Page 4 of Taken By the Grumpy Player

Apparently, Vivian’s family emergency is too severe for her to come back to work. Kenny didn’t give me the details, keeping Vivian’s privacy, which I completely understand, but since she isn’t coming back to work for the rest of the season, her job is now mine. The job that I’ve been working my entire life toward has just fallen into my lap, and I didn’t hesitate to accept it the second Kenny offered it to me.

“You did an incredible job with your first interviews,” he had praised during the meeting, making my cheeks flush at the compliment. “That, combined with your work experience here and Vivian’s recommendation, you’re now the interim head reporter for the channel in terms of reporting on the Rebels. It’s more hours, better pay, and a lot of traveling, since you’ll have to be where the team is. When the season ends, we can talk about making things permanent after we review your performance, since Vivian would also be up for promotion. Are you up for it?”

Am I up for it?I could’ve kissed Kenny for the opportunity. But instead of screaming and dancing on the table like I wanted to, I maintained an air of professionalism, thanked him and accepted the job. This is all I have ever wanted, and now it’s mine—with a chance of it being a permanent position, too. Even if it was sudden and part of me felt unprepared despite doing well my first time, I would be crazy not to accept it.

So, I did, and now I’m in the bathroom and trying not to freak out more than I already am, because the lady next to me might call security if I scream again.

When she leaves, the door falling shut behind her, and I’m the only one left in the ladies’ room, I stare at my reflection and exhale slowly, loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls.Interim head reporter. That’s my official title, and just thinking of it brings an uncontrollable smile to my face. The excitement buzzes through my veins as I bounce in my spot for a moment before pulling out my phone to open up my group chat with my two best friends.

Willow:Guess who got promoted!!

Their replies, unsurprisingly, come instantly.

Clare:AHH!! CONGRATS!

Vick:HELL YES. Guess who’s going out tonight to celebrate!

My grin widens, if that’s even possible, and I send a thumbs up emoji in return. If there’s anyone I want to celebrate with, it’s with the two of them. I’ve known Clare since she moved to Chicago back in seventh grade, the two of us becoming inseparable since the moment she arrived to my second period English class. The two of us met Victoria during orientation at Chicago State University, where I studied communications, while Clare majored in psychology and Vick in business. From that day, our duo became a trio, and it’s been like that ever since.

To the point where the three of us started living together since we graduated. All of us craved the independence that came with living on our own, but living together in one apartment is cheaper than doing it all on our own individually. Except earlier this year, when our lease was coming to an end, Clare moved in with her fiancé after he popped the question, and Vick and I found an adorable two-bedroom apartment for us to move into. But it’s almost like Clare didn’t move out, because her place is close to ours, and the three of us hang out whenever we can.

And celebrating a promotion, of course, is the perfect reason to hang out.

“I mean, I hope Vivian is okay,” Vick says later that night when the three of us are sitting at a high-top chair at one of our favorite bars. She’s nursing a Moscow mule, playing with the straw as she grins at me. “But you deserve this, Willow. They made the right choice, picking you to be head reporter.”

“Interimhead reporter,” I correct, though I’m grinning around my own straw, sipping a vodka cranberry with pineapple juice.

Clare snorts. “Tomato, to-mah-to.” She waves her hand dismissively before raising her eyebrows at me. “Does that mean you’re going to be, like,surroundedby hot football players?”

Before I can respond, Vick grabs my arm and says seriously, “And if you are, can you set me up with one?”

I let out a laugh at that, knowing Vick is only half serious as I shake my head. “I mean, yeah, I will be,” I tell them, watching as their eyes light up with excitement. I laugh once more. To Vick, I say, “But you can probably do better than a football player.”

The blonde scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, you mean better than a tall, handsome, rich professional athlete?” she muses sarcastically. “Please, point me in the direction.”

I chuckle as Clare shoots me a knowing grin. “Willow’s just put off by her interview with Reed Maxwell, I think.”

At the mention of the Rebels’ starting quarterback, a groan escapes me as I bow my head, though the girls’ laughter and the music playing in the bar drown the aggravated sound out. “You guyssawthat interview, right?” I ask once I lift my head, looking at them with wide eyes. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t the easiest person to interview, but does he have to be so rude about it? And then afterward, telling me Ismile too much? Who the hell says that?”

Recounting the events makes my skin flush more, heating up with the annoyance that pumps through my veins. The alcohol doesn’t help, yet I take another sip of the cold drink anyway hoping it will do something to calm me down.

“Yeah, that was uncalled for,” Vick agrees with a frown. She nudges her knee with mine under the table, smiling. “Feel free to set me up with anyone but him.” That gets a laugh out of me, and it widens Vick’s smile, and I know that was her goal in the first place. “But seriously, don’t let that asshole get under your skin. You said the other players were fun to interview, right?” I nod. I only interviewed Leo Mackenzie and Caden Bennett after talking with Reed, and those two had been pleasant and friendly. “Good. Don’t let one jerk ruin your overall experience.”

My lips turn downward in an impressed smile, nodding in agreement as Clare asks Vick, “Since when are you so wise?”

Vick snorts with a roll of her eyes. “I work in business, guys. I’m surrounded by misogynistic assholes with superiority complexes.”

I suck in a breath through my teeth. “Fair enough.”

The three of us continue the conversation, flying from one topic to the next, as is the usual for us. Vick tells us about work and a new project she’s co-lead on, while Clare gives us updates on how the wedding planning is going. “Let me know a date next month when both of you are free so we can get your dresses,” she tells Vick and me.

It’s going to be a small wedding, according to Clare. The bridal party isn’t that big; she didn’t want to choose between Vick and me by picking one of us as her Maid of Honor, so the two of us are the only bridesmaids, while her fiancé, Alex, has his two brothers as his groomsmen. Vick and I are sharing all of the duties that would go to the Maid of Honor, including planning Clare’s bachelorette party.

“I refuse to attend your wedding without a date,” Vick declares, pouting at the mere idea of having to go alone.

“I’ll be your date,” I bat my eyelashes at her.

She snorts. “Please. If you don’t snag a football player as your date, then I’m going to be so disappointed in you.”

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