Chapter Eight
Camille
“
P utain ,” I curse, blowing out a breath, eyeing the purple-ish bruise forming under my left eye. Last night, I got up in the middle of the night to use the washroom and tripped over a shoe I must’ve left out. I fell and whacked my face on my dresser as a result.
I moved here to live on my own and I love making my own choices, but it would’ve been nice to have someone take care of me after that incident.
I push that aside and focus on the fact that I finally get to start shooting some content with the guys today. We’re doing a behind the scenes spring training feature where I’m going to interview the guys and allow fans to get to know them.
I’m also planning for them to partake in doing a partner challenge where they can’t laugh at whatever the other person is telling them or else they get hit with a tortilla. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it brings in a lot of engagement on other schools’ teams’ videos.
As I make my way into the baseball facility, a sense of insecurity washes over me from my conversation with Ryker a few days ago .
I’m still hurt by it. His words hit a sore spot of mine.
What if my ideas are stupid? What if the team hates them? What if I fail miserably at this job and let everyone down?
Maybe I should just go home before I embarrass myself.
I pause outside the door to the weight room where I know the guys are training today and take a long, deep breath.
I got this.
I walk into the room full of men working out and realize what a bad timing this is. How in the hell am I supposed to get any work done when they’re all making grunting noises, sweating, and lifting heavy things?
The answer is I’m not, especially when I see Ryker with his hair in a bun, wearing a gray T-shirt doused in sweat, clinging to his abs and muscular chest. His forearms flex as he completes his set. I’ve never seen a more attractive forearm before. Even more so with the tattoos decorating his right arm.
I have no idea if he has tattoos anywhere else because I’ve never seen him shirtless, but I’d be willing to bet there’s more. I have this urge to ask him about them and study them up close, but I push the urge away, remembering that I’m mad at him and that there’s no hope for us anyway.
We’re far too opposite.
Some of the guys say hi to me, and I keep my head down while I smile and greet them back, hoping that my baseball cap is hiding the bruise. I begin to set up my camera and tripod in the far corner where there’s good lighting and lots of space for the challenge portion when I hear a deep, rough voice coming from behind me.
“Hey.”
Ugh, Ryker.
I thought we had made progress the other day, and the part of me that has a crush on him was thrilled. But then he proceeded to tell me how stupid my ideas were after I went on and on about them and telling him how excited I was.
I turn around, keeping my gaze down but my cheeriness up despite what I’m feeling. “Hey.”
“Look, I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn’t mean to offend you. I felt like a jackass afterward. I just don’t like social media stuff. That’s all. It has nothing to do with your ideas in particular.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, which makes me meet his eyes before thinking twice of it.
It takes me half of a second to realize my mistake because Ryker’s on me instantly. He towers over me in a protective stance, his eyes laser focused on the bruise under my eye while his jaw clenches tightly. “What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s nothing,” I tell him with a smile because it’s the truth. I’m just a bit clumsy.
His breath is shallow, his tone raspy from rage. “Princess, if someone hurt you, I swear to God, I’m going to lose it. No bullshit, tell me the truth.”
A shiver skates down my spine at the protectiveness in his tone, and my romantic heart threatens to run wild with it. “No bullshit, I tripped over a shoe in the middle of the night and hit my face on my dresser.” I huff out a nervous laugh, because honestly, it’s silly. “I’m perfectly fine. You can relax.”
Ryker’s hand lifts like he’s about to touch me then thinks better of it. “Be careful, okay?”
“I will do my very best.” I chuckle, turning to set up the camera. I hate how easily he can draw me back in. The man has me smiling and blushing two seconds after I claimed I was annoyed with him.
“Are we okay? I saw red when I saw the bruise and lost track of my apology,” he says, sounding hesitant, which is unlike him.
I think about it for a moment and turn around to him as an idea pops into my head. “I’ll accept your apology under one condition. ”
His eyebrows narrow, his arms crossing over his chest. “What is it?”
A devious grin forms on my lips as I step in closer to him. “You have to film a stupid video for me.”
Ryker runs a hand over his neatly-trimmed beard, those blue eyes of his burning into mine. “Fine. Only one,” he mumbles.
“I won’t make you go first. Don’t worry. So go finish your workout.” I motion to the weights and turn my attention back onto setting up.
He says nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me for a beat before he goes over to the free weight area.
Once I’m ready, I go up to Cuddy and Noah, asking them to do the challenge for me. They immediately agree, and their reaction makes my body buzz with joy.
I get them set up, positioning them so that they’re in the frame just right. I catch Ryker staring as he trains, that typical scowl on his face. What’s different, though, is the glare he’s shooting his friends.
I ignore it and continue to explain the rules to Cuddy and Noah. They both give me a thumbs-up, indicating they’re ready.
We film for the next hour and it ends up being the funniest thing I’ve witnessed in a while. Cuddy lost, spitting his water out all over Noah after the third hit, which then made Noah spit his water on Cuddy. While we worked, most of the team ventured over to watch. They were all laughing as well, shouting that they wanted to be next.
I filmed a few more rounds, noticing that Ryker was never on the sidelines watching like everyone else was.
He kept to his workout, showing his dedication to his training regimen. I know he’s a top pick for the draft coming up this summer, and I can see why. He works harder than anyone in the room and has the skills to back it upon the field .
It’s why I decide to let him get away with not filming a video for me today.
Once we’re done filming, I start packing up my stuff when Travis, a freshman on the team, approaches me. “Hey, Camille,” he says, smiling at me.
I smile back at him. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just wanted to invite you to a party tonight. Not sure if you heard of it. It’s at the football house.” His voice is kind, making me consider it. I’m not interested in Travis in the slightest, but it might be fun to get out.
“Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks for the invite,” I tell him, smiling at the idea of potentially seeing Theo tonight. I should message Jasmine and see if she’s free as well.
“See you there,” he boasts before strutting out of the weight room.
All the guys are gone now, so I pause to send a quick text to Jasmine.
I smile at my phone as I move to text her back, when I walk into a hard chest. I startle backward, my chest thumping from the unexpectedness because I thought I was alone.
“Camille,” Ryker says my name so softly, it makes my chest ache.
“Sorry.” I attempt to smile at him as I will my heart to calm down, but I’m too flustered.
“I should’ve said something. It’s my fault. Are you okay?” he asks, those blue eyes inquisitive.
“I’m good. Are you going to the party tonight?” I say, changing the subject. I walk out of the weight room and Ryker follows behind me.
“No.”
“Boring.” I stick my tongue out at him. “It’ll be fun. It’s at Theo’s house. Well, the football house. Tomato, tahmato.”
Ryker shakes his head, blowing out a breath in what seems like annoyance.
“Still not going.”
“I’ll have enough fun for both of us then.” I smirk. “See you around, Ryker the biker,” I call out as I walk toward the exit.
I don’t know why I even want to go tonight, but something in my gut is telling me to go. Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life tonight? Who knows. And that’s the beauty of it all, never knowing what’s around the corner waiting for you. My romantic heart hopes it’s Ryker, but the logical part of me knows it’s a useless thing to wish for.
Yet as I get ready, I hope he’s around that corner, waiting to surprise me.