Page 7 of The Comeback

I don’t want to discount her just because her profession is to market herself to people, and I remind myself that I’m not getting chummy or talking to her because I’m not doing that with anyone, not just because of what she does for a living.

The Blue Team quarterback throws a long bomb. Well, it feels like one for an eight-year-old. Probably no more than fifteen yards. And, most surprising, his teammate catches it. The Black Team wasn’t ready for the play, and the receiver runs another five yards before he gets tackled. I stand up and cheer loudly. Hayden sighs and looks comically disappointed.

“Do you usually sit next to the opposing team?” I ask when I sit back down.

She smiles. “Makes things more interesting, don’t you think?” Her easy manner has me truly relaxing for the first time since she sat down. “What do you say to a friendly wager?” Her smile widens, and she digs into her pocket, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill. The fact that she doesn’t have a fancy wallet or purse with her has me taking a step or two back in my judgments of her.

“You trying to get me suspended? Betting on sports is a big no-no for professional players,” I joke with her.

She tilts her head, her expression holding a little taunting and a little flirting. “Scared?”

I can handle a friendly wager, and just because she’s flirting, doesn’t mean I have to flirt back. I pull my wallet from my pocket and slip out a twenty of my own, putting it in the cupholder of my camp chair. She adds hers to it and raises her eyebrows before clapping for another good stop by the Black Team.

Shoot. My team’s definitely got the offense to win this game, but her team’s defense is no joke. “I’m pretty competitive,” I warn Hayden.

She shrugs. “I don’t mind. So am I. I got thrown out of a cheer competition last year for getting in a heated exchange with an opposing cheer coach.” She cringes, but there’s no real embarrassment in her tone. “The girls were ten. I didn’t even have a kid on the team—just the daughter of a really good family friend.”

“My brother, Devin, has to warn me before my nephew’s games not to get too excited. I have to pay him $100 every time I yell ‘unsportsmanlike’ things at other adults there.”

Hayden laughs and settles back in her chair. We both focus on the game for a few moments, until a pair of women walk up to me.

“Jett McCombs?” one says.

I look up at them politely. I don’t really need to confirm my identity, do I?

“Can we get a selfie with you?” the other one asks.

I tense. This is why I’m here, even if I hate doing it. I don’t mind engaging with fans, but these women didn’t even bother with small talk.

“Did you pay for the upgraded media package?” Hayden says from next to me. There’s no upgraded package, but she speaks with a confidence that has the other women blinking at her and then looking between the two of us, eyes asking who she is and probably whether they can challenge her authority.

“Uh…,” the first one murmurs.

“Sorry,” the second one says, yanking her friend away. They glance back over their shoulders at us as they hurry away.

“I’m kind of supposed to be doing that kind of thing,” I say, knowing Hayden can probably hear the laughter in my voice.

“Meh.” She waves a hand in their direction. “If they were real fans, they would’ve known I was full of it. They’re just here to look for the hottest players to take pictures with.” She nods at where they’ve joined a group of men that includes most of the Pumas’ defensive line and some guys in golf shorts and polos.

The thing is, I don’t mind that she rescued me. I’ll get a lecture from the higher-ups about not interacting enough with fans, but I can deal with that if it means not having to snap pictures and talk awkwardly to people I don’t know all day. If I’d taken the picture with the women, the floodgates would have opened for others to follow their lead. Hayden’s probably saved me from more than one excruciating interaction.

“My agent’s going to be mad at me. She wants me working on a friendlier image.”

“Yeah?” We’ve both gone back to watching the game. “I can go get them for you if you want. I’ll even tell them I lied.” Hayden’s taunting me just like she was with the bet earlier. I make a face, which she laughs at. “Tell you what. Take a selfie with me. You’ll get way more views anyway.”

I hesitate. On the one hand, it might invite more spectators to come take a shot, negating what Hayden just did. On the other, I could probably mitigate that possibility by taking the selfie with my own phone, making the shot seem less about a picture with a fan and more like friends hanging out. The photo would probably placate Claire for a while too, especially if what Hayden says is true about the views it would get on her account.

I hold out my phone. “I’ll take it and text it to you.”

Hayden’s eyes widen, surprised at the offer that will give her my phone number. “Okay.” She says it like a question, waiting for me to take it back. Instead I flip the camera around and lean toward her. She quickly adjusts her pose and leans on the arm of her chair, letting her shoulder touch mine.

Once I’ve taken a few, I hand my phone over to Hayden and tell her to put her number in. She hesitates again, eyeing me. But I’ve realized something else. While I’ve been talking with Hayden, I haven’t been spinning over seeing Ava last night. I need to prove to myself that I am over her, that I’ve moved on, and giving my phone number to a woman who’s really outside of my normal dating pool seems like a great way to do that.

I smile at Hayden and she shrugs, opening a text on my phone and keying in her number just as the Blue Team scores a touchdown.

“Get ready to lose twenty bucks,” I say as I accept my phone back.

She scoffs. “We’ll see.”

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