Blind Side(6)

I cracked my neck when he was gone, catching the inquisitive gaze of our quarterback and team captain, Holden Moore, as I settled back in place on the squat press machine.

“You good?” he asked, racking the weights he’d been using like he wasn’t all that interested in the answer. I knew better, though. Holden was a born leader, one of the few players on this team I actually looked up to. He was checking in not because he was nosy, but because he gave a damn.

“Good,” was my only answer, and then I was back in position, kicking into the platform until my legs were straight. I released the latch on the weight, squatting my knees toward my chest on an inhale, and grunting as I extended to push the weight back up.

After another ten-rep set, I locked the weight once more, sitting up and wiping my forehead with a towel.

Just as a petite pair of saddle tan flats came to a stop between my Nikes.

My feet dwarfed those little shoes, at least twice the length and width, and I arched a brow as my gaze climbed up the legs they were attached to. Those legs were covered in black mesh tights, see-through but for the areas where the fabric was thicker, creating a polka-dot pattern. The corner of my mouth curled in amusement when those tights ended at the hem of a black skirt with a cat nose and whiskers stitched into the front.

I knew then that it was Giana Jones.

She was always dressed like a quirky librarian, like a mix between a nun and a naughty schoolgirl. For some reason, I’d always found it irresistibly adorable, how she mixed and matched modesty with a covert kind of sex appeal. I wasn’t sure she even realized she did it, that she could catch more stares from wearing a turtleneck than some girls could in a bikini.

She folded her arms across her chest as I took my time bringing my gaze the rest of the way up, noting her pale pink sweater and the collared white shirt she wore beneath it. One finger pressed her oversized glasses up the bridge of her nose when I finally met her gaze, and I smirked even more at the curl that popped out of place where she’d piled her thick hair on top of her head in a braided bun.

“G,” I mused, sitting back a little on the bench so I could appreciate the view more. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Giana,” she corrected, though her voice was soft as she did, almost so much so that I didn’t hear her at all.

My eyes flicked down to the cat whiskers spreading the length of her hip bones. “Cute skirt.”

She rolled her eyes. “Glad to see you’re in a better mood today.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Holden piped in from his bench. “He had Robbins in a death grip two minutes before you walked in here.”

Giana gave Holden a questioning glance before shaking her head and focusing on me again. “We need to talk.”

“I’m all ears, Kitten.”

Her cheeks flushed as pink as her sweater before she glared at me. It was as if that nickname snapped a new persona into place. I watched as she went from sort of cowering and shy to standing taller, shoulders back and chin up.

“After the stunt you pulled yesterday, my ass is in hot water, and we need to discuss media protocol and on-camera etiquette.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes as I got back into position for another rep of squats.

“I did my time over the summer,” I said, and then I pushed the weight up, beasting out my next ten reps with her still standing beside me. When I racked up the weight again, sitting up, she hit me with a patronizing smile.

“Well, clearly, you didn’t comprehend any of it.”

“I comprehended just fine.”

“After yesterday, I beg to differ.”

I shrugged. “So, I suck at being on camera. Just don’t put me on. Simple as that.”

“No, not simple. You’re a star defensive player with a lot of media requests. And you don’t suck on camera. You were like a fish in water any time I had you interviewed last season.”

“Times change, Kitten.”

She gritted her teeth. “Stop calling me that.”

A teammate somewhere behind me let out a soft meow that made another bubble of laughter burst through the weight room, and I fought to hold back my own.

Giana sucked in a hot breath through her nose before pointing a finger at my chest. “You have a mandatory PR meeting with me tonight after team meetings. The coffee bar by the student union. Eight PM sharp. If you’re late, you’ll have Coach Sanders to answer to — understood?”

Appreciation simmered in my chest at the sight of her standing her ground, at how she raised her voice just a notch and tipped her chin at me while she waited for my response.

“Yes, ma’am,” I purred, and I couldn’t help it.

I glanced at her skirt again.

To her credit, she ignored me if she noticed at all, turning on her heel and sashaying a few steps before she was almost hit by Hernandez doing a tricep strap workout. She dodged his fists just in time, nearly stumbling into a leg extension machine before she did a little spin and avoided that, too.

I watched her pinball the entire way out of the weight room, and didn’t realize how much I liked the distraction of her until she was gone.

And the only thing left to think about was Maliyah.





Clay



“You’re just going to love him, Clay,” Mom said through the phone, the sound of dishes clattering in the background telling me she was working on dinner.