Page 54 of Who's Saving You
Loving: We’ll see. But just know, my girl’s hotter, my stats are better, and I don’t have to explain what we are every time someone asks
Me: You’re right. You just have to explain why she keeps liking my photos
21
Noelle
The locker room still buzzes from victory, loud and obnoxious because they aren’t in their hometown and need to rub it in. Half-empty Gatorade bottles, towels draped over benches, and the echo of laughter spills from the back. Cameras flash in the press room as Nik walks in with that practiced swagger, hair damp from the shower, and his signature game-day dark navy suit with the tie slightly loosened in a relaxed kind of way.
Something happened on our travels out to Houston. It was quiet and unassuming, but the air around Nik and me shifted. He was protective without being overbearing. He was considerate and even let me get some interview questions in. And when he went to leave for the field, he lingered a moment longer than usual. I’m not sure if it wasanI’m afraid you’ll run when I go, or anI’m afraid you’ll be here when I get back.
I’m sitting in the back row, press pass around my neck, pen and pad in hand, Sour Patch Kids in my pocket. Even after that moment between us, I still mumble about how he dragged me to another state so I could sit on cold plastic seats and pretend this is normal. It’s not, though, and the fact that I’m enjoying being here, with him, should be a red flag for me.I’m already in too deep.
Starks and Jameson poke their head in from behind the curtain, and the room cheers. Starks takes that as his pass to enter and says, “Sorry to interrupt, ladies and gentlemen, but I just need to let Nik know the locker room voted, and he’s buying tonight.”
“I said I’d buy thefirst round.”
Jameson laughs, his boy-next-door demeanor in full effect. “Oh, rookie, you’ll learn these guys don’t hear anything pastsomeone else is buying.”
Someone from the press calls out, “Hope you saved your signing bonus! I’ve seen these guys eat half their body weight!”
The room fills with laughs and cheers, and Jameson claps Nik on the shoulder. I watch their interaction; Jameson is only a few years older than Nik, but their relationship is like that of a big brother looking out for the younger one. “I’ll cover you tonight, rook.” He smirks, looking at Tristan, then turns to the crowd as they walk back behind the curtain. “Sorry once again for the interruption, folks!” Then back to Nik, “You showed up tonight. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
He winks at Nik, and Nik tips his head to him. It’s a quick interaction, but the soft murmur of the crowd lets me know they all heard it.
Nik sits up in his seat and scans the crowd. When his eyes land on me, his shoulders drop in relief and a slight grin tugs at his lips. I pretend my heart didn’t just do a flip as he adjusts the mic and says, “Alright. Hit me.”
A few chuckles ripple through the room.
The first reporter steps up. “DeJean, Green Journal. Nik, two touchdowns, one fumble recovery, hell of a game. What clicked out there?”
Nik leans forward, elbows braced on the table. “Sometimes, you just see the opening. The timing’s right, and then you gotta just trust your gut and trust your hands.” He flexes his hands, and for whatever reason, those butterflies are back in my belly. “Timing’s everything. Just glad I had it after last week.”
The reporter chuckles. “You seemed particularly focused tonight. Anything special about this game?”
Nik shrugs, feigning innocence. “You could say I had some personal motivation.” He lets the room hang on that for a second. “Sometimes a man just wants toperformwhen it matters most.” His eyes flick to me, and that wolfish grin spreads. “Plus, I had to make sure Loving felt what it’s like to play opposite me.”
“Ah, yes, two-thirds of the Trickie Nickies were on the field tonight. How did it feel playing against your best friend?”
He sits back in the chair, one hand tapping the table in front of him and the other rubbing at his neck. “It was definitely different. We’ve never been on opposite teams before.”
“Was there some friendly smack talk out there?”
“Oh, yeah. All week long. If you saw our text thread, it didn't look quite so brotherly.” Nik laughs, and it’s genuine. He really loves his best friends. “Sobawas in on it, too, while he sat in the stands. I’m just glad I came out on top after all the chatter.”
A second reporter stands. “Mitchell, Liberty Chronicle. There was a moment in the third quarter when you signaled something unusual before the snap. Want to fill us in?”
That grin again. “I can’t give away all my secrets. Let’s just say sometimes, plans change. You see something unexpected, you make the adjustment. It’s all about flexibility under pressure.” Then, with a tilt of his head, his voice dropping just enough for me to take notice, he adds, “Not every play’s scripted, after all.”
My foot is tapping, and I make a point to steady myself, reaching for more candy. Every word he speaks feels like it’s flowing through me.
“You’ve become theSaintof what people call ‘clean football.’ How do you keep your cool when the game gets ugly?”
He smiles with just a hint of something beneath it, something boyish and up to no good. “It’s important to remember that others are watching. For me, I keep my cool until I’m forced to be hot. That type of pressure’s good. It shows you what you're made of. Sometimes the challenge brings out the best in you or thetruthin a situation.”
That last word,truth, is deliberate. And his gaze lingers on me again.
“Is that why you stepped between those two players at the end of the first quarter? You seemed to play peacemaker in their scuffle.”
