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“Babe?” she asks.
“Yeah. Night, babe,” I say pulling her back in for the last kiss for a few days.
With a smile on her face, she slides into the car, and I stand there like a complete idiot as the car drives her away.
I’m all yours. I wonder if she really meant it.
FOUR
SAWYER
I WAKE UP MONDAY MORNING, with my body sore and a smile on my face. It was an unexpected, yet wonderful weekend. I am surprised with the way that Gunnar and I connected. While the entire time, I knew I was hanging out with someone who was well above my social status, none of the celebrity part seemed to play any part on the moments we shared. Even though we didn’t leave the confines of his condo, we spent time naked and clothed as we talked, laughed and well… fucked.
I get to work and notice a small crowd gathering out front. I push my way through, all while hearing some of the people whispering, ‘that’s her’.
Just as I was about to open the doors to the building, my cell phone begins to make noises. Notifications and text messages were sounding from my purse as I continued into work. They continued all the way, until I sat down at my cubicle. I grab my phone and begin looking at all the notifications popping up on the screen.
I hit for the text messages and saw that I had several. I open the one from my best friend first.
Kim: Is it true?
Kim: OMG! There’s photos all over with you and the super hot Hornets catcher!
Kim: Why aren’t you replying? I know you’re up!
I close her messages and then open the ones from my mom.
Mom: Sawyer, you are on the news. Not the good news, the gossip news.
Mom: Call me ASAP
Mom: Are you ignoring me?
I close those and select the ones from my dad next. I groan, run my hand across my forehead.
Dad: Princess, we need to chat. Your mother is going nuts. She thinks you are ignoring her.
Dad: Pitchers are a lot better than catchers are. Btw.
Dad: Can you get me tickets?
What the hell is going on?
“Ms. Rotham? He would like to speak with you.” Mr. Lyons’ assistant says from the end of my desk. I nod, smooth my dress and follow her.
I tap on his doorway and he motions me to sit down. His assistant closes the door behind me. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he look up from the newspaper in front of him.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he starts slowly looking up.
“I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, sir,” I say quietly.
“You’ve made page six news.” He closes the newspaper and tosses it in front of me on his desk. I stand and open to page six and gasp.
The images take up two whole pages, pictures of Gunnar and myself with the title across both pages: Is the Player Being Played? Or is she?
There are photos cataloging the whole day from start to finish, obvious distance photos, and then some from the photographers that were around throughout the day. From breakfast with me smiling at him, to Gunnar behind me showing me how to properly swing at the batting cages, swimming at the pool, kissing in the pool, kissing against the Jeep after lunch, playing catch on the field before the game, to leaving the ballpark together after the game holding hands. Then there is a photo from Gunnar on the street waving to the cameraman with a bag and two coffees, with a caption hinting to an overnight guest and the final photo of a grainy montage is of Gunnar kissing me goodbye before I went home last night.
I look up from the page, my eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. I’m fearful for what my boss will say as soon as he opens his mouth. He has his hands folded sitting atop his desk, his jaw set tight and his eyes narrow at me. He clears his throat and opens his mouth.
