Chapter 4
FOUR
ISAAC
Practice was brutal today, but it always is this time of year.
We have less than six weeks before our season opener, and we have a lot of work to do.
By the time I make it home, my muscles are screaming.
I toss my keys into the bowl by the front door and grab a bottle of water from the fridge before connecting my tablet to the surround sound and blasting my favorite boy-band playlist through the entire house.
Backstreet Boys fills the room. I drop onto the couch and open the greasy bag, pulling out three burgers, two large fries and an apple pie.
This is the perfect end to a long day. My favorite music, greasy fast food, and the most comfortable couch I’ve ever sat on.
I’ll be lucky to make it past eight o’clock before passing out from sheer exhaustion.
While I tear through my burgers, visions of a sexy smile flash in my head as I think about the man I almost clobbered today—tall and lean with short, brown hair, perfectly-trimmed facial hair, brown eyes, absolutely gorgeous.
He was dressed to impress in khaki pants and a blue polo that looked amazing against his pale skin.
I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind.
He invaded my thoughts during practice, in the shower, while Coach gave us his after-practice lecture, driving home, and now as I eat dinner.
I have to find out who he is. I hope he is a new employee, and I will run into him again.
I’d ask Carter Masters since the guy was with his mom, but Carter doesn’t know I’m gay.
No one knows and I’d like to keep it that way.
Meeting guys is almost impossible as one of the most well-known NFL players in the country.
I do my best to keep a low profile. I rarely go out and haven’t dated in years.
I have no desire for my private life to be blasted all over the internet and that’s exactly what will happen if my secret gets out.
There has to be a way for me to figure out who this guy is and still keep my personal life private.
I try to keep thoughts of that gorgeous man out of my head as I clean up my mess, take the trash out and wash the dishes I left in the sink this morning.
Instead of returning to the couch, I drag myself down the hallway to the master suite.
If I sit back on the couch, I’ll wake up there in the morning and that’s the last thing my body needs.
My frame is much too big to stretch out on the couch and I always regret it when I fall asleep there.
My phone dings with a text as I get comfortable on my California king bed.
Tyson: Come out with us. Heading to South Beach to hit some clubs.
I consider ignoring his text, but if I do, I’ll catch hell tomorrow. Who am I kidding? I’m going to catch hell when I turn him down again. I’m all for a good party, but not during the season when practice is kicking my ass.
Me: Not tonight. I’m already kicked up with some trash TV.
It’s not really a lie. I haven’t actually landed on a show, but I’m scrolling through my options.
Tyson: Come on, Old Man. You’re the baby of the team, but act like my grandpa.
Tyson: Actually, I think my grandpa parties more than you.
Tyson is always teasing me about being old. In fact, he coined the nickname ‘Old Man’ about two years ago and it stuck. If it wasn’t so damn true, it might piss me off.
Me: Guilt me all you want. It’s not going to work.
Me: Call grandpa. He can take my place.
Tyson responds with a bunch of laughing emojis before letting me off the hook with a final text.
Tyson: Fine. Next time, you’re joining us. You gotta come out at least once before our first game.
Me: Deal.
I agree because he’s right. I enjoy hanging out with the team, but I won’t do it once the games start. If I don’t go out with them soon, it will be February before I let them drag me to a club.
I silence my phone and put it on the charger for the night.
Nothing caught my attention, so I click off the TV since and turn off the lights with the remote next to my bed.
No use staying awake. I might as well get some sleep.
Tomorrow is going to be another long day of conditioning and practice and I absolutely love every second of it.