Page 56 of Keeper
I could see the looks on my teammates’ faces: they were absolutely eating this up and doing everything they could to keep from bursting into laughter.
Oh, fuck,I thought,why am I still talking?
“And hey,” my loose lips continued, “it’s not like Ineedher. I was just on a brutal slump. I had to get that first win out of the way. She had nothing to do with it. It was just a coincidence. I’m never gonna see her again. And that’s cool.”
My rant finally ended, and the boys could now crack up in laughter.
“Yep, you’re never gonna see her again,” Cameron repeated. “And you soundtotallyfine with that, by the way.”
Mikey Vedros wore a shit-eating grin, too. “Not at all obsessed. No, sirree. That’s why you keep bringing her up out of nowhere.”
“Yeah,” I said, “because you’re allobviouslythinking it—not me.”
It didn’t matter how much I tried to defend myself, the jokes kept coming until I’d had enough.
“Would you guys feel better if I went out on the dance floor and took home the first random hot chick who wanted to bone?” I asked.
“You mean, if you acted like younormallydo?” Parisi asked with a laugh. “Then, yes—yes, actually, I would feel better!”
“Fine.” I slammed the rest of my drink and stood. “Then let’s go find some broads.”
The boys cheered and, after they pounded their drinks, we went as a group to the dance floor. A clamor of interest rippled over the dance floor as the girls eyed us and strategically positioned themselves to talk to us.
Before I stepped foot on the dance floor, though, I felt my phone buzz against my thigh with a text message. Excited, I fumbled around in my pocket for my phone. For a fraction of a second, some drunk and desperate part of myself believed that Ainsley had found a way to contact me. But the rational part of myself knew thathadto be bullshit, because I never gave her my number. Hell, I never even gave her my last name or told her what I did for a living.
But that didn’t blunt my disappointment when I saw the message was from my agent, Pete, and not Ainsley.
“TV33, my man!”his message read.“What a game! Time to turn your season around so you can CA$H in this year, baby! P.S. Don’t forget about that photo shoot tomorrow. Hope you’re ready for your big day with Marta Mansour.”He concluded his message with a winky face emoji and a sweat emoji (x3).
Fuck.I’d almost completely forgotten about the photo shoot. Now that I’d snapped the losing streak, though, did I still need to do that? Wouldn’t it only be a distraction now that I’d finally got things heading in the right direction again?
Drunk and surly, I started tapping out a reply. “Cancel it. I don’t wanna do it anymore. I got my win.”
But before I could press send on that text, a girl confidently attached herself to my side, pressing her breasts against my ribs. I lowered my phone and checked her out—a smoking-hot blonde who looked like she knew exactly what she wanted: me.
“Hey goalie,” she said, her voice husky. She handed me a Sharpie. “Can you sign this for me?” She slipped the sleeve of her dress off her shoulder, catching her boob in her cupped hand.
But that one little word—sign—put Cooper’s voice in my head. And I heard him say,
Watch the signs, kid.
I ignored Coops and put pen to flesh. A lump grew in my throat as I scribbled my autograph on the top of her round, jiggly breast.
Tanner Vaughn #33.
“There,” I said, underlining my name for good measure.
A delirious smile tugged at her lips.
“Thanks,” she said as she pulled her shoulder strap back on. “Now that you’ve branded me—” She paused, running the tips of her long nails across my waist. “—youownme.”
“Is that right?” I growled, feasting my eyes on her cleavage.
Cooper’s voice popped into my head again.Don’t do anything stupid, kid.
“Sure is,” she said. “Which means you can dowhateveryou want to me.”
My eyebrow arched with interest. “Yeah? Like what?”
