Page 17 of A Whole New Play

“I’m telling you, socials are where it’s at, man. Women just DM you. You don’t even have to pursue them,” Deon Walters, the young defensive lineman who earned the title as the best pass rusher in the league last year continues rambling on about his recent triumph using whatever popular dating app he downloaded last week.

“Uh-huh,” I mumble, barely listening. I like most of my teammates, but I’m not going to lie, I feel myself losing brain cells when I listen to some of the younger guys talk. I’m only twenty-nine, but I swear, the generation gap between us feels as wide as the Grand Canyon sometimes.

“I’m serious, man. Just download the app. I promise you’ll have women throwing themselves at you within an hour.”

“I’m not interested in women throwing themselves at me.” I pick up the weights for my next set.

Rather than be dissuaded by my reply, Deon doubles down. “Come on, man. You need some stress relief or something. I haven’t seen you run so slow like… ever.”

I lower the weights before my final rep and look up at him with a frown. “A woman is hardly going to relieve my stress.” In my experience, they only complicate things. Like all the women I’ve tried to hire as a nanny for my kids only to have them throw themselves at me at the first opportunity.

I know using my personal experiences to paint the female sex with a broad brush isn’t fair. If I were in a better mental state, I wouldn’t do it. But my life’s been a mess for months now, and no matter how many times I try to get help in the form of a reliable nanny, they never work out.

Carlee and my parents say I’m too picky when it comes to choosing a nanny. I disagree. There’s nothing wrong with having standards for the person I will be trusting to care for the two people I love most in this world. And there’s nothing wrong with wishing I could find a nice, late-aged woman who has no romantic designs on me for the job. The only problem is most nannies in that category are either already hired by a big-wig businessman or athlete in the Dallas metro area, or they can’t be as flexible with the schedules as the upcoming NFL season requires.

The urge to bang my head against the wall hits me daily.

Deon huffs. “Well, whatever will relieve your stress, you should do it soon, man. You’re playing like shit.”

I bark a laugh. Trust Deon to not shy away from insulting me to my face. “I’m working on it.”

“Good.” He turns to the wall mirror and resumes his workout, leaving me to do the same.

I get in one set of shoulder presses when Deon, once again, interrupts, “Heads up, Coach is heading this way.”

Through the mirror’s reflection, I follow Deon’s gaze and see Coach Palmer weaving his way through the crowded locker room. The well-liked Defensive Coordinator exchanges words with nearly everyone he passes, but there’s no denying he moves in my direction.

I stand from the exercise bench and re-rack my weights with a sigh. It was only a matter of time before one of the coaches wanted to speak to me about my lackluster performance. I’d just hoped I’d be able to start turning it around before they did.

“Hey, Jones. Got a second?”

I straighten my spine then turn around and meet my favorite coach’s eye, doing my best not to let him detect my unease. “Yeah. Sure.”

He nods and hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s go into the hall.”

Dozens of eyes follow me as I trail after Coach Palmer. The moment I’m out of earshot, the team will gossip about this situation like a bunch of preteens. I make a point to hide the emotion from my face and brace myself for what’s to come.

We step into the hall. I cross my arms as Coach Palmer closes the weight room door behind us. Movement from the corner of my eye draws my attention. A young woman stands there. Immediately, I look away, thinking she’s one of the guy’s girlfriends or something. But then my eyes snap back to her and my jaw drops as recognition hits me.

Valerie.

All at once, I’m hit with memories of a heated night spent between the sheets of my luxury resort bed.

Breathless moans fill my ears.

I feel her silky smooth skin against my rough fingertips.

Her long hair caresses my naked chest as she rides me from above.

Our night together had been mind-blowing. The ecstasy I experienced felt like a dream. A perfect dream. One I never wanted to end.

But not only did that dream end, it turned into one of the greatest disappointments of my life when I woke up alone.

I’d spent the entire day searching the resort for the woman who rocked my world, but I didn’t find her anywhere.

I felt crazy.

Part of me questioned if I’d imagined everything. I’d wondered if stress had finally broken me, causing me to invent the incredible sexual experience as a reprieve from my life’s worries.

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