Page 67 of Never Say Never
When I watch my fellow rookies, they’re more of a mix bag. Chance seems to be holding his own, but Ty performs in the bottom third on the physical tests. Not great.
And the infamous Nate? Shit, I’m secretly hoping he craps out, but so far he’s actually the best rookie running back in the mix.
Which he makes sure we all know.
“Boys, you have a good day?” he says on the third day as we’re getting cleaned up in the locker room. “I know I did.”
“That’s nice for you,” Chance responds shortly before turning his back to finish getting dressed.
Nate doesn’t miss a beat. He turns to me next.
“Battle, looks like I should have stuck around that club with you guys. Maybe thenIcould be fucking Avery Parker.”
He laughs like it’s a hilarious joke, but once I compute what he just said, I’m seeing red.
I step toward him, even though I’m half dressed. “What the hell did—” A big hand hits my chest before I can finish my sentence.
“One important skill as a rookie is to keep your mouth shut unless you have something productive to offer.” It’s Landon, only he doesn’t direct his comment to me; he’s giving the stink eye to Nate. “Go over to your locker.”
Nate stares at him for a couple of seconds before backing down and heading across the room.
“What an asshole,” Chance says under his breath.
Landon turns back to me, a calmer expression on his features now. “Rawls, he’s not worth it. These kind of issues tend to get sorted out by the vets in the preseason.”
“Okay, got it. Thanks.”
For a split second, I kind of wish he’d letmesort it out though. And not have to be protected by my big brother.
But then that emotion subsides as I start questioning myself. I mean, maybe he’s right and the veterans are better suited?
Shit, who knows. It’s going to be an adjustment being the “little brother” on the same team as Landon for the first time since I was fifteen.
I’m not a teenager anymore though, and there’s only so long he can step in for me before I need to man up myself.
In between myfootball obligations and Avery’s hoops schedule, Taylor has us interacting with each other’s Instagram accounts.
I don’t mind—at least it’s a safe way to perpetuate the story while not creating any further confusing moments between us.
Neither of us posts that much normally, so Taylor sends us photos to use from our team’s respective photographers.
One comment goes absolutely viral after my second OTA day. Avery posts a photo of her flying in the air, shooting a jumper. In the comments, I say the first thing that comes to mind:
“Looking good, Avie baby.”
I put my phone down to go to bed after the comment posts, and holy shit, I wake up to like nine billion notifications, tags, and screenshots of those four words.
I guess the first part of the master plan is working?
One thing for certain is the bulk of the media isn’t focused on my fuckups anymore. It’s wall-to-wall coverage of the new “royal sports couple” and crazy shit like that.
And, as we drive home from the last day of the OTA, Aiden messages me that he thinks he’ll have a couple of big updates for me this coming week.
Of course, that doesn’t solve myownAvery problem, which is about to rear up again. Because our next “date” is scheduled for tomorrow.
I need to steel myself to block out the confusion she triggers, and focus on the job at hand: pretending we’re a couple.
Keeping it light and easy, if only to protect myself.
