Page 93 of Soft
Gillies was somewhere behind me making noise and a few of the other guys had gathered near the photo display along the far wall to give each other grief about their official headshots. We’d had them done a week ago during one of the many long meeting days. Though they’d shown us the images a couple days after, it still seemed to be a big topic for the guys.
Mine wasn’t the best photo I’d ever taken, but I wasn’t going to raise a stink. I got to wear the jersey for my dream team. Who cared if my smile was a touch crooked.
I caught Grizzly's eye from across the room and my entire body went on alert. There was no turning off the Daddy part of me where my boy was concerned. He was standing near the entrance talking to a woman I recognized as one of the team's brand partners. He had his glasses on, a habit he still occasionally slipped up with.
He glanced over once, just briefly, and the corner of his mouth crept up. He’d spotted me watching him. I knew the look well.
As much as I wanted to go wrap him up in my arms, we’d agreed not to do so at team events. It was better for there to be some divide between the personal and professional. Plus, there was enough press here to cause a ruckus.
I turned back to the group nearest me and didn't let myself linger anymore. It would only take a few more minutes of staring for my cock to take notice. That woulddefinitelyattract attention. No need to traumatize kids because I can’t control my urges.
And just like that I was back in work mode. I bounced on my toes, my gaze scanning the crowd to see where I could be of the best help.
The press had been circling all evening, which was expected at things like this. More news coverage meant more exposure and possibly more donations. There were a few reporters I recognized from their time at our practices and a few I’d never seen before.
I didn't mind them or the cameras they toted around. I'd grown up under that kind of attention and made my peace with it ages ago. People wanted to invest in a player from all angles, which sometimes meant we had to put ourselves out there.
The only time I ever had issues with reporters was when they overstepped. I thought we’d be in the clear, but then one man decided to push my limits.
He came at me near the end, when the crowd had loosened and the kids had mostly been ushered toward the activity tables. Chin forward, body language confident, he extended a recorder out the second he reached me.
"Paxton Wells, great event tonight. How are you feeling about the season?"
I answered it the way I'd answered it a dozen times already tonight. "Excited. The team is strong. We’re ready to get the season going."
"You've settled into Bellport quickly from what people are saying."
"It's a welcoming city. Easy to settle into a place that wants you there," I replied.
He nodded, then opened his mouth and put his foot in there.
"There's been some talk—photos, mostly—of you and your sports agent, Grizzly. The two of you were holding hands at your draft announcement. You’ve been spotted around Bellport together more than a few times. Can you speak to that at all? Is there something personal going on there, or is that strictly professional?"
The room didn't stop moving. It was only my breaths that froze.
Gillies was laughing at something behind me. A child somewhere to my left was explaining very seriously why her foam finger was better than her brother's. The music still echoedaround the space with an upbeat tempo that definitely didn’t help my racing heart.
The question hadn't come with curiosity behind it. This guy was trying to make what I said next sound like a confession.
I held his gaze and let a beat pass. "Grizzly is important to me."
"So it is personal."
"I just said he was important to me."
"But the photos suggest?—"
"What do the photos suggest?"
He paused at my interruption. "The optics of a player and his agent being that close, especially publicly, raises questions about professional boundaries. Wouldn't you say?"
There it was.
My spine straightened. What I wanted to say and what I would say were two very different things. Only one of them wouldn’t cause a shit ton of drama.
"I think people are allowed to care about each other," I said. "I don't think that requires a lot of analysis."
"Even when there's a professional relationship involved?"
