“Will you answer the questions thoroughly?”

“Sure.” He smiled. “I’ll go as deep inside as you want me to.”

“Kyle…”

“I’ll answer them thoroughly.” He laughed. “Thanks for reconsidering.”

“I haven’t yet.”

“You will.” He winked at me before walking away, and I hated that I was attracted to him. That one glimpse of his smile was enough to make my panties wet.

Later that night

My phone pinged with an email once I stepped out of the shower.

Subject: My Answers.

Kyle.

I walked over to my fridge and poured myself a glass of wine before subjecting myself to what I assumed were all one-word answers and things he’d copied and pasted from other interviews.

Carrying the bottle over to my desk, I powered on my laptop and opened my inbox.

 

* * *

 

Court (I’m going to call you that because friends shorten each other’s names.)

* * *

 

I’m attaching each of my answers in a Word doc, but I’ll copy and paste the first one in the body of this email so you can see how I write.

* * *

 

(I write pretty fast, by the way.)

Question:

When you have tons of press vying for a few words from you in this sport, why do you insist on remaining silent?

* * *

 

My Answer:

* * *

 

For one, I like to let my performance on the field speak for itself.

* * *

 

For two, I don’t trust that many people in my life. People in my family have let me down, so I find it hard to place a level of trust in strangers. Journalists (no offense) are self-serving and only looking for sound-bites to advance their careers.

* * *

 

I clicked through the other documents, feeling my jaw drop to the ground as he elaborated on each question I gave for five pages each.

My phone buzzed with another text from him.

Kyle: We good?

Me: Yes …

Kyle: Nice to know. Tell me whenever you’re meeting up with director-dude so that I can help. Oh, and unblock me from FB now.

Me: Why? You have my phone number.

Kyle: I don’t have any of your pictures …Want to send me some?

 

 

I unblocked him and put him on mute for the rest of the night, reading through the rest of his answers like a voracious reader.

A very surprised reader …

Courtney: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

At four in the morning, I sent Kyle a brand new set of questions and poured Julia a freshwater bowl in the kitchen.

“Oh shit!”

A deep voice sounded from behind, forcing me to turn around.

“I didn’t know that your roommate was going to be here this weekend, JA!” Judy-April’s boyfriend, a much older guy I’d seen a few times, sat up on the living room couch.

Awkwardly smiling at me, he pulled a blanket over his lap—covering his bare crotch.

Judy-April stepped into the room and shrugged. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a roommate.”

He looked between us. “She’s standing right there.”

“I don’t see anyone.” She stared right at me. “My roommate died weeks ago. It was quite tragic.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my backpack. I filled a canteen with hot coffee, double-checked to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything, and stepped outside.

“I knew you were the ‘get up early’ type.” Kyle was leaning against a truck, smiling. “Here I was, seconds away from emailing you instead of knocking.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“That’s not important.” He smiled, handing me a protein bar. “What’s important is that we can kill two birds with one stone within the next two hours.”

“I’m on my way to the news office, so I’m sure your plan can wait.”

“No, you’re on your way to the gym with me so I can show you how hard I work behind the scenes when no one is watching. That’ll save you the two hours you were going to spend watching YouTube clips of my private practices.”

How did you know I was about to do that?

“I saw you getting tagged in some late-night party photos like an hour ago,” I said, stunned that he was still awake.

“I just dropped by to show my face and keep my rumored reputation intact.” He smiled. “You stalk my Facebook page at night, too?”

“It’s for my research, Kyle. Only one of us is required to stalk the other person.”

“Sure, you are.” He walked over to the passenger side and held the door open. “Okay, be honest. You really don’t remember me offering you a real ride during our freshman year?”

“No, but that’s because it didn’t happen.” I hesitated to get inside. “I can take the campus shuttle, you know? It’s probably best for me to keep a distance while I’m working, and maybe whenever we’re going out for my list you can—”

He picked me up by my waist mid-sentence, placing me onto the heated leather seat. He leaned over me and buckled my seatbelt before shutting the door.

When he returned to his side, he looked over at me as he cranked the engine. “Friends don’t let friends take the bus if one of the friends in question has a car.”

“I’ll have to take it eventually when I go to class.”

“Not if you don’t want to.” He shrugged. “I never go to class, so feel free to call and I’ll pick you up. Or you can drive it if I’m in practice.”

I made a mental note to never ask him for that, and then I stared out the window. “I really hope you’re not over there coming up with an ulterior motive for the next several weeks with me, Kyle.”

“I’m not.” I felt him staring at me. “I think my motive has been pretty clear from the start …”

Kyle: Now

Present Day

New York City

“Is that Kyle Stanton from the New England Falcons?” “Why is he on this plane?” “You think he’ll give me his autograph?”

I ignored the hushed whispers behind me as I sat on a first-class flight to New York City. I didn’t want to take a commercial flight, but since Taylor was still refusing to charter a private one for me, I had no choice.

I needed to talk to Grayson ASAP, needed him to tell me that I wasn’t in the middle of losing my fucking mind.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Courtney, couldn’t stop replaying the frame of her agreeing to marry a man who wasn’t me.

The look in her eyes when he got down on one knee spoke volumes. It was part surprise, part fear, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it wasn’t love.