The joke about my natural state of anger fueled the tightening of tension in my muscles as I crouched in front of my former college roommate. He was two inches taller than me and just as wide.
His body held all the same carefully crafted muscles and knowledge of body mechanics for when you were trying to take out an opponent. He kept his fingers loose where they propped him up in the grass, and I did the same, no hint as to where we might move or which direction we might take.
He grinned behind his helmet, and I narrowed my eyes, letting the full blaze of power unroll through my arms and back and legs when I imagined knocking him over. Our teammates heckled and hollered; most cheered on Kareem, but a few voices were saying my name. Coach stood between us, silver whistle in his mouth, which would be our signal.
Movement from behind Kareem pulled my gaze away for a split second.
Molly. On the practice field.
Her blue eyes met mine and widened.
What was she doing out here?
The whistle blew, sharp and loud, but Kareem shoved forward a split second before I did. Because, of course, I hadn't fully been paying attention. That was enough for me to have to dig my cleats in and push against him, our shoulders wedged against each other as we fought for the dominant position.
A bright pulse of anger went unchecked that I hadn't flipped him over yet because of her, and that was enough for me to shove him over onto his back.
The guys cheered, some groaned, and Logan watched us with a slight smile on his face.
"Not bad, Griffin," he said.
I held out a hand, and Kareem took it. He slapped my back in a half-hug when he was back on his feet.
"Asshole," he said, but he was smiling.
"Pansy," I returned, which made him laugh.
The crowd dissipated as they started lining up for drills, and when I was about to do the same, the suits and the cameras—and Molly—approached Coach Ward and me.
He looked about as happy as I was at their presence. The one thing he wasn't was surprised. "Can I help you?"
The woman, statuesque and composed and entirely out of place on a practice field, looked me up and down slowly, like I was under a spotlight. I fought not to curl my lip up at her.
"Noah Griffin?" she asked, holding out her hand. I took it. "I'm Beatrice Kelly, Chief Marketing Officer for Washington."
"Pleasure to meet you," I said stiffly. It wasn't. I wanted to be practicing.
As Beatrice introduced herself to Logan, Molly clutched a black and red clipboard to her chest, face blank, and eyes trained on the bright green turf.
"If you don't mind, the crew will be here filming for the remainder of practice, and then I'd like to steal fifteen minutes with both you and Noah when you're done."
Logan glanced at me, then back at her. "And if I do mind?"
She smiled slowly, eyes about as warm as a block of ice. "Then you can take it up with Cameron after practice, and after we've met with Noah."
I saw Molly take a slow inhale, her cheeks taking on a soft pink color. Personally, I didn't want to meet with this woman after practice, but I'd been playing long enough to know that sometimes, you had to do shit you didn't want to do.
The look that Logan gave Beatrice would've made the biggest, scariest linebacker shrink back, but she was completely undaunted. Even I was glad I wasn't on the receiving end of it.
"I need fifteen minutes, Coach Ward," she repeated. "We can do it now, or we can do it after practice. I'll give you the choice."
He snorted.
I dropped my chin to my chest as he mulled over her offer.
"Griffin, should we get this done now?" he asked quietly.
Pushing my tongue into my cheek, I looked at all the faces in front of me, quick glances as I tried to figure out what the hell this had to do with me. I just wanted to play. Was that too much to ask?
The face that snagged my gaze for just a fraction longer than everyone else's was Molly's.
Today, she was in a black shirt and bright red jeans. She matched her boss, matched the field, and for some reason, it hammered home just how much more this place was hers than it was mine.
"Let's get this done now," I said.
Beatrice smiled again, just a touch of thawing to the cold from earlier. "Excellent. Logan? I assume you know where my office is."
His answer was a short nod.
"Great. We'll see you there in ten minutes."
They walked away, leaving Logan and me with our hands braced on our hips and annoyed expressions on our faces.
"What the hell is that about?" I mused.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Griffin, believe me when I say that I wish there was a way to avoid this."