Page 4 of Their Greatest Strength

The apples of her cheeks burn bright beneath her makeup as she shoves my arm. “That’s not what I meant, Jamieson, and you know it.”

“It’s Jamie, babe,” I remind her.

“You’re a flirt,Jamie. Now, answer my question before my boss replaces me with Edgar again.”

I suck air through my teeth and give her hand a final touch before backing up. “Not being able to see your beautiful face on the sideline every practice would be a crime.”

“So, let’s try this again. With the season over the halfway mark now, can you tell me what your main focus is when it comes to improving your game for the last half?”

Pawing at my jersey, I peel it up my chest to wipe at the sweat sticking to my throat. The final week of the August heat is in full swing, and our two-hour practice only finished a handful of minutes ago.

Jas’s eyes wander to my abdomen, wide and hot, and I swallow a knowing laugh before answering her question correctly this time.

“I’ve been working a lot with our receivers coach on my footwork and timing to make sure I’m where I need to be more often for our QB. That’s definitely been a big focus for me this year.”

I’m the top-paid wide receiver in the CFL, but that doesn’t mean shit if I’m not fast enough to beat out a solid defense and get a ball in my hands. I’ve lost track of how many extra hours I’ve put in the last few months, striving to be better.

“Have you noticed a difference so far? Has your chemistry with Jaxon Hayes changed this season? It appears that he’s searching for you more often than he maybe previously would have.”

Releasing my jersey, I absorb the question and think twice about my answer. Media training has been a blessing when it comes to pain-in-the-ass reporters, but sometimes, I’d love to be as honest as I want with the good ones. Censoring myself for the good of the team is more difficult than one would think, even if I don’t have anything necessarily bad to say.

It doesn’t help when we keep getting asked the same questions. That’s if more than the same two reporters come to talk tous. It’s like the Pythons have been shoved to the bottom of the Must Interview list the past two seasons.

“Been watching me often, Jas?”

She blinks and snaps her eyes up my body to my face. They tighten at the corners. “Everyone has. Your new contract sent the fans a bit haywire. There’s a spotlight on you right now.”

“There already was. Now, everyone just has another reason to stare besides my outrageous talent.”

“I guess we’ll see during Saturday’s game. Are you excited to face Edmonton?” she asks, trying to keep control of the interview.

“I’m ready. The team’s ready.”

“So are we. Thank you for taking the time today, and good luck Saturday.”

I tip my chin and wink before leaving her at the sideline and jogging away from the other reporter hounding Zach Mercer, our best defensive tackle. Back when I first joined the team, we didn’t allow on-field interviews before, after, or during practices, but Coach has been as pressured from upstairs about the media as the players have been.

We’re supposed to be focused, not eyeing the cameras at the sidelines. But according to the owner of the BC Pythons, we’re not involved enough. We’ve dropped down the list of in-demand teams with potential players, fans, and the media. Considering our rebuild team status, nobody gives two flying shits about us. We’re to do everything we can to change that as soon as possible, and that goes beyond playing better.

Personally, I just don’t have the time for them. If I’m not playing, I’m at the gym or with my family. The media has never been a priority for me, regardless of how much I love to see my handsome face onscreen.

“Bateman!” Jaxon Hayes, my QB, uses his scorning father shout to grab my attention from where he’s avoiding the media down the field. “Over the shoulder!”

There’s no point in going to meet him. Instead, I fit myhelmet back over my head and go to my starting mark. Coach is watching alongside the reporters when I get into position, stressfully pulling at the end of his mustache. A beat later, his whistle blows, and I’m moving.

Hayes lets the football loose in a perfect spiral that I track as I take off down the field. I pump my legs beneath me as I steady my breaths and smack my gloved hands together. Adrenaline burns my blood as I take the curve of my route and snatch the ball from the air, cradling it in my hands.

“Show-off!” Chase Hudson, my favourite wide receiver besides myself, yells before booing like an ass.

He’s standing beside Jaxon, pointing accusingly at me as I jog over to them, panting. The running felt good an hour ago. Now, not so much.

“I wasn’t showing off, Chase. I’m just that much better than you,” I say through a toothy grin.

Sweat glistens off his dark skin as he rolls his brown eyes at me. “In your fucking dreams.”

“Figured we should give them something to gawk at while they’re here. Maybe they’ll give you a spot on their lame podcasts with that catch,” Jaxon huffs out.

Our QB grabs the ball from my hands and grips it tight in his. Standing two inches taller than me at six four, he runs a hand through his sandy-blond hair and nudges his chin toward the sidelines where the reporters linger.

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