Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Dante smacked Amil on the chest with the back of his hand. “Come on, man, I’ll introduce you around.”
He meant the non-players at this tailgate shindig.
Amil had obviously met all the players on the team.
They’d been practicing together for a week now.
He’d call himself friendly with Broderick, although he was pretty sure that guy befriended literally every person he came into contact with.
Amil had gone out to dinner with Gunner Valentine, their starting safety, two days ago and then headed to Gunner’s house to play video games with the guy’s roommate until way too fucking late. Not that Amil had complained.
Hell no.
He was feeling a little shell shocked, though. He’d never once, in all his years, felt this tight with a group of people in such a short period of time.
Even Jalen was glaring at him less and less, making him suspect that Dante had likely had a conversation with him, much as he had with Amil.
Whatever. Amil didn’t care how it happened, so long as they could bury the perceived hatchet. He was this close to being part of a cohesive team for the first time in his life, and, as it turned out, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to that point.
Including keep Diana at arm’s length.
That was admittedly the hardest part to accept, even though it was fairly easy to put into play. She’d told him her reasons for not doing relationships, and he respected her beliefs. She already had Jalen giving her a hard time about not dating him; she didn’t need Amil acting the exact same way.
No one deserved that sort of pressure.
He and Dante walked over to a cluster of players and what Amil assumed were their significant others. Gunner was standing next to his roommate, a lean yet buff guy who Dante introduced as “his buddy” Ben Harrison.
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Amil said, shaking Ben’s hand. “He kicked my ass at Counter Strike 2 it was so obvious, he was surprised her friends hadn’t called her on it. Hell, maybe they had. She and Allison and Emma had been friends since college; they no doubt were all too aware of her relationship choices.
“Callahan,” Dante called out to their kicker, who was some distance away, standing with a willowy, dark-haired woman who was far too dressed up for a college football game.
Two men who bore a strong resemblance to the woman hovered nearby, one of them not so subtly holding his phone to film or snap picture after picture of this group of football players.
“Fucking tool,” Amil heard someone mutter.
He glanced over at Diana’s friend Emma, who was glaring in the direction of the guy with the phone. The group of women all moved close to Royce and Morgan, crowding them and blocking the camera guy’s view.
“What’s going on?” Amil asked.
“Emma is right,” Dante commented. “Callahan’s girlfriend’s brother is a tool.
He’s always got his camera out, always trying to get footage to post on his socials.
And he’s a sleaze when it comes to women.
Especially Morgan, since she’s famous. Luckily, Morgan usually has bodyguards who won’t let him get near to her, but our cheerleaders aren’t so lucky.
The guy has propositioned a few of them more than once.
And he didn’t learn what the word no meant when he was a toddler, apparently. ”
Amil could sense Dante’s disapproving glare even behind his sunglasses.
“Is Callahan aware? Why doesn’t he tell the guy not to come around?” Amil asked.
“He’s aware. And he’s tried, but the guy is also a dick to his own sister, basically uses her to get into games, to have access to the suites.
Every time Callahan points out his bad behavior to the sister, she gets upset and says she had no choice but to bring him along.
The whole thing is a mess, which, unfortunately, is par for the course with Callahan.
The guy’s never had a normal relationship in his adult life. ”
“I got this,” Emma said. She stalked past them, right up to the brother in question. Held out her hand, palm up.
They must have exchanged words, because after a brief moment, the guy placed his phone in her palm. She fiddled with it for a minute and then handed it back.
A sly grin spread from cheek to cheek as she rejoined Amil and the group.
“Girl, what did you do?” Diana asked, laughter in her voice.
Emma shrugged. “Changed his settings so that his pictures automatically delete after an hour.”
“And he just let you do that?”
Emma chuckled. “Hell no. I told him I was a professional photographer and could make his pictures even sharper, more crystal clear. I told him I follow him on social media and I really like what he posts, but it could be better. He was more than eager to let me fondle his phone after that.”
A laugh burst out of Diana, the sound shooting straight to Amil’s groin. He took a quick drink and forced himself to think about baseball.
The ploy wasn’t working. This crazy level of attraction he had for the woman was not going away anytime soon.
If ever.
Which was annoying as hell.
Amil moved from conversation to conversation, joining in and then edging over to the next group of people. Like an active member of the group.
Were his thoughts cheesy? Yeah. Did he care?
Nope.
He kept tabs on Diana but did not make any attempt to speak to her. She hovered nearby but also did not seem inclined to chat him up. It was for the best, he knew. Jalen seemed to be in a buoyant mood, which helped keep the event chill.
It was chill probably because everyone was in a good mood, but for Amil, he was far more aware of Jalen and Diana than anyone else.
Eventually, someone introduced him to the woman with the toddler. Her name was Summer, and she told him the grinning, drooling toddler was her daughter, Evie.
Summer, he noticed, did not wear a wedding ring. Nor did she mention a husband or a significant other. She was polite although standoffish, as if she, too, did not feel she belonged.
They might have bonded over their mutual sensations, except Broderick pulled him away so Amil could listen to a goofy dad joke, and the next time he saw Summer, she was handing the baby off to Jalen, who looked so uncomfortable, Amil chuckled under his breath.
As the tailgate wore on, Amil couldn’t help but notice that most of the players were paired up with significant others.
In fact, it sort of felt like he and Jalen were the odd men out, which, yeah, was weird.
Other than both lusting after Diana, he’d not expected him and Jalen to have a damn thing in common.
When it was time to head into the stadium, they were led to seats on the fifty-yard line, in a section blocked off specifically for the team. There was extra security standing around, ensuring fans didn’t bother them while they enjoyed the game.
Somehow, Amil and Jalen ended up seated next to each other. He had no idea where Diana was, other than it wasn’t anywhere near him and Jalen.
“Well, this is awkward,” Amil noted once they were all seated.
Jalen snorted without looking at him.
It was better than snapping at him, he supposed.
The game commenced. The visiting team was awarded first possession. The Ducks kicked the ball, and one of the players from the other team caught it and tried to run toward their goal line, only to be almost immediately tackled by a Ducks defensive player.
Amil and Jalen both stood and cheered, giving each other a high five and grinning, and holy shit, were they actually getting along?
Two minutes into the second quarter, the refs made a bad call. Amil and Jalen both leaped to their feet, both shouting the same argument against the call.
Bonding over bad calls—who would have expected it? Certainly not Amil.
With ten minutes left in the second quarter, Royce and Morgan left their seats, sandwiched by security personnel.
Amil must have had a confused look on his face, because Jalen said, “Royce is an alum. Just donated a bunch of money to update the team’s locker room. He’s being honored during halftime.”
“Ah.” That made sense.
Jalen added, “Morgan is the coach’s daughter. Plus, of course, she was raised here. And she’s famous. So I’m sure she’s involved in the ceremony.”
“No shit.” That explained how they met. Although Amil was well aware of how easy it was for professional sports figures to mingle with famous actors and musicians and influencers.
Mitch Madden was always hanging around in the tunnel at 49ers games.
He loved to shake hands with the players, tried to talk smack, like they were all buddies.
Amil had never really cared for the man, truth be told. His personality was oily. Fake. He was an actor, so maybe that was to be expected, although Morgan was just as famous and she was one of the most genuine people Amil had ever met.
The quarter ended and fans surged to their feet, heading to the concessions or to wait in line for the restrooms.
No one in their section left their seats, except for Emma and Diana, who, Jalen informed him, had been granted permission to go down onto the field to snap pictures of this event for the Mountain Lions’ publicity purposes.
Amil watched Diana instead of the ceremony. She was so professional. Shaking hands with the coach and other administrative people from the university. Whatever she said left several of them laughing.
She was damn good at her job.
She was also almost painfully beautiful, but honestly, Amil could admit he was probably biased.
With a microphone in her hand, Morgan walked onto the field, waving at the crowd.
She introduced herself then had to wait for the cheers and clapping to subside.
She introduced her dad, the warmth in her voice loud and clear.
After intro’ing the A.D. and the president of the university, she handed off the microphone and hurried to the sideline.
The president talked at length about Royce’s accomplishments, both while he was a student and now in the NFL, before thanking him for his generous donation and presenting him with a plaque, after which the entire group posed for pictures.
The ceremony ended with applause loud enough you’d think someone had just scored a touchdown, and then the participants hurried off the field so the two teams could warm up before the second half started.
Two plays in, after nothing terribly exciting happened, Jalen nudged him. “Come on, man, let’s go get some snacks. Plus, I have to piss.”
Amil arched his brows. “You need me to hold your hand?”
“No, I need you to hold my dick,” Jalen retorted. “Get your ass up and come with me.”
Amil did as he was told, following Jalen up the stairs to the nearest restroom. And since he had to piss, too, they went in together, which was only mildly awkward. They shared a locker room, after all, so that wasn’t what was awkward.
It was this whole playing nice bit.
Was Jalen playing? Or was he making a genuine attempt to bury the hatchet?
Amil wished he could tell because he didn’t like this hesitancy he felt each time the guy said or did something.
He wanted to assume the best, but with their history—and his still simmering feelings for Diana—it was hard to fully trust.
“It’s cool, man,” Jalen said after purchasing two packages of peanuts and shoving one of them at Amil’s chest. “Quit overthinking it.”
“Hard not to,” Amil admitted as they made their way back to their seats. “We didn’t exactly start on positive footing.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you aren’t as bad of a person as I wanted you to be.”
“Thanks?” He worded it as a question, mostly because this was a hell of a bizarre conversation. Welcome, but still bizarre.
They continued chatting, tossing mild insults back and forth, commenting on the game, getting annoyed when the Ducks made a bad play, until the Ducks ultimately won, 34-10.
While they filed out of the stadium, Jalen pulled out his phone and asked for Amil’s number. Amil rattled off his digits, and a moment later, he received a text.
Don’t make it weird.
Amil snorted.
But no, he had no intention of making it weird.