Page 67 of The Player's Obsession

“Exactly. Hey, the first playoff game is next week. I’ll have the guys get us box seats so we can sit together. Invite your friend. The more the merrier,” she says.

“That’s sweet of you. I’m sure Lucinda would love it. We were at the last game.”

“Ah yes, the game that put you on the map.”

It’s weird that the nation thought of us as a couple from us making eyes at each other. I’m so out of the loop about how social media influences public opinions. How did so many people jump to the conclusion that we got married? It might be time for me to learn how to participate, seeing as social media is never going away. I don’t think anyone would care about my opinions. Our family tree is small, and there are a few that make me happy. I’m obscure about where I live. I don’t have anything important to say.

I love looking at professional hockey and football players on social media feeds. I get lost in the glamour of their summer weddings. The venues are perfectly decorated. I assume they hire people to decorate. Some weddings are destination weddings on tropical islands.

“I still can’t get over the media coverage. I’m no one special,” I murmur.

“You’re with the most popular tight end in the NFL. I’m surprised they didn’t pick up on the two of you sooner.”

“I never thought about it.” If the press had more time, they would have uncovered my brother and his criminal history. His addictions are terrible optics as I work for a pharmaceutical company.

As we round the corner, I catch Oliver speaking to Melanie outside the bar. They are in a two-man huddle, and I’d love to hear what is going on. Since catfights are not part of the job assignment, I link arms with Rose, smile, and walk past them.

“I’m sure they are wishing each other good luck,” Rose says. “Oliver only has eyes for you.”

“Really?”

“You bet. Aren’t you with him because he worships you, and his world revolves around you?”

“I don’t know. He’s sweet and romantic. I’ve never been treated so well.”

“He’s a keeper, for sure.”

I want him to be happy. Is Oliver the one? Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy? I’ve been on so many first dates that never led to a second date that I’ve decided this deal is a good alternative. There’s no pressure wondering if he’ll call and waiting anxiously for his next text. We’ve been in touch constantly, and I admit to myself we’re dating.

The only question left unanswered is, what happens on the third date? We had the first dinner date, followed by the game, and he dropped off the jersey with his name on it. It’s duly noted that it’s a rite of passage for the players to have their girlfriends wear their jerseys. The jersey was definitely his way of claiming me. It’s silly, but I feel like Cinderella. The only difference is she knew when the clock struck twelve that it would all end. When will Oliver and I call it quits?

If he wanted to put on a good show to make Melanie jealous, we did a great job as she was talking to him. They could have gone all weekend and avoided each other.

Rose and I arrive at the bar’s entrance.

“I’m going to hang here and text Lucinda. I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Great. I’ll see you inside,” she says as she turns on her heels and disappears into the crowd.

I have a second to myself. I never expected to like his friends, and I feel crappy for misleading them with this charade.

Then, there’s the fact that we’re in a room with one bed. Um, we’re at the point in the relationship when everyone expects sex. The girl feels pressure that she has to show she is attracted to the man, and if she isn’t, the man will move on to another woman. The third date also means that if he only wants to get in my pants, he’ll dump me the next day. Oliver doesn’t impress me as the type to do that. Besides, he still needs me, and I need my payday.

With the New Year rushing in, will I get lucky and fall in love with a great man?

I text Lucinda.

Me: What’s happening?

Lucinda: I’m not the one the media is buzzing about. What’s going on?

Me: It’s funny, everyone assumes we’re married.

Lucinda: I saw the ring. Are you kidding me? He’s never reselling that ring. I can’t imagine how much it cost.

Me: You don’t want to know. I’ll send you a picture. It’s so pretty.

I snap a picture of the ring and send it to her.

---