Page 8 of The Air I Breathe
His voice is muffled, even though I know what he's yelling. I have a hard time hearing through my helmet and everything else that’s going on in the stadium around us, but that's the best thing about being a professional. It's the good thing about us going through our plays all the time and having walk-throughs. We know, no matter what, where we're supposed to be and what our jobs are on the field.
I head down toward the end zone, brush past a defender, and hold my arm up. Russell sees me, pumps once, and then throws a perfect spiral in my direction. The leather thuds in my hands against my gloves.
"Gonna get you, Blake." A member of the D-line taunts me. I recognize the player's face, but can't remember his name.
"Fuck you," I yell, going for the left, then pivoting to the right and running completely past him. I break one defender, then another, kicking it into high gear as I head toward the end zone. I get there, holding my arms out in celebration. Quickly I see a camera, and knowing we're on national television, I make a heart with my hands, and then double-tap my chest. If nothing else, maybe Willa will see it.
"You sly bastard." Russell smacks me on top of my helmet when he comes over to congratulate me. "You know Willa does that."
"Sure do, and I'm hoping she saw that tonight."
And when I get back to locker room after our twenty-one point win, there's a message from her. It's a picture. She's doing the same gesture with a bright smile on those red lips of hers.
Chapter Six
Willa
For the first time on my tour, I wish I spoke before a show. Since this set is three and a half hours long, I have to save my voice as much as I can. I've been texting with Blake all day, and he’s asked to see me.
W: I'm sorry—I limit my talking on show days. I have to sing for three and a half hours, and I can't waste my voice. I don't even do meet-and-greets, or radio spots, which everyone told me would be the kiss of death.
B: While I understand the thought process behind it, it still sucks.
I push my eyes skyward, heaving a sigh.
W: It does. Most of the tour I've been glad about not having to talk to people or do radio, but I wish today I could chat.
B: Why is that?
W: So I could talk to you, but I have rules, and I've always been one to follow them. Actually they're doctor's orders—otherwise I won't be able to continue with the tour. LOL!
W: I saw your game yesterday.
B: I figured when I saw the picture you sent me after it.
W: What time did y'all get back to Nashville last night?
B: Dunno. Russ and I stayed back here. We're gonna go to your show tonight.
W: OMG? Are you? Where are you sitting?
B: I don't know yet, but we're gonna figure it out. Tampa might be able to give us one of their suites.
W: Or you could sit in my friends and family area.
B: Aren't you worried about speculation?
Typically I would be, but this feeling in the pit of my stomach? It's one I don't ever want to get rid of.
W: I lived my life in private for the past seven years, Blake. I'm ready to really live. Private has its advantages, but I don't want people speculating—I want them to know. I want them to not be wondering. I'd rather them be celebrating.
B: Why does it sound kind of like this is a PR move?
My stomach aches as he asks the question. That wasn't what I was going for when I asked to meet him, or what I thought when we even started this conversation, but the more I think about it, the more I realize he can help me—and I can probably help him, too.
W: I wouldn't say it’s a PR move, but I can't deny that I want to improve how people react to me. I want them to know I'm not scared to show my face in public. That what happened to me before didn't break me. You're the type of guy who doesn't get too involved with things. You wear your heart on your sleeve, but I don't necessarily think you're going to fall in love with me.
God, that sounds vapid and so bitchy, but the more I've thought about it, the more I think it will work. I think with this tour, and then with a new boyfriend, others will forget about my imploded past relationship.