Page 3 of Your Rule to Break
“Your better half around?” I ask about Willow. As much as I love Tripp, I see him at practice all the time. Willow is too busy changing the music world—whether it’s a record-breaking tour, starting her own label, or being the surprise Super Bowl halftime performer.
Tripp points over to a table, a smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. “She’s with Emilie.” Smitten bastard. How Tripp went from neverdating to falling in love with Willow blows my mind. But it feels perfectly right at the same time.
“Do you need help with anything?” I ask Tripp, even though the event seems to be just fine.
“Nope.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “Emilie took care of pretty much everything and left detailed notes for anything else. She’s so good at this.”
I figured he’d say that. That’s the version of Emilie I've seen—meticulous and prepared. It's not that we spend time together alone, but we usually find ourselves hanging out in a group. When it comes to hang outs and events, the four of us tend to end up together.
I glance over at the table and see the two of them sipping champagne. Emilie’s hair is sleek and pulled back, showing the curve of her neck. Her dress, with tiny black satin straps on her shoulders, plummets to an open back—her creamy skin on display.
My legs ache as I walk toward the table, evidence of the football season that’s about to start. Training camp has been kicking my ass since it began a week ago. Typically, it’s not such a jolt to the system but I was a bit more relaxed this off-season.
Did I throw the winning touchdown pass in last season’s Super Bowl? Yes. Was it one of the best trick plays ever executed? Yes. Did I let it go to my head? Also yes. It’s not a contract year for me and most of the Upstate Cosmos have remained intact—there’s no harm in letting loose and having some fun.
I didn’t know what it meant to be drafted to an expansion team—literally a new one created from a pool of current NFL players. Teams like this don’t usually see success in their early seasons but we fucking set the bar. The Upstate Cosmos: one year in the league and one Super Bowl earned.
Being a long snapper has its perks, like not getting violently tackled during most of the game, but it also means I’m on the sideline for most of the moments. The ones you watch back and remember every millisecond of the play. My bones will never forget the trick play—it’s ingrained in me at a cellular level. And my dick.
The amount of women I’ve spent time with this off-season is staggering, even for me. I don’t typically have relationships but do enjoy a month-long situationship. Now, take month and swap it for three days and you’ll have my off-season in a nutshell.
As I walk toward the table, Emilie stands and my breath catches in my throat. My eyes dance from the nape of her neck, all the way down her spine, to her lower back.
Fuck. She’s gorgeous. Nothing new.
She sees me and her face lights up, like the twinkly lights she loves to see on a rooftop bar.
“Zack!” Her voice is packed with what feels like enthusiasm. “Why are you walking like that?” She stops and looks me up and down, her brows furrowed. I pull her in for a hug, lightly pressing my lips on her cheek.
“There’s no way you’re this sore from training camp?!” She grabs my elbow and looks back, her hazel eyes greener than normal tonight as they catch mine. Emilie always has a knack for answering her own questions.
“You did good,” I praise, looking around the room at the packed event. Pink creeps into her cheeks, scrunched with a smile.
“You think?” She rubs her hands on the front of her dress, looking around the room.
I lightly shake her elbows bringing her attention back to me. “I know.” She smirks at me, and her look could bring light to the grayest day.
She looks for the date she’ll never find. “Who did you bring?”
“Well, about that…”
Chapter 3
Emilie
I can’t help butlaugh at the bit of chocolate frosting on the corner of Zack’s lip. He’s going on and on about his latest restaurant adventures. The man thrives on finding new places to eat and telling me about each mouth-watering detail. As a fellow foodie, I don’t mind. Since he ended up dateless, he sat at the empty spot at our table.
I had no intention of bringing a date, since I helped plan the event. Plus, it’s not like I had anyone to ask. The dating pool is a cruel hurricane, and I’m sick of being sucked in. I recently deleted my dating apps and have been trying to focus on myself; or at least not focus on John or Jack or Peter, who work in finance and all lie about being over six foot tall.
“You have a little…” I touch the side of my lip. Zack then uses his tongue to catch the rogue frosting and heat rushes to my cheeks. His eyes find mine and my flushed cheeks, and I know he’s about to say something dangerous.
Ting! Ting!The clinking of a glass breaks through the room. Tripp stands on the stage, microphone in hand.
“Before we open the dance floor, I just want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This event is more than what I ever dreamed of, and I couldn’t have done it without all of you.When We Playcould reach so many kids and families,” Tripp’s voice cracks, and he wipes the corner of his eye. Aww’s fill the room. “Before I turn into a blubbering mess, I want to thank some special people. First, my mom, Wendy. Without her, there is no Tripp Owens, wide receiver for the Upstate Cosmos.”
Polite claps fill the room as Wendy gives a small wave from her table near the stage.
“Next, Willow, the love of my life, for showing me what true love and support looks like.” I look over to see Willow, eyes glistening with her own tears. For some couples, this whole thing would be insufferable and over the top—not for Willow and Tripp. Their love is the kind you dream of, bright and honest.