Page 26 of Play Me
Gray takes it all in.
“There’s a buffet for breakfast and lunch,” I tell him. “You’ll have snacks with your name on them in that cooler midmorning and midafternoon. They customize them to meet your nutritional needs depending on the day’s activities. I alsoopted you into dinner service. So if you didn’t override that in your flagrant dismissal of my efforts, you can pick up a boxed dinner before you leave the facilities in the evening.” I sigh. “Any questions?”
“Nope. Renn will give you an A+.”
I nod at one of the chefs as we exit the room, biting back thefuck youthat I want to lodge at Gray. “The elevators are over there,” I say as we move through the lobby again. “Or you can use the staircase to go up. You can read, so follow the signs. As you may recall from yesterday, the administration offices are located on the upper levels. We can go up there in a bit, but let’s start down here.”
He doesn’t respond, so I head down the corridor toward the player wing.
Silence looms between us like a gaping chasm that neither of us wants to, or can, cross. We might be shoulder to shoulder as we move through the building, but we couldn’t be farther apart. At least the silence gives me a moment to pull myself back together.
Screens are positioned along the walls, hosting muted videos of great plays and victorious moments in the Royals history. I can’t help but grin at the way the players jump on each other in celebration of a special moment. I’ve never experienced that.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be on a team. The closest I ever got to being a part of one was when Gianna played volleyball in middle school, and I went to all of her games. My dad couldn’t afford it, choosing to spend his money on vodka and lottery tickets, so I pretended I wasn’t a sports girl. In reality, it’s all I ever really wanted to be.
What I was after probably wasn’t a team, but a sense of belonging. I’d come home from school and turn on the television, losing myself in sitcoms. The laughter gave our home a sense of levity, and when I sat down with their fictionalfamilies for dinner, my canned ravioli tasted a little better. I chased that feeling for a long time—until I was old enough to realize it didn’t exist in the real world. It’s called fiction for a reason.
“To the left is the wellness center,” I say, pointing at a sign. “You’ll get Wednesday’s scheduled massage in there.”
He arches a brow.Tell me you at least scanned my email.
“The cold plunges, hot tubs, saunas—all that stuff is a part of the center. You can access that anytime.” I lead him farther down the hallway. “The strength and conditioning rooms are to your right. We’ll tackle that in a minute. But this door is the locker room.” We stop in front of the bold purple door. “Go in first and make sure it’s empty.”
He smirks, licking his lips. “Scared of what you might see?”
“It’s called being respectful, asshole. I know that’s a novel idea in your world.”
“You are just a ray of fucking sunshine. Do you know that?” He pokes his head into the room. “All clear. Not a dick in sight.”
“Maybe from your vantage point.”
He gives me a mocking, smug grin. “Aw, are you working on getting a sense of humor?”
“Shut up and move.”
I step in behind him, rechecking the time. I have to be on the other side of town in two hours and can’t get off track because Gray was late—and there’s still so much to cover. I need to hand him off to someone else as soon as possible.
“From here, you can access the wellness center, weight room, and the pitch,” I say, pointing at different doors. “The showers are through that archway, and I’m sure you can figure out which locker is yours.”
He moves across the room to a gold locker denoted with his name and number on a shiny metal plate above it. I’m not sure whether he’s in awe of the locker room or nervous about beingin it, but I can’t help but notice his stiffened shoulders and tense back. He switches his bag from one hand to the other as he pulls the door open.
“I laminated and taped your practice and game schedule to the inside wall,” I say. “I also included a list of coaches and weekly meeting times. Those could change, of course. You’ll obviously attend the group meetings for backs, but I added the group times for forward, too.”Which I thought was an added touch.
He sets his bag down and surveys the contents that I carefully curated over the weekend. Balls, resistance bands, and a first-aid kit. Deodorant. Backup mouthpiece, just in case. His training jersey and shorts hang from a hook with a towel folded neatly below it.
“When did you do this?” he asks without turning around.
There’s an edge to his voice that putsmeon edge.
“Before you got here,” I say, stopping myself from pointing out that I was rushing around this morning even though he wasn’t.
Gray turns slowly to me.
Uneasiness blooms in my stomach as his eyes find mine. My spine stiffens as I brace myself in anticipation of his reaction. I don’t know how in the world he could get mad about this, but something tells me that’s the case.
“The correct response would bethank you,” I say.
“I told you to back off.”
