Chapter 22 - Josie
Josie
Our next date was on a Friday night the week after signing the new contract. Unlike the first contract, I carefully read all of the details and found a lawyer online who reviewed the entire thing for a flat fee. They gave me two small items to negotiate, and then the whole thing was done.
Three more dates with Grayson.
In exchange, the Surge social media team would repost three of my videos—to be agreed upon by both parties—between now and the end of the calendar year.
But as the date arrived, it wasn’t the social media agreement that excited me.
The San Antonio River Walk was a vibrant, tree-lined network of cobblestone paths and bridges winding alongside a narrow river in the heart of the city.
Lined with lively restaurants, colorful umbrellas, and mariachi music drifting through the air, it was easily the second-biggest attraction in town behind The Alamo.
Our date was scheduled at a Mexican restaurant overlooking the River Walk. The team sent a driver to pick me up, but this time I was alone on the drive. No photographer or hockey players.
Grayson was waiting outside the restaurant when I got out of the car. He was wearing a Spurs cap pulled down low over his face, but I recognized the broadness of his shoulders and the way he carried himself with the confidence of someone with immeasurable fame.
“Too good to ride with us?” I asked.
“I walked. It’s a beautiful night for it.”
“It really is.” I noticed something on his cheek, so I lifted his cap a little higher. “Holy shit. Your face.”
“Weird way to greet someone, but okay.”
“Let me guess. You’re going to say that I should see the other guy?”
“You should see the other guy,” he said with a nod. “His name is Alexei Karnapov, the center for the Ottawa Senators. He may have given me a black eye, but I knocked out one of his teeth.”
It weirded me out how hot that was. I had never been attracted to bullshit machismo attitudes, puffing out your chest and getting into fights, but it felt different when Grayson described it. More real compared to the caricatures I imagined in my head.
To cover it up, I rolled my eyes. “That was a good fight. I especially liked how you scored the minute you were released from the penalty box.”
Grayson narrowed his eyes at me. “I thought you didn’t watch hockey.”
Shit. I hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“It was on SportsCenter,” I said.
He looked skeptical, but didn’t call me out on it, for which I was grateful.
We were escorted to a table outside, right against the railing that overlooked the River Walk. As soon as we sat down, Grayson removed the hat and placed it on the table, then ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m surprised they don’t have that photographer guy here,” I said. “What’s the point if they’re not documenting the date?”
Grayson smiled, then jerked his head to the left. “Manny’s taking photos as we speak.”
I turned and looked around. Tourists were wandering along the path by the river below us, and there were other restaurants on either side of this one with a smattering of customers.
“Across the river,” Grayson said, leaning across the table and pointing. “Right there.”
I spotted the telescopic camera lens across the river, balanced on the edge of a stone railing. He was aiming right at us.
“He told us to just act natural,” Grayson explained. “He’s taking mostly candids tonight, with a few closer shots after dinner. Apparently, I’m taking you on a walk along the river.”
“Oh, exciting,” I said dryly. “This kind of feels like being on an arranged date.”
“Except instead of being set up by a friend, it’s a multi-billion-dollar sports franchise,” he muttered.
“Exactly!”
We smiled, then ordered margaritas when the server arrived. He returned with the drinks and a basket of tortilla chips with three different kinds of salsa.
“I love this time of year,” I said, sighing happily. “That narrow window of time when it’s pleasant outside.”
“It’ll be triple digits this time next month.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
Grayson sipped his margarita, tongue licking up the salt from his lips in a way that made my core tighten. “But you’re right. This weather is when I don’t mind living in Texas. It’s probably still snowing in Wisconsin.”
“Same in Minnesota,” I agreed.
The server, a college-aged girl, took our order. But then she lingered a few seconds and asked, “I’m not supposed to do this… but can I get a selfie with you?”
Grayson smiled. “If I say no, will you spit in my food? Just kidding, get in here.”
The tall hockey player stood up, and she put her arm around his waist and took a quick selfie.
He glanced at me while sitting back down. “What?”
“You seemed to enjoy that.”
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.”
“It means you were a lot more enthusiastic about her than you were about our first date together. You even made a joke about her spitting in our food. I can’t imagine why you’re so friendly with her.”
“If you’re implying it’s because our server has a large chest—”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. And because she was batting her doe-like eyelashes at you.”
“You should know by now that I hate it when fans fawn over me.”
“Do I know that?” I teased. “Because on our first date, you seemed annoyed that I wasn’t worshiping the ground you walked on.”
“I was surprised by your attitude, sure,” he admitted. “You were outright hostile on our date. And don’t try to pretend you weren’t.”
I paused to eat a chip, then said, “It’s possible I was less than friendly.”
He nodded once. “That joke I made about the food? It’s pretty much my canned response. I’ve made it a thousand times before with a thousand different servers, both men and women.”
“You’re good at faking the enthusiasm.”
“I’ve always been able to fake it when I need to. Especially in front of the cameras.”
My first thought was the kiss at the Spurs game, but then I remembered Manny was snapping photos across the river. I glanced in that direction, then said, “So you didn’t become fake until you got rich and famous. Makes sense.”
Grayson shrugged. “Everyone lies sometimes. Nobody is a hundred percent genuine with everyone they come across. We hide our true selves like a vulnerability until we find someone we can actually trust to be ourselves around.”
The comment was so unexpected, so philosophical, that I didn’t have any biting response ready. “Have you ever trusted anyone that much?” I asked instead, eager to continue the conversation.
“I’ve come close before.” He stared off. “An ex-girlfriend. She’s the only person I’ve ever been my true self around… although there was one big lie I told.”
I perked up. “Okay, I have to hear this. What big lie?”
“It was an innocent lie, but it became big the longer it went on.” Grayson let out a long sigh. “It’s stupid…”
“No!” I leaned forward. “I want to hear it. Tell me. It’ll make this fake date go by faster.”
He smirked, then stared down at the River Walk for a few seconds.
“Her name was Ashley. We dated my sophomore year of college. On one of our first dates, we were at a coffee shop when this guy next to us started eating a peanut butter sandwich. It must have been some kind of homemade peanut butter, because it was pungent. This guy was eating it as slowly as possible, too. He’d eat a bite, put it back down, chew it slowly.
It was all we could focus on, distracting us from our date.
I wanted to get to know this girl, so I turned to the guy and told him I had a peanut allergy.
After he moved, Ashley asked if it was true… and I said yes.”
“Uh oh,” I said.
“I don’t know why I said yes. I could’ve told her the truth, but I guess I didn’t want her to think I was the kind of guy who lied to strangers.
But I immediately realized it was a mistake.
Ashley was really concerned, and asked me a million questions about the allergy.
I answered a few and then changed the subject.
I thought that was it, the topic was over.
It didn’t matter because this was just some girl I had gone on, like, one date with.
“Fast forward six months. We’re in a full-blown relationship, and her entire friend group knows about my made-up peanut allergy.
They warn restaurants for me when we go out to eat.
They check ingredients. They even got the campus cafeteria to stop serving peanut butter cookies.
” He leaned across the table. “Josie, I fucking love peanut butter cookies. They’re my favorite.
Reese’s Cups, too. But now I was pretending they would literally kill me if I came within a few feet of any peanut butter treat. ”
I was giggling uncontrollably by this point, but waved for him to go on.
“The thing about hockey is that it burns a lot of calories. During the season, which is when we were dating, we had two-a-days. Hockey practice in the morning before class, and again in the afternoon. Growing up poor, peanut butter was one of the most cost-effective ways for me to get calories. I had jars of peanut butter hidden in my dorm room like I was a fucking alcoholic stashing booze! But I was in too deep. I couldn’t admit that I had lied, not after months of pretending. ”
“What did you do?” I asked between laughs.
“We eventually broke up, for reasons unrelated to peanut butter. Honestly, being able to eat Reese’s Cups in public again took away the sting of the breakup.
” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his margarita.
“But that six months pretending to have a peanut allergy helped prepare me for faking enthusiasm as a pro athlete.”
“And people say college doesn’t teach life skills!” I replied.
Our laughter and smiles were genuine—there was no faking that. For a few moments, it felt like I was chatting with a friend rather than someone I was contractually obligated to be around. Even his smile was slightly different, more real.
Then the server returned with our food, and the fake smile returned.
After dinner, we went for a walk along the River Walk while Manny jogged ahead of us and snapped candid photos. “You two are doing a much better job pretending tonight,” he said after a few minutes. “But can you ramp it up a little bit?”
Both of us tensed. “Ramp it up how?” Grayson asked.
“Put your arm around her or hold hands or something.”
Grayson sighed and glanced sideways at me.
“Make it convincing,” I said, leaning closer to him. “We don’t want to give Bob any excuse to complain.
“Amen to that.”
The way he slid his arm around my waist was so effortless and natural. It felt strangely right, especially as I wrapped an arm around him.
We walked along in silence, not sure what to say.
“I’m surprised they didn’t have a makeup guy touch up your face before these photos,” I said.
“They offered, but I said no,” he answered. This close, I could feel the rumble of his voice through his skin.
“Too manly to wear makeup?”
“I worked hard for these scars,” he replied. “The last thing I want to do is cover them up.”
Up ahead, Manny waved to get our attention. “Good job! Now just walk together a bit more and we’re done!”
Grayson removed his arm, and I did the same. But as we took a few more steps, our hands brushed together. Then his fingers grasped mine until we were holding hands.
“Make it convincing, right?” he said.
“Right,” I replied, trying to ignore how warm and strong his fingers felt laced into mine. It reminded me of the way they had felt laced in my hair at the game, when he pulled me into a kiss…
“If I ever do want to cover up my bruises,” he added, “your channel is the first one I’ll check.”
“Thank you in advance.”
But as we walked hand-in-hand, an idea came to me.
“How long is this date supposed to last?” I asked.
“Another half hour. They want us to get ice cream. Why?”
“I have a better idea,” I said. “But we need to go back to my place.”