Page 5 of Bound and Blitzed

I twirl on my barstool and come face to face with Avery Callaway, the star quarterback for the Knoxville Coyotes football—American football—team.

I arch an eyebrow. “Is it?” I murmur. The guy lives in the same building as me. The fact that we would frequent the same neighborhood haunts is hardly surprising.

“Yep,” he continues, resting his elbows on the bar, a fresh pint of beer in between his hands. “I’ve been seeing you around a lot lately. At the field, in the lobby of my building, in cafés, and now, here.” He stares at me expectantly.

What does he want me to say?

I stare back, waiting for him to continue.

After several beats of silence, he sighs. “Listen, I’m sure you’re a nice girl, so I’m going to say this as gently as I can. Your crush is flattering. Truly. If you want an autograph or picture, I’m happy to sign whatever you want”—he points to a bar napkin—“or smile for a selfie.” He glances at my cell phone. “But to keep appearing at the same places as me…this has to stop.”

My mouth drops open. I can’t help it.

Is he serious right now? A bubble of laughter wrapped in an irrational edge of frustration rises inside me. “You think I’m…stalking you?” I spit out, more hostile than I intend.

He jerks back by the venom in my tone, uncertainty crossing his expression.

“That’s so typical of you,” I continue.

His eyebrows fly into his hairline. “Typical ofme?”

“Yes, you.” I wave a hand in his direction. “Athletes in general,” I continue, unable to stop. With my conversation with Papá fresh in my mind, I continue, “You all think the world revolves around you. That you’re at the center of everyone else’s story. Well, guess what? Sometimes, you’re not.”

Avery frowns, regarding me strangely. “What—” He shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Having a glass of wine and blowing off steam after a very frustrating conversation with my papá,” I bite out. “And you’ve seen me in the lobby of your building because, surprise, I live there too!”

He rears back in surprise. “But the stadium?—”

“I’m not at your football field because I’m a fan. I was there, twice, because Raia and Carla dragged me along. Our sisters are friends,” I say slowly.

“I know that,” he snaps back.

“Raia, who, by the way, I really like, wanted to support Cohen. And, I guess, you.” I toss a hand in his direction, trying to soften the sneer that curls my lip as I glare at the cocky quarterback. “I’m not stalking you. I don’t want you to sign anything or say cheese for some stupid selfie. I’m just…God, I’m trying to live my life. Same as you.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, looking truly horrified.

At the bewilderment mixed with humiliation in his expression, my anger lessens.

“I…” Avery closes his eyes. “I’m an asshole.”

At his omission, I laugh. “Honestly, I get it.”

His eyes pop open. “You do?”

“Sure. I’m related to many elite athletes. You are all very self-centered.”

He chuckles at my assessment, not at all offended. “That’s true.”

I nod in agreement.

He turns to me fully. “I’m sorry for being an ass and making such a terrible assumption.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He shakes his head, holding out a hand. “Can we start over? I’m Avery.”

Sighing, I place my hand in his, surprised by the warmth of his fingers as they wrap around my palm. “Valentina.”

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