If I wasn’t in such a mood, I might laugh at him for apologizing.
“But he’s not me and he can’t just shrug it off. That’s not how he’s wired. Harding is in it for the game, not the fame—being in the paper is the last thing he wants and this bullshit? He’s going to run from it, not toward it.”
“But why is he running from me? I didn’t do anything!” I can’t keep the panic out of my voice, the sound a bit desperate. “I just want to talk to him. I’m freaking out, Buzz. Trace.” Whatever his damn name is.
“He’s running because he likes you and he’s running before you run from him. Does that make sense?”
Not really. “Why would I run from him?”
“He might be a professional athlete, but his self-esteem is shit.”
I have about a million follow-up questions, but Trace isn’t the one I should be asking—I should be talking to Noah, only he refuses to take my calls.
“My hands are tied here, Buzz.” It feels so strange calling him that. Reminds me of Buzz Lightyear to the rescue and now I’m thinking of animated movies and going to infinity and beyond.
“They’re not. Relax, we’ll figure it out—though you’ll have to ease into it with this one. Like I said, he’s sensitive.”
Of all the people who might comfort me and give me relationship advice, I never in a zillion years would have thought it would be this guy. Unreal.
“What the heck do I do? He won’t answer my calls or talk to me. I can’t even get him to reply to a text. He probably blocked me.”
“Yeah, he’s being a bitch about this.” Buzz makes a hmm noise on the other end of the line. “I think you’re going to have to ambush him. He needs to see you, but he’s never going to call you.”
Ambush? Since when do guys like an ambush? Um, since NEVER.
“I’m not doing that!” But also, “What do you mean? Explain.”
I walk to the window, feeling emptier inside than the office I’m standing in, looking down at the road, not a single car coming or going at this hour of the night.
My stomach growls.
“Hear me out before you shoot it down.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“We have practice tomorrow—you know where the stadium is?”
“Uh, doesn’t everyone?”
“There’s a side entrance we go in and I think you should be waiting there when we’re done so you can talk to him.”
No.
No, no, hell to the no. “I am not doing that! It’s creepy!” I am not a fangirl, lot-lizard groupie who stalks around the stadium!
“Listen, I know, but it’s the only way you’re going to get to talk to him, unless you plan on waiting for him to come to his senses, which will be never.”
I mull this over, biting down on my bottom lip and chewing.
Now or never.
From what little I know about Noah that does sound accurate.
Ugh, shoot me now!
“What would I have to do?”
“Show up at the side gate, show security the pass I’m going to text you, then wait in the parking lot.”
“Then what?”
“Uh—then you talk.” I swear, the asshole is probably rolling his eyes like I’m the moron here, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’d be a perfect match for Claire—not that I’d wish this guy on anyone. He’s too full of himself, too attractive for his own good, and cocky, although he is proving to be a decent friend.
Color me surprised.
“I won’t have any problems getting in? I didn’t think they let people in when there isn’t a game.”
“Well, you’re not getting into the stadium—you’d be waiting in the parking lot. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And you don’t think Noah will think I’m a stalker?”
There’s an uncertain pause. “I doubt it. That’s not how his brain works.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance he’ll think I’m a stalker.”
Buzz’s laugh is low. “A slight chance, but not likely.”
“How reassuring.”
“Hey, the guy is miserable—don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”
“Miserable? Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I don’t want to throw my buddy under the bus by telling the girl he likes he’s behaving like a teenage girl.”
If I wasn’t so upset myself, I would giggle at that. “How is he acting?”
“Like a pussy. Not talking to anyone. Bitchy. You know, lashing out at people. He’s not happy and listen—not to make it too personal since he barely knows you, but he’s been shit on by women a lot and I don’t think he needs to get shit on by you. So, you’re going to have to take one for the fucking team, alright? If you have any feelings for Noah, you’ll show up at the stadium tomorrow after practice and let him know he’s not alone.”
My heart constricts in my chest. Clenches.
“Miranda, you got this. Balls to the wall.”
My mouth curves up into a smile. “Are you pep talking me?”
“Do I need to pep talk you?”
“No.”
“Then no, I’m not trying to light a fire under your ass.” He hesitates. “So will you do it?”
I sigh, a resounding exhalation that’s loud enough to make him laugh again. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Cool. I’ll act surprised when I see you in the parking lot.”
This time, I do giggle at him. “I hope you’re a good actor.”
“The best. I’ve faked so many orgasms.”
“I have no idea how to respond to that.”
“I think you just did.”
What an idiot. “Hey Buzz?”
“What?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Hey Miranda?”
“What?”
“I know you don’t.”
Ugh, that bastard.
16
Noah
It’s been a day and a half since I’ve seen or heard from Miranda.
Okay, fine—I’ve heard from her; I just haven’t replied. I mean…I was just humiliated in front of the entire nation—why would I want to confront the one person whose opinion I care about with my tail between my legs?
She definitely hates me. I made sure of that by being too chickenshit to reply.
How could she not? I ghosted her out of fear and embarrassment, ruled by that boy inside me who doesn’t want to be laughed at by the girl he asked to the homecoming dance, the girl who only said yes because her friends dared her to.
Fear of rejection is a powerful deterrent and it courses through my veins like an undammed river, quicker now that my face is splashed all over the morning news, pimped out by strangers for the few hundred bucks they got for the lead. I hate admitting to my weaknesses, but there they are.
No one says anything to me in the locker room; each of my teammates has been in the headlines at some point for one reason or another, usually a huge signing bonus announcement or their contract being renewed. Obviously we get the occasional paternity claim. Cheating scandals. Public fights with spouses or the paparazzi. A few of my buddies date celebrities—actresses and other athletes and shit—and that’s in the news, too.