Chapter Thirteen #2
“You’re not a jerk,” I said reflexively. “Don’t be mean to my friend.”
His dimple made a fleeting appearance before his expression turned serious again. “Is this why you’re so protective of your privacy? Your followers may know your face, but they don’t know you. And the real Sofia is someone wonderful.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I released a shaky breath. “You can’t say nice things like that to me.”
Alex went still, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
“Why not?” he asked softly.
I shook my head, not wanting to say anything more.
I was convinced that if I tried to open my mouth, I would confess all my forbidden, lovesick emotions.
Our friendship had become important to me, and I wouldn’t be able to stomach it when he pulled away after learning the truth of my feelings for him.
Alex shifted in his seat until he faced me, and his gaze felt like a caress to the side of my face.
“You know how you don’t like it when I insult myself?
Well, I hate it when you make yourself smaller.
I’ve seen you do it with your parents, and I’ve repeatedly seen you do it with Caitlin. But you’re not going to do it with me.”
Like a magnet—no, like the gravitational pull of a gas giant—I lifted my gaze to Alex’s stalwart one. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a dark-haired young woman appeared behind him, clutching an iPad and biting her lip.
“Alex, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you mind reading this caption for the joint Instagram and TikTok posts?”
Closing his eyes for a second, Alex turned to her, an amiable smile softening his expression. “Hey, Steph. I’m more than happy to look at it if you need an extra set of eyes, but I trust your judgment. If you think it looks good, I’m sure it does.”
Steph, who looked no more than twenty-three or twenty-four, rocked back on her heels. “Oh. Um, I’m just so used to getting every caption or copy approved, it’s become my default to ask.”
“Totally understandable. But I trust you, so…” Alex winged up a brow. “Don’t you think it’s time to start trusting yourself?”
A pretty blush spread across Steph’s cheeks, and she nodded. “Yeah, maybe it is.”
Alex nodded, his mien patient. “So do you want me to look over the caption?”
“No,” Steph said immediately, waving a hand. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“No worries at all. If you or the team need my help, I’m here.
” His gaze slid to me, and his eyes went wide.
“Sofia, my apologies for being rude. This is Steph. She’s a digital content producer here in the department, and is leading the Sting ’Em campaign during playoff home games. Steph, this is my friend Sofia.”
Steph and I exchanged friendly nods before she excused herself and dashed away.
Alex and I were silent for a spell, watching as the arena filled with excited fans, a mix of popular jock rock and pop songs pulsing through the speakers.
Several people either waved hello to Alex or stopped by our seats to say hi, shaking his hand and asking how he was doing.
Some of them were obviously Scorpions staff members, but some appeared to be fans.
Probably season ticket holders, I guessed.
And many of them were women. Women who smiled broadly at him and touched his arm while they laughed.
Older women with gray hair, jewels on their fingers, and expensive designer bags on their arms. But some were young, admiration in their eyes as they stared at him.
Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Alex practically oozed confidence, but in an easy manner that felt welcoming instead of predatory.
Paired with his dark good looks, he was devastating.
But I had no claim on him, so I didn’t rush to join his conversations or press myself into his side.
The women still sized me up, their eyes tracing over my face and body before bouncing between me and Alex, as if gauging our relationship.
And while I endeavored to remain casual, Alex turned to me consistently to ensure I was included.
Introduced me to everyone who approached and shared tidbits on their connections with each other.
Yet it was when he stretched his arm across the back of my chair, the move casual but almost proprietary, that I melted.
“I’m sorry we haven’t had many opportunities to talk. I see these people all the time.” Alex scratched his neck. “But for some reason they seem more keen to talk than normal.”
“It seems pretty obvious why,” I said, chuckling when he quirked his mouth in confusion. “Because I’m here with you. Everyone thinks we’re on a date, so they’re being metiche.”
Alex jerked back his head. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it makes sense. I don’t usually come to the games with anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m usually working.” He lifted a shoulder before growing serious. “I hope it hasn’t made you uncomfortable.”
It did, but only because I wanted so desperately to have a legitimate reason to be uncomfortable. Instead, I shook my head, plastering a bright smile on my lips. “No, not at all.”
Alex’s gaze moved over my face, and he looked away.
It seemed appropriate to redirect the conversation. “Have you thought of inviting Caitlin to a game? She’s not a big sports person, but I’d bet she’d have fun.”
“Caitlin?” Alex blinked. And then blinked again. “I hadn’t—”
The music abruptly shifted in volume and tone, and the lights in the arena went out.
Cast in sudden darkness, fans clapped and whistled until a spotlight shone on the tunnel next to the players’ bench.
One by one, the Scorpions players ran out to a remix of “Squabble Up” by Kendrick Lamar, and Alex and I stood to cheer each of their introductions.
When Natasha was announced, she ran down the line of her teammates, slapping their hands, until she came to stand at the end of the line of players…
not far from us. With an impish grin she waved at Alex and me and then proceeded to hold two fingers to her eyes in a V shape, extending them back and forth between her and Alex.
I know what’s up, the gesture seemed to say, and even over the music I heard Alex groan.
I was still laughing when the music died down and we resumed our seats.
Alex watched me from the corner of his eye, and although he tried to appear grumpy and unaffected, I spied the way his chin trembled over a laugh.
We didn’t speak much after that, as the national anthem was sung and the game began, and we were soon swept up in the action on the court.
I had been to a Scorpions game a time or two over the years, but this experience was different.
Perhaps it was because we were sitting right behind the players’ bench or because Alex knew so many of the staff and fans, but the atmosphere was electric, just as he had said.
Several moments found me dancing in my seat to the upbeat tunes keeping the crowd energized and jumping up to cheer when a player made a basket or great play.
Alex was the perfect person to watch the game with, too.
Not only did he provide me with commentary about who was who on the court and what their particular talent was, but he was also truly passionate about the sport and the women playing it.
I was inspired by not just their athleticism, but also their tenacity and drive.
My phone remained in my hands because I kept opening my Notes app to record player names and ideas for future videos.
I had heard it said numerous times that women’s sports didn’t receive the attention and coverage they deserved, and I’d always known that to be true.
But standing in the arena during the game with eighteen thousand other screaming fans reiterated to me how grievous of an oversight that was.
My channel may have been dedicated to shining a light on historical women who’d had their discoveries stolen from them, but it certainly didn’t mean I couldn’t branch out from there.
Perhaps I could use my platform to showcase modern-day women who deserved flowers and had yet to receive them.
I was ripped from my thoughts when Natasha collided with a Pumas player as she was shooting a layup, and they both crashed to the court with a thud.
A fan several rows behind us suddenly shouted a racial slur and expletive before launching into a diatribe about bad players playing dirty to make up for their lack of talent. A chorus of laughter followed soon after.
Air whooshed from my lungs like I’d been punched.
Alex was on his feet in seconds, prowling up the arena stairs, staring intently at a group of fans near the back center of the section. Narrowing his gaze, he signaled for the security guards with a flick of his hand.
When they joined him, Alex pointed to the perpetrator and his friends. “Get them out of here.”
The group of fans protested loudly, but several security guards convinced them to leave their seats and follow them out of the arena, and their curses drew the attention of other fans in the area.
But word must have spread of their deplorable behavior because soon the arena was cheering their departure, waving gleefully at their backs.
“You okay?” I asked when he returned to his seat.
Alex stared silently at the court for a minute before he scrubbed at his jaw. “Yeah. I just can’t stand how certain fans treat athletes. As if they’re just something to be consumed, and not living, breathing people.”
I hummed but said nothing.
“This sort of behavior has become a regularity within sports lately, and it’s absolutely disgusting. I refuse to ignore it.” He curled his hands into fists. “My team knows that if they hear something inappropriate, to report the culprit to security immediately. How could I do anything different?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m glad you said something.”
Inhaling deeply, Alex turned to look at me. He didn’t say anything, but his nod of acknowledgment spoke volumes.