Page 9 of Second Down Fake

“Didn’t think you could take on the hoards without me?”

Rob and I were friendly, but I doubted he’d ever call me a friend. Except for Noa, a giant Hawaiian who befriended everyone, Rob barely considered his teammates acquaintances, and he adopted more of an annoyed older brother role in the organization. With a kid and a long NFL career even before the Breakers, he didn’t need our bullshit.

But he needed someone to play video games with after his daughter went to bed.

“I killed about a dozen zombies before you bothered to show up. And I respawned here.”

I grinned, diving into the game on screen. For the next hour, our conversation consisted only of mumbled commands and strategies. As we reached the checkpoint before the last battle, my phone rang, cutting off Rob mid-sentence.

“Ignore it,” I said distractedly, before pausing. “Actually, I should check who it is. Give me two.”

Before Rob could argue, I pulled off my headphones and checked the phone. Zoey.

“Five!” I said into the speaker before putting the headphones down and answering the call.

“You called my assistant?” Zoey punctuated each word like an accusation.

“I tried to call you.”

“I blocked your number,” she said. Not exactly an invitation to start a conversation, but she had called me, so that had to count for something.

“I wanted to apologize about the post last night. I know how that looked?—”

“I don’t care about your dumb vague posting, Diego. Are you calling about the article? Because that was all before your stupid late-night party.”

My jaw dropped. “It was?”

“Do you think I read your 2 A.M. drunk text and ran out to talk to a journalist? Seriously, Diego? Don’t get me wrong, your timing couldn’t have been worse. They are eviscerating you online. I almost feel a little bad about how it’s all blown up.”

“Wait, you gave that interview before? When?”

“Last week, you asshole, after you dumped me over text.”

“I didn—” I stalled, the words dying on my lips as she released a disgruntled gasp. Arguing would only end in her hanging up and cause more problems. And she wasn’t wrong. Not exactly, anyway. “You were leaving for Portugal, and the season is about to start up. We hadn’t even seen each other much since the vacation.”

“The romantic getaway where you invited your teammates?”

“The vacation we both decided would be better with friends,” I said, metering my words.

“You said it first.” Exhaustion laced her voice.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” she snapped. “I mean, what exactly happened? Because one second, we were all over each other. We were goals. Our pictures plastered on every magazine cover and sources were speculating about a wedding.”

“I never said anything about marriage. No, we. We never said anything about marriage.”

“No,” she admitted. “But you were crazy about me.”

I winced. I’d hurt her, and worse, I’d humiliated her. The tone of her voice made that much clear. For the first time that day, I didn’t focus on the sponsorships or the team, but Zoey. And what a fucking dick I’d been.

“We had a lot of fun.”

“And then what happened?”

I sighed, pushing myself up from the couch and raking a hand through my hair as I paced. I glanced at the television screen and then the headphones. Rob’s angry voice echoed from the headphones thrown on the coffee table. “Honestly?”

“I think you owe me that much.”

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