3. Blake #2
I pull on a neutral face and shake out the tension. I act like I’ve just met her for the first goddamn time, and extend my hand. “Hi. Blake Mitchell. Nice to meet you.”
She looks at it like I’ve just offered her a dead squirrel. “Yeah. I know.” No handshake. Just venom. Her voice low, controlled, like she’s warning me not to fuck with her twice.
McCullum watches, his expression shifting. He’s clocking something. There’s an edge now in the air, subtle but sharp.
An image flickers behind my eyes— uninvited and way too vivid.
Cassy, naked and sprawled across the hotel bed sheets, her tongue flicking my dick. Her lips parting. Her nails in my skin. The way she looked right before she—
I shut that shit down. Hard.
“Good luck with the new job.” I’m already walking, fast, ignoring everything behind me.
Damn. What happens if McCullum finds out?
I cut through the corridor, heading for the Media Conference Room. Screw it. I'll just have to avoid her like the plague. If I can.
The rest of the team starts arriving, a low rumble of voices and footsteps rolling through the hallway like a storm front. I catch the sound of the door swinging open, then—
Chaos.
“Jesus, Thumper, watch it!”
Peters nearly face plants into the doorframe as Thumper shoves him hard enough to shift a wall.
“Walk it off, rookie,” Thumper grins.
They barrel into the room together like it's recess. Loud, obnoxious, testosterone-fueled. Exactly how it’s supposed to be. Except—
Every single guy suddenly stops as Cassy enters the room and every damn head swivels.
Damn… why does she have to be so beautiful?
The media room is clean and sharp, big flat screens on the walls, a long conference table stretching the length of the space, and plenty of ergonomic seating pretending to make us comfortable while we get lectured.
“Watch it, man,” McAvoy grumbles, still half-laughing.
Bishy throws his arm around his shoulders. “You ready for your close-up, superstar?”
McAvoy deadpans, “If this is another ‘mic’d up’ thing, I’m out of here.”
Bishy’s gaze flicks to Cassy, then right to me, and just smirks.
Brody scans the room and drops into the seat next to me, then leans back like this is just background noise to him.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” I mutter.
Brody shrugs. “Better than sitting next to Thumper. He smells worse than you.”
Thumper flips him off across the table.
Cassy’s talking quietly to Riley on the other side of the room, and I catch it out of the corner of my eye as she stands up with her hands on her hips. Her presence shifts the air in the room like someone just changed the weather.
“I’m Cassy McCullum, the Aces’ new Media and Communications Manager.”
Silence. Like actual, pin-drop silence.
Mouths open. Eyes wide. Then you see it, McCullum. It finally lands.
And all the idiots try not to stare like she just announced she’s the Queen of England.
“Alright, gentlemen, let’s focus.”
Her voice is firm. But there’s a thread of nerves in it, barely there. Still, she doesn’t look at me. Not once. Like I’m contagious.
The room quiets. Mostly. Thumper’s still smirking, and Bishy leans back like he’s settling in for a bedtime story.
“We’re here to talk about expanding our player-driven media content. Fans want more access, behind-the-scenes footage, interactive polls, and a new series we’re calling ‘Roomies on the Road’.”
Riley jumps in, “So... ‘Roomies on the Road’ is simple: we pair up guys who room together on road trips and film their interactions, pre-game routines, travel habits, even the dumb arguments over who gets the best pillow.”
Bishy laughs. “So basically, exposing how much of a disaster Thumper is?”
“Fuck you. I’m a fantastic roommate.”
Bishy shakes his head. “Jesus Christ. You left all your gear in the hotel bathroom last trip.”
Cassy smirks. “Exactly the kind of content fans love.” Her eyes flick to me for barely more than a second. But there’s fire in it. Electricity. Tension that creeps up your spine and wraps around your throat.
I lean back.
Just another girl. Just another night. That’s it. Even if I was easing my dick into—
Michael, the Senior Comms guy, chimes in, shattering my flashback. “We’ll also be running fan polls, who’s the funniest guy on the team, who’s the worst roommate, who eats the weirdest pre-game meal...”
I lean forward. “What’s the deadline?”
Cassy checks her notes. Doesn’t even flinch. “We want the first episode of ‘Roomies on the Road’ ready by the start of next month’s road trip. That means filming starts next week.”
Musa, one of the content creators, nods. “We’ll need players to be available for short interviews and casual footage. Nothing scripted, just natural interactions.”
Peters lifts an eyebrow. “So, basically, just us being idiots?”
Suzanna from Media laughs. “Yeah, pretty much. But nothing cliché or boring.”
Cassy claps her hands once. “Alright, people, we’ll send out schedules for filming. Expect some mic’d-up moments, travel footage, and maybe a few surprises.”
Chairs scrape back. Guys stretch, and the conversation kicks up again like a switch flipped.
Bishy elbows me in the ribs. “Asshole!” I shoot him a look. He just grins. Behind him, Cassy’s still staring at me like I set her favorite shoes on fire. And just like that, the guys start filing out, still chirping each other, tossing jabs and insults that echo off the walls.
The media team stays behind, already gathered around a laptop, planning shots, and making notes.
As we head for the door, Brody pauses, looks at her, then at me. “Fuck... that’s her, isn’t it?”