Page 81 of The Keeper

“If we ever disagree, fuck you here’s to me,” I jumped in, ending with the two of them in unison.

The shots went down so easy. Too easy. I smiled, my brain becoming all fuzzy and relaxed. We sat with some of the crew from marketing and sales. Everyone was buzzing about the upcoming draft, but more importantly, all the parties. I planned to attend a couple of the events, just to do the rounds as per usual.

Hannah walked over looking stylish in her champagne-colored cocktail dress and sat down with us.

“My favorite media maven,” she exclaimed, hugging me. “Are you ready for this week?”

“I’m always ready,” I smiled.

“Let’s get a picture,” she said, pulling out her phone and snapping a selfie of us. “Bennet follows me now on social media and really enjoys when I post stuff like this. And you look so stunning. I’ll tell him to show Xavier.”

I have no idea how I kept a smile plastered to my face. Hannah kept babbling about Bennet and some phone call and a salacious late night video chat while she posted the photo. I grabbed whatever drink Killian had in his hand and finished it.

“Hey,” he frowned. “You owe me one.”

“They’re free,” I motioned to the bar.

Drinks flowed. Music blared. The floor vibrated from the bass, almost echoing my heartbeat. Lights spun around, flashing in various colors. We danced and laughed and drank and danced some more. Killian was right. It did feel like we were in our twenties again.

Hannah kept snapping photos. Killian kept recording videos. Max and I kept dancing until we were breathless and needed to sit.

A server appeared with another round of shots for all of us. Yes, yes, yes. The more the merrier.

“These are courtesy of your quarterback.”

We all craned our necks to find Noah Tate. He was over by the railing dancing with his girlfriend.

“Noah,” we shouted, raising our glasses. “Stay Legendary.”

With an answering yell, he came over and squeezed his six-foot-six frame in on the couch next to me. My phone was laying on the table, so I asked the server to grab it for a photo. We all smushed together as close as we could. The server kept waving her hands together for everyone to get even closer.

“Victoria,” Noah said loudly in my ear. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but sit in my lap so the big guys can squeeze in. Tracey won’t mind.”

I hopped in his lap giving a thumbs up to his girlfriend. She returned the thumbs up and had her own phone out, documenting what was now becoming a team photo. So was Killian. I’d bet all of Noah’s championship rings Killian was live streaming this moment.

Hannah ended up sitting in a lap as well. So did anyone who wasn’t a linebacker, running back, wide receiver, safety, or tight end. The camaraderie in this organization ran so much deeper than just the fifty-three guys on the field. I loved working with this team. With these amazing humans.

“It’s two in the morning. Do you know where your morals are?” Some drunk guy shouted to nobody in particular from the sunroof of his limo.

“I’ll ask your dad when I see him in a few,” Killian shouted back.

“And you say I’m the bad influence,” I laughed, wobbling a bit in my heels.

We were on the hunt for some street food. The greasier and saltier, the better. I can’t remember the last time I was out this late drinking and partying and generally ignoring being an adult.

The vibrant sounds of New York City were just as lively in the middle of the night as they were during the day. I loved it.

“Pretzel or hot dog?” Maxim asked, standing by a street vendor.

“Both.” I replied.

“As you wish.”

Scarfing down this food was priority number one, then flopping into my bed. The boys ended up ordering hot dogs and pretzels as well. We walked together down the street for a bit, double fisting our post-party snacks. Maxim managed to find some empty cafe tables for us to sit.

I yelped when the cool metal chair hit my bare legs.

“Aw, poor thing’s cold,” Killian teased. “Wanna sit in my lap? Noah won’t mind.”

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