.”
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re just talking like someone who’s trying really hard to believe what they’re saying.”
I exhaled sharply, grabbed my water bottle, and tipped my head back.
The water didn’t help. Neither did pretending.
Because underneath the embarrassment, the comments, the frustration—it was still there.
The pulse that hit when he looked at me.
The pull that made me forget the room around us.
I would absolutely not give in to whatever my body wanted to do with Connor O’Riley’s.
I couldn’t. It was just a physical feeling that would evaporate the less time we spent together.
Biological nonsense. I needed to remember why I didn’t like him.
Right, okay, this was easy: list all the things I didn’t like about him.
One: he was arrogant. Except, was he anymore? I’d seen a different side lately and glimpses of a softer side to him.
Two: he was a distraction. Still true.
Three: he was competitive and that… what? It wasn’t a surprise. It was something that made me hot all over. It used to simply fuel my academic desires, but now, I’m not sure what it does.
Four: he… shit, was I running out of reasons?
No, he was still something. Infuriating. Annoying. Something complicated. Something I absolutely didn’t have time for.
“I’m going for a run,” I said, even though my legs still throbbed from already doing that.
Micah tilted her head. “You sure that’s a good idea? You just did a shoot, now training—”
“I need it.”
She sighed, but I was already out the door, needing the cool air to soothe me.
The first breath of it hit my lungs. It was warm, but not too warm, and I took a long pull of the salty air. I started down the path behind the gym, feet pounding the pavement, every stride a way to outrun the morning—the cameras, the noise, the goddamn heat still under my skin.
I wouldn’t let myself feel anything for Connor. It could jeopardize so much more than my first season as captain. What kind of example would I be setting for my team by giving in to a distraction like him? It would have to stay within the realm of PR.
The more air that swished around me as I ran, the clearer my head got. My legs found a rhythm, my chest loosened, and for the first time today, everything settled into the way my body moved.
I rounded the corner by the east side of the pitch, fast enough that I didn’t register the shadow until it was too late. A solid shoulder clipped mine, hard, and my next step faltered.
“Whoa—Shit—” the figure gasped.
A strong hand caught my elbow before I stumbled and went down. But I knew that voice. That’s the one I’d been trying to forget since I left him.
Of course it had to be him. It couldn’t have been any other member of the Knights. One that didn’t make my body respond the way he did.
Of course the universe couldn’t let me have an uninterrupted lap without throwing Connor O’Riley directly into my path.
His fingers were steady where they gripped my elbow, thumb brushing my skin once before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
“Easy there, Captain,” he said in his gruff voice. Had it always been that deep?
I snatched my arm back. “I’m fine.” Clearly.
He huffed and moved his arms to fold over his chest, as though he was waiting for something. Melting under the heat of that stare would be too easy; it was potent and male, and more than anything, it pissed me off.
“What? Do you need something?”
His eyebrow lifted. “You tell me. You nearly took me out. Figured that kind of exit came with a reason.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I was trying to escape the internet, but apparently, you’re part of that problem too.”
That got a crooked smile out of him. “Ah. You saw it.”
“Oh, you mean the viral masterpiece of my humiliation currently making the rounds on Buzz’s social media?” I bit out. “Yeah, hard to miss.”
He shifted his weight, mouth twitching like he was fighting a laugh. “I call it marketing genius. Half the country thinks we’re the next big power duo.”
“Which is exactly the problem.” I crossed my arms, ignoring how close he still was. “We’re supposed to be professionals, not whatever fantasy the PR team just decided to post.”
“Professionals who happen to have chemistry,” he said lightly. “You can’t fake that, Sloane. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
The nerve of him. I didn’t want to think about Connor having chemistry with anyone, least of all me. “You really think this is about chemistry? That photo isn’t a win for me, Connor. For you, it’s a headline. For us, for me, it’s a risk.”
His smile faltered. “Risk?”
“Yeah.” I folded my arms tighter, ignoring the way my pulse kicked.
I was on the precipice of a breakdown, and he unfortunately was caught in my firing line.
“You get called confident.” I stab at his chest. “I get called a distraction. There’s a difference, and I don’t have the luxury of forgetting that. ”
He shifted, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “You really think a photo’s going to damage your career? It’s just a photo, Teddy.”
“It’s not about me. It’s not just a photo—” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to.
“This is our inaugural season. Half the world still doesn’t take women’s rugby seriously, and now there’s a picture of me pressed against you trending with a hashtag about us being together.
That’s not coverage—it’s clickbait. I didn’t work my ass off to get here for that. ”
For a second, he didn’t have an answer. Then he scratched his jaw. “Didn’t think of it like that.”
“Yeah, well…” I said, trying to steady my breathing.
“We’ve fought to be seen as athletes first. And now our first big article isn’t about the team; it’s about me standing too close to you.
” I heaved all the air out, let my lungs suffer for a moment, then inhaled again.
My dad would see that article, I had no doubt, and it would serve the narrative he very much believed, alongside the very small amount of faith he had in my career.
“I just thought…” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “It was good press. For both teams. People talking, sharing it—more eyes on rugby.”
“It’s not the kind of attention we need,” I said, and my eyes burned with frustration. Sex and relationships sold, I understood that, but I never wanted to be at the forefront of it all. Especially with… Especially with an O’Riley.
“Then I’ll fix it.”
My head snapped up. “You can’t fix PR.”
“I can try,” he said simply. “I’ll talk to the Knights’ media rep, make sure they shift focus back to the campaign, take the heat off the shoot and move it back to the sport. You shouldn’t have to shoulder the fallout. We can make a statement if you want to redirect the narrative.”
It shouldn’t have caught me off guard, but it did—the sincerity in his voice, the absence of ego, even though I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I’d been coupled with him, and everyone already thought we were sleeping together, so the damage was done.
And yet, the same feelings flooded me from when he got me that damn tank top earlier today. I didn’t know this Connor at all.
“Why?” I asked, heat coating my words. “Why do you even care? Why are you being nice to me?”
“Because you care.” He gave a small shrug, a hint of that infuriating smile returning—but this time, it wasn’t cocky. “And because I’m not the bastard you think I am.”
My gaze narrowed.
I wasn’t used to this side of Connor. There were plenty of times in college when he could’ve opted to help me out, but he always chose the one-up.
His ego and need for success always took front row, which is why we were so perfect against each other.
We would fight and push until one of us was victorious.
It was also why, in the end, he did one-up me, and I hadn’t been able to let that go.
He was my benchmark for four years—the one I measured myself against, the standard I refused to fall below.
And now here he was, saying all the right things, making it sound like he actually meant them. The sport needed male allies, but could I trust him? More importantly, did I want to?
Maybe that was worse because I couldn’t correlate the two people.
And that’s what they were, two different people.
This Connor was, dare I say it, more mature, softer somehow, whereas I was harder, more difficult.
I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, that guarding myself was second nature now.
Was it the fight for the sport that had hardened me?
Either way, now wasn’t the time or company to be debating that.
“You don’t get to swoop in and act like you’re the patron saint of women’s rugby. You didn’t care in college, don’t pretend to care now.”
His eyebrows knit. “You think I didn’t care?”
“I think…” I swallowed, heat rising to my cheeks. “I think you cared when it benefited you. But what is your real reason for today? To be the hero again? To take the win from me?”
Something flickered across his face. Recognition of the memory I’d dragged out between us.
“That was years ago, Teddy. And I’m not trying to beat you now. I’m trying to help clean up the mess.” He let out a breath, steadying himself, and my arms instinctively crossed over my body. I would let him have this, though, see if he really could help at all. Right now, I didn’t believe it.
“Fine,” I said, even though it didn’t feel fine. “See what you can do.”
“Fine,” he repeated.
And that was as much as either of us was going to give.