9. Rawley
RAWLEY
“We made it to the end,” the guy next to me huffs out as one of the Waves’ coaches dismisses us from our final day of rookie minicamp.
It’s been nonstop for three days, although most of us here welcomed the activity, ready to get our NFL careers in gear even though it’s only May. Each day, we’ve jumped around from meetings, to fitness tests, to film study, to walk-throughs of on-field plays.
With almost fifty guys here, it’s intense meeting so many new people. The camp not only includes those of us who were drafted, but also undrafted free agents and others who were invited.
All of us will be fighting with the returning players and other experienced free agents as the preseason goes on for only fifty-three final roster spots.
Brutal. I’m not necessarily worried about surviving the cut myself, but it’s weird to start making friends with no clue if they’ll be around for any length of time.
Still, I’ve fallen into a friendship of sorts with two fellow rookie wideouts from D1 programs, Chance and Ty. In turn, Ty has introduced us to Nate, a rookie running back who played at the same school as him. All three of them left their junior year like me, hoping to make the NFL their career.
Nate’s the most outgoing, and organizes what he calls a “rookie boys’ night” as we wrap up the final day.
“Let’s get dinner somewhere and then go to this place I heard about, Eclypse. Blow off some steam.”
Eclypse is apparently a nightclub where a lot of the local athletes frequent. No surprise that my siblings have not taken me there during my previous visits, but it’ll be nice to get out with these guys.
Our first team-wide OTA (organized team activity) isn’t for two more weeks, so there’s also no harm in having a little fun tonight.
“Sounds good to me,” I say as we finalize plans to meet up after stopping home to get changed for a night out.
When we enter the club five hours later, the music is cranking, but it’s still a little early for things to be really raucous.
I lead the guys to the VIP section, where a host recognizes me.
“Hey, Mr. Battle, great to have you here. You can grab that booth if you want. I’ll send someone to take your drink orders.”
“This is the lifeeee,” Nate says as we pile in.
In less than a minute, a server appears. “What can I get you all?”
“I’m sticking to beer,” Nate says. “Bud light?”
“Same please,” Ty says next.
“Can I have a Heineken?” Chance asks her. “Rawley?”
“One for me too, and then water for the table, please?”
“Of course.”
As she leaves, Nate not-so-subtly watches her. Once she’s out of ear shot, he turns to us. “She’s cute. Want to see which one of us she’ll go home with tonight?”
Ty raises a brow. “You’re so predictable. Leave the poor woman alone.”
“The night is young anyway. And there’ll be lots of options.”
Not really liking the vibe Nate is putting out, I spend the next thirty minutes shooting the shit with Chance over our beers.
It turns out he has a girlfriend, so while Ty and Nate fix their attention to different groups of women on the dance floor, he’s more interested in asking about Johnson and the Waves.
“Is it true you’ve played with Johnson at the field in his backyard? That’s so fucking cool.”
“Yeah, his house is sick too. He’ll have team parties there I’m sure, so you’ll get to see it.” The unspoken “if” being if Chance makes the team.
“I can’t wait. Have you talked to Coach Houston before?”
We go back and forth like this, focused on our conversation, until Ty interrupts.
“Oh shit, you two need to check out who just walked in.”
I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the door.
Making their way to the bar are nine ladies, most touching at least six feet, dressed in a variety of sexy club outfits.
My eyes go straight to Avery who’s in a black form-fitting dress and black heels, her long black hair swimming down her back.
She looks like a million bucks.
Shit.
“It’s the Surge girls,” Nate says.
“Women,” I correct.
I’ve been trying to shove Avery out of my mind since our interview.
What’s the point of being into her if it’s never going to go anywhere? Connor’s been giving me hell too, though mainly as a joke.
Granted, that hasn’t stopped me from continuing to check out her social media for any new pics.
Or, when I take care of myself in the shower, from thinking of fisting long black hair while a glossy pair of lips wrap around my cock.
“Do you know them, Rawley? Can you introduce us?”
I debate what to do. I’ve met several of them before at outings with Grace and Landon, but I’ve only had meaningful conversations with Sarah, since she’s Grace’s friend.
Well, and Avery too.
I glance over, and Avery’s laughing at something one of her teammates said, looking so happy.
I try to turn away from her, but I can’t seem to make my head move.
Fuck it.
“Yeah, I do. Let’s go down and say hi.”
We make our way from the elevated VIP area to the bar where the ladies have settled.
My eyes stay locked on Avery, who still hasn’t noticed I’m here.
“This is what I’m talking about, Ty,” I hear Nate say, trying to keep his voice quiet but after two beers not succeeding. “Partying with famous people, it opens doors.”
Shit, is he talking about me? A sick feeling rises in my stomach—is he hanging with me just to use my name? I was already getting a bad vibe from him tonight.
I stop mid-pace, reconsidering whether I want to introduce them, but we’re now only ten feet from the Surge crew.
As if on cue, Avery’s head twists my direction, and yup, she sees me. Her eyes go wide, and then she starts curling her lips up.
I take a step to close the gap between us when suddenly a voice comes from a few feet over.
“THERE’S MY FRIEND RAWLEY.”
It’s Sarah, and a beat later her long arms are wrapped around me in a hug. “Hiiiiii.”
I’ve hung out with her maybe five times, but it’s enough that I can tell there’s some alcohol in the mix tonight. She’s extroverted but usually pretty even-keeled. Still, she’s devoted to her boyfriend, so I know the hug’s a friendly one.
“You having a good time tonight?’ I ask, unable to keep my amused tone at bay.
She steps away out of our embrace, giggling. “Sorry, it’s just nice to see a familiar face. Plus, we’re on a post-win adrenaline high.”
“The two glasses of wine with dinner is helping too,” adds her teammate beside her. I recognize her but can’t place the name.
I peek over at Avery, who’s watching us intently, surprise on her face. There was no way for her to anticipate that Sarah and I knew each other well enough for me to earn that hug.
“We’re celebrating winning our opener,” Sarah explains. “How are things going so far with the Waves?”
“We”—I gesture to the other guys, not bothering with their names now that I’m reluctant to introduce them—“just finished rookie minicamp.”
“Nice.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Avery approaching.
“Congrats on the game,” I say to Sarah.
The teammate next to her notices Avery and extends her arm. “Come here, Parker.”
Avery steps firmly in our cluster, looking a little unsteady. Ahhh, I wonder if she indulged at dinner too? Or maybe it’s just those heels?
“Heyyyyyy there,” she says, extending her words like Sarah did, and very much not sounding like her normal crisp self.
There’s my answer.
“Parker here came off the bench to get ten points and four assists.”
I grin in Avery’s direction. “Awesome. Worth celebrating, for sure.”
The bartender interrupts us before she can reply. “Here’s that round of shots, ladies.”
“Rawley, do you and those guys want a shot too?” Sarah asks.
I answer before the others can respond. “Nah, you enjoy. We’re sticking to beers tonight.”
“Smart,” says one of the other women, then elevates her voice so the whole team can hear her. “This is the last drink tonight, friends. I’m shutting us down after this.”
“Yes, Amari,” more than one in the group responds before they all drain their shots. Several of the women let out a whoop or cheer as they set down their empty glasses.
I turn back to the woman I’m most concerned with. “You doing all right?”
Avery gives me a huge smile. “I’m greattttt.”
I chuckle while making a mental note: I’m going to make sure she gets home okay tonight. “I bet. Did you drive here?”
“No, I took a Lyft.”
Suddenly, the woman who spoke last, Amari, appears in front of us with waters. “Parker, I want to see you drink this before going home.”
She takes the water, and I grab a second for good measure.
The song shifts and suddenly a banging Charli xcx remix is on.
“Oh, I want to dance,” Avery bursts out. She chugs a few more sips of her water and hands me the glass. “Hold this, will you, Mr. NFL Guy.” She giggles as if she’s made a great joke, and I can’t help laughing.
She’s kind of cute this way.
Before I can blink, she’s out on the dance floor with five of her teammates, and I readily take in the sight.
Those long legs, that long shiny hair, that beautiful face. There’s so much to appreciate.
Unfortunately, my reverie is broken by Ty.
“Hey, I’m sorry about Nate. He started harassing a couple of girls on the dance floor so I made him leave just now.”
Ah. It’s good to know it wasn’t just me. “Was he like that in school?”
“Yeah, especially when he drank. Not my favorite teammate.” Huh, okay. Maybe Ty is all right?
Chance comes up beside us. He and Ty being wide receivers, I feel more compelled to make sure we get along than I do with Nate, a running back.
“I’m going to grab another round. Do you guys want one?” Chance asks.
Ty says yes, while I decline.
“You’re double-fisting anyway,” Chance teases.
“They’re both waters. One belongs to her.” I tilt my head toward Avery on the dance floor.
“I’d hold her water too,” Ty jokes as Chance leaves to get their beers.
By the time he’s returned, the song has switched again, but the ladies stay out on the dance floor. The guys and I chat while they nurse their beers, with Chance sharing more about his girlfriend, a lacrosse player who’s staying in school to finish her senior year next year.
“She sounds great,” I say, acknowledging his enthusiastic ramblings.
Finally, after two more songs, my water-glass-holding duties are fulfilled when Avery comes stumbling over.
“I need every drop of those,” she says to me as I hand her one after another, sacrificing my own.
“You looked like you were having fun out there,” I say after she’s done drinking.
She smirks. “Good to know you were watching.”
Her voice sounds steadier than earlier. The dancing and water must have helped her sober up.
“Chance, let’s go back up to the VIP section,” Ty says with a wink to me while they walk away.
I lock eyes with Avery, and yeah, she’s looking clear-eyed. “So what’s next, more dancing?”
She grimaces. “Not dancing, these shoes are killing me.”
I look down. Her heels have to be three inches high, if not more. “I have no idea how you all wear those things. Especially after a game.”
“It was probably dumb, to be honest. Marisa loaned them to me.”
“I wear size fifteens, otherwise I would offer mine.” I chuckle, but then catch myself. Why do I make the most cringe jokes around her?
Only her eyes darken. “Of course you do.”
Oh? She wants to go there?
“I make no apologies for being a big guy,” I say, the corners of my mouth turning up.
And then—holy fuck—her tongue darts out, and she licks her lips.
Does she know she’s giving me tells that she’s into me every time we talk? I’m dying to push my luck.
“I guess you’ll never know for sure though, since you have that ‘no athletes’ rule.”
But my line does the opposite of what I intend. As soon as the word “rule” is out of my mouth, she smooths out the flirtiness from her expression.
Damn it.
“Where’s my phone?” she asks. I grab it from the bar and hand it to her. “I think I’m done for the night. I’m going to order a ride home.”
After punching in the buttons to order her car, she tells a couple of the teammates standing near us she’s taking off, before turning back to me.
“The Lyft’s going to be here in two minutes.”
“Let me wait with you to make sure you get into the car safe.”
She considers the offer and then nods.
We step toward the door of the bar. She’s a little wobbly still, but I suspect that’s now more because her feet hurt.
“Here, put your weight on me,” I say, and let her loop her arm through my own. Our arms now linked, she leans into me, which I don’t mind one bit.
We make it outside of the bar, and she eases off me a bit, but I notice she doesn’t disentangle herself completely.
“What type of car did the app say—”
“OMG, is that Rawley Battle? Get a picture, Trish!”
I flip around and see a phone pointing at us.
“And he’s with that basketball girl! OMG!”
“I’m already recording!”
Avery pulls away from me completely, and I send a heavy look to the two women filming us.
“Guys, we’re just here with our teammates. Can you stop recording?”
It takes them another second, but then the phone appears to be off.
“Sorry,” one of them says.
“My car is here,” Avery says in a short tone. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Fuck. Well at least these women will see she’s going home alone and there’s nothing of interest.
“Be safe.”
And when I hustle back into the bar, ignoring the women who ruined the vibe, I realize I don’t even have Avery’s number to check that she gets home okay.