Page 96 of Just for the Cameras
They’ve actually been pretty nice. One guy even slapped me on the ass, which of course caused Graydon to pin the guy to the ground and tell him to “never fucking touch” me again. The guy held his hands up in defense and said he always slaps butts as a sign of a job well done. Graydon informed him my butt was off-limits. God, that conversation still makes me chuckle every time I hear it again in my mind. Everly’s going to love that one.
Graydon’s eyes go to my forehead again, where I have a butterfly strip above my eyebrow. Then his eyes fall down to my wrist, and he noticeably gets angrier.
“It’s not a training camp without a few injuries,” Coach Keenan says, coming up to us.
“Looks good on her,” Troy says, causing Graydon to grow even more tense.
“What the hell’s he doing here?” Graydon growls to his coach.
“I invited him,” Coach Keenan says. “Do you have a problem with that…Saint?”
Graydon’s jaw grows even tighter, and I swear if Keenan wasn’t his coach, Graydon’s arm would be around his neck right now, squeezing all the air from his lungs until he was nothing but a pile of skin and bones on the ground.
“You know,” Troy says, “if you worried half as much about your footwork as you do about your littleplaything, you wouldn’t be barely making the sprints.”
“What did you say?” Graydon snaps at his dad.
Uh-oh.
I look between Troy and Graydon, the tension between them so palpable, so hungry that it’s sucking all the air within a ten-mile radius.
“You heard me,” he says.
Graydon steps up to his dad, his posture barely imposing over his father.
“I’m hoping for your sake I didn’t hear you properly.”
“No, you heard me. You’re so worried about your little plaything that you’re already a liability on the field.”
Graydon’s eyes nearly turn black, and within a flash, he cocks his arm back and punches his dad right in the freaking ribs, causing him to groan and bend over.
Oh shit.
“She’s not my plaything. She’s an intelligent woman with a heart of fucking gold. Show some goddamn respect,” Graydon says as everyone turns toward us. Just as my mind tries to process what he said about me, fear also rips through my chest as I look around, grateful cameras are not allowed at the first week of camp so they can’t record and spread this interaction.
A few of the larger guys run up and grab Graydon by the arms, pulling him back a smidge as Troy straightens, laughing the most maniacal laughI’ve ever heard. He pushes his hand through his hair, bent to the side, nursing his ribs as he says, “Finally, some fire in those eyes.” He then nods toward Coach Keenan and says, “Make him pay for it.”
Oh God. I don’t like the sound of that.
Unsure what to do, I quickly say, “I…I thought his footwork was impressive.”
Troy turns to me and lets his lips turn up even more. “Of course youdid, sweetheart.” And then he takes off with Coach Keenan at his side.
Graydon stares off at their trailing backs, his hands flexing at his sides. One of the big guys pats him on the shoulder and says, “Let it go.”
Then they take off to finish their water break, leaving me alone with a heavy-breathing, ready-to-snap defensive end.
“Um, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t fucking say anything,” he says as he pushes his hand through his sweaty hair before his eyes lock on mine, a hint of worry in those tortured pupils.
“Graydon, I—”
“Don’t,” he snaps, and then that worry, or any concern he might have had, vanishes. “I sent you a link for a ride home. All you have to do is click on it, and the car will come and get you.”
“Oh, I can call my own car.”
He leans in close, almost nose to nose with me. “I’m well aware of your ability to take care of yourself, Maple, so you don’t have to keep reminding me. But as the person you are currently attached to, it is my goddamn responsibility to make sure you have everything you need. Don’t fucking fight me on it.”
