reading the game
VAMPIRE BY OLIVIA RODRIGO
I don’t see him until it’s too late. I turn the corner past the elevators and nearly barrel straight into Matt. I could smell his aftershave before I even saw him, like the most pompous Pomeranian prancing around with a jingle collar no one asked to hear.
“Addison,” he drawls, like we’re old friends. “Always a pleasure.”
“I have somewhere to be,” I say flatly, brushing past him.
“Alan’s office?” he guesses, stepping into my path like he’s not crossing a line. “That’s where I just came from.”
Great.
That’s probably why I’ve been summoned to Alan’s office. Matt probably just told him everything—from what he saw at the gala to his wildly inaccurate version of our shared history together.
I reach for his sleeve and yank him back a few steps into a shadowed corner, just out of view from the lobby of the training facility.
“If you wanted to be alone with me, all you had to do was ask,” he says smoothly, flashing a grin he probably practices in the mirror.
“Would you shut up?” My voice comes out icier than I mean it to. Or maybe I do mean it.
Matt raises his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, tiger.”
God, fuck him. Even that tiny gesture is intended to make me feel like an irrational, angry woman.
I step in closer, toe-to-toe with him. “What you did to Oliver during that interview? That was disgusting, Matt. Even for you.”
He blinks, slow and deliberate. He’s enjoying this. I hate him.
“Oh, you mean where he said you weren’t anything special?”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t care about that. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Do I?” His smirk sharpens.
“You went after his family. His brother.”
Matt smirks, proof he knows exactly what kind of wound he twisted his knife into. “I was doing my job.”
“Your job is journalism, Matt. Not cruelty.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “He’s a public figure, Addison. It goes with the territory.”
“God, you’re still doing it,” I say, shaking my head, half in disbelief, half in disgust.
“What?” he asks, as if he’s tired of me.
“Justifying the way you carve people up for sport and call it your job. You didn’t ask a question. You weaponized a trauma. You dug into something deeply personal and made him relive it in front of an audience. You exploited his pain. You’re not a reporter, Matt. You’re a parasite.”
Matt’s eyes narrow. “You know, I’ve always admired your passion, Addison.”
“You don’t get to talk about Oliver. You don’t know him, you don’t know this club, and you sure as hell don’t know me.” I step back, my shoulders squared and my voice clear. “Now get out of my way. I have a meeting to get to.”
I sit across from Alan’s desk, hands folded tightly in my lap, trying not to spiral.
We meet just about every morning to go over the agenda and team initiatives, but there’s usually a host of other staff in the meeting, including Matt.
But today, it’s just Alan and me. The absence of anyone else makes the room feel smaller.
He called me to his office and said he had something important to discuss, and I immediately began to spiral. Matt must have told him what he saw. It would be a textbook Matt move to report me to my boss for sleeping with one of the players.
Alan slides a cup of tea toward me, and what normally feels like a friendly gesture now feels like a last meal.
He says something about the season drawing to a close. Something about the remarkable journey the team has taken, but I don’t hear it. I nod, but I can’t focus.
I know why I’m here.
I know Matt. I know the look in his eyes when he added everything up at the gala.
I know his motives behind his last interview with Oliver.
He probably told Alan everything, while conveniently leaving out any details that would paint him in a negative light.
I know deep in my soul that he would love nothing more than to burn down the life I’ve been building, but what I don’t understand is why he’s not in the room to watch me burst into flames.
But if I’m going down, it won’t be without a fight.
“I just need to say something,” I blurt, before I can stop myself.
Alan’s brows lift, mildly surprised.
Before he can say anything, I take a deep breath.
“If this is about Matt…”
Alan tilts his head at me. “Matt?”
Shit. Did he really not say anything? It’s too late for me to turn around now.
“I don’t know what he’s told you, but I want you to hear our history from me.
” I take a pause, trying to find the right words that will explain the situation without disclosing my arrangement with Oliver.
“I know you’re aware I have a history with Matt, but I never explained it.
I didn’t want to have to, but now it feels necessary.
Matt and I dated for years. We broke up not long before I accepted this position, actually.
It wasn’t… it wasn’t good. I was controlled through fear and manipulation.
I stayed longer than I should have, and that’s not something I’m proud of, but I am proud of finally walking away. ”
Each word scrapes my throat as it leaves my mouth, but I keep going.
“I came here for a fresh start. And then he followed. I’ve done everything in my power to keep it professional.
I’ve kept my distance and stayed focused.
But I know what he’s capable of, and I know how he spins stories and plants seeds.
I’ve swallowed down my feelings for months now, but I can’t let him turn this into a narrative where I’m weak or unstable. ”
Alan is quiet for a beat. He doesn’t look away from me.
“Addison,” he finally says, “why didn’t you tell me this when we brought him on?”
I stare at my untouched cup of tea.
“I wanted to be seen as a professional, not as the girl with baggage. I didn’t want someone to think I needed protecting. And I hated the idea of the players, the staff, and even you, seeing me as fragile.”
“I don’t see you as fragile, Addison,” Alan says, leaning forward slightly. “I hate him too.”
My eyes shoot up.
“What?”
He’s smiling at me. “I’ve been biting my tongue for months.
He’s arrogant. He’s so self-important he thinks we all work for him.
” Alan exhales through his nose. “I’ve been swallowing it for months because you were leading by such a good example.
I could tell from that meeting where we told you he was coming that there must be some history there, but I figured if you could handle it with such grace, I could too. ”
The knot in my chest pulls tighter.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” I whisper, almost ashamed.
“I wish you had,” Alan says, his voice so tender it almost breaks me. “I could have stood beside you instead of just watching you bear it alone.”
His words nearly break me. They’re unbelievably sweet, but to be honest, I didn’t go through this alone.
Alan leans forward. “But that’s not what this meeting is about.”
“It’s not?”
“Addison, you’ve been incredible this season,” Alan says eventually, voice full of pride and flashing a genuine smile.
“You’ve handled the press with ease—and I know that’s not a simple task with Carlos on the squad.
You’ve elevated the club’s brand and reputation.
It’s more than I could have asked for, truly. ”
“Thank you,” I say, managing a small, polite smile.
“Now, I know you only signed on for the year,” he says, clasping his hands together. “And I know the job isn’t done yet, but I’d be a fool if I didn’t try to keep you.”
“What?” My heart thuds painfully loud. I almost can’t even hear Alan.
He smiles and slides a folder across the desk to me. I flip it open and inside is another contract, crisp and new.
“Think about it,” he says. “We’d love to have you back next season.”
I don’t even know what to say.
I made rules for a reason.
One season. No strings. No staying past the point where something starts to root too deeply.
It wasn’t arbitrary. It wasn’t some cute, spontaneous decision I made on a whim. It was survival. It was how I got out. How I learned to stand on my own two feet again without anyone else’s voice in my head telling me who to be.
And it worked.
I built something here. A life. A version of myself that isn’t shaped by fear or control or someone else’s expectations.
My grip tightens slightly on the edge of the folder.
Staying would be easy.
That’s the dangerous part.
Because staying wouldn’t just be about the job. It would be about him. Oliver blurs every single one of my rules. He looks at me like I’m his entire universe, and in those moments, I let myself believe this thing could last.
But it couldn't.
We never promised anything beyond the end of the season.
And I won’t build a life around something that hasn’t been chosen—clearly, deliberately—by both of us.
Not again.
If Oliver wants something more, he’ll say it. And if he doesn’t… then I still have to choose myself.
Even if it hurts.
“Alan, I… I really appreciate the offer. I just—I’ve always planned to leave after this season.”
His smile falls just slightly, but he recovers fast. “Addison, I get it. I know you had your plan when you came here, and you’ve more than delivered. All I’m asking is that you don’t shut the door on us today. Please, just think about it. Give me an answer by the end of the season.”
I exhale a slow, tight breath.
Everything inside me screams no, but Alan deserves more than an instant-reply, so I nod once.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll give you an answer by the end of the season.”
I smile, pretending I’m really going to think about it. But in my heart, I already know I’m leaving. Because staying would mean admitting I want something more. It would mean choosing Oliver and risking him not choosing me back.