Page 110 of Second Down Fake

Poppy waved goodbye, but Diego’s focus had already shifted back to me.

“Sorry all your dreams are destroyed,” I said apologetically. “Even if it was vengeful groundskeepers, I feel a little guilty my good luck couldn’t get you to the Super Bowl.”

Diego shrugged.

“Not going to the Super Bowl sucks, but I wouldn’t say my dreams are destroyed. If anything, I got something a hell of a lot better than a Super Bowl ring this season.” My cheeks burned despite the cold and my stomach flipped as Diego gripped the railing tighter and cupped my chin in his palm, running the pad of his thumb down my cheek. “A golden chocobo.”

I snorted. “What more could a guy want?”

“Other than a gorgeously fun girlfriend to come home to? Absolutely nothing.”

EPILOGUE

CASSANDRA

Breaking the Breakers: Post-Season Report

Well, fans, if Norwalk is feeling pretty lonely, it’s because all of our favorite players are lying low or taking flight this off season.

Trent Vogt’s contract negotiations are still up in the air, and he’s on his best behavior. Rumor has it that head coach Nathan Simmons is dragging his feet in a bid to bring in a comparable free agent. But who’s as good as Vogt?

His partner-in-crime, Frankie Vigil, was last seen hiking in Colorado. Cole Lakeland posted selfies from a yacht in Greece. Lucas White and Isaiah Cooper are training in Canada. Noa Kweame is setting up a nursery. And Rob Grant…well, y’all didn’t seriously think he’d be spotted doing anything scandalous during the off-season?

What about quarterback Diego Salazar? Or more importantly, who’s he with?

“You didn’t send a picture of us to Poppy, did you?” Diego asked.

His dark eyes narrowed on his phone, a faint wrinkle forming in the middle of his forehead. I grinned and brushed it away.

We sat on a pair of stools in front of a mobile eatery. Other diners crowded us from both sides. Slightly tipsy after a day of sightseeing, eating, and drinking, Diego and I collapsed at a pojangmacha street stall for some food before we wound our way back to the hotel room.

I scooped the phone out of his hands. “Did she post it?”

The harsh glare of fluorescent lighting against the setting sun made me squint to make out the picture. On the screen, Diego and I posed in front of a market in South Korea. Only, as I took the picture, a vendor handed Diego a giant rabbit shaped cotton candy, and his focus moved from the camera to the dessert. While I smiled at the camera, he stared at the confection, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

“We’ve taken some really nice pictures, and that’s the one you send to the gossip columnist?”

“Human interest related sports reporter,” I corrected. “And I love that picture. You look adorable.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, shoving the last of the charred pork into his mouth. “Adorable isn’t really what I’m going for.”

“Heart-stoppingly attractive? Don’t worry. You nail that, too. Even when you’re in awe of a giant fluffy bunny.” I handed back his phone.

Four months after he flew up to New Hampshire, I was still in awe that Diego Salazar was my boyfriend. My friends, family, and long-forgotten acquaintances acted just as awed. The Diego Salazar.

Which, yes, dating Diego Salazar, football Adonis, Pro Bowl MVP, and most bangable player in the NFL, came with a host of expectations.

But dating Diego Salazar, a dorky tourist whose chiseled abs disappeared thanks to a six-week menu of noodles and sweets? Way better.

He set his on the table with a sigh. “Well, at least that’ll clear up the rumors that I dumped you for a K-pop star.”

“Is that a rumor? Really?”

He pressed his hand to his heart. “I have an email from James and everything.”

“Well, those women are incredible performers. I wouldn’t blame you. I can’t even dance, let alone sing while doing it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the original triple threat.”

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