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“Are we done, boss?” Frankie asks. To his credit, he doesn’t even smirk.
“Yes. We have enough content for today.” And lucky me, now I get to head back to my office and watch all the footage Frankie shot. I can’t wait to see how pathetic I looked.
It’s a quick ride back from the practice field to the Silverbacks’ stadium and then I head directly to my office. It takes me longer than I planned to edit the practice footage Frankie shot, mostly because I’m picky and want to get it exactly how I’d like. But the number of views I dedicated to the interaction between Rogan and me could also be to blame.
Dammit, he’s so fucking gorgeous.It’s a wonder I was able to remember my name, never mind fire back sensical replies.
I’m actually proud of myself for how well I held my own. As an introvert, I have a history of naturally being shy, but it’s even worse when I’m around the opposite sex.
When I was with Brett, I’d clam up and let him do most of the talking. In hindsight, I realize I never got to the point where I was comfortable speaking my mind with him. And he certainly didn’t encourage me to. Like most narcissists, he made everything about him—good or bad—which didn’t leave much room for me to express my opinion. And God forbid I disagreed with him—you’d think the world was ending.
Opening my docs, I choose the one that’s titled “posts” and type up what I want to say. This reel is on the longer side, so I keep my words brief but try to make them interesting enough that the followers will not only watch the video but also engage in the comments. I upload the reel and add a song that matches the fast pace of the footage. Then I copy and paste the short paragraph from my doc to the actual post. Reading through one final time, I proofread for spelling or grammatical errors and make sure I’m happy with my word choice.
Are you as excited as we are that Silverbacks football games will be coming soon? In the meantime, do you wish you could be a fly on the wall at their camp? Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. Here’s a taste of what you missed from today’s practice…
As soon as I share the post, people immediately begin commenting on it.
Rogan’s on fire.
Is the backup about to overtake the starter?
Come on, football season. Let’s go.
I’m ready for the games to start.
Team Rogan.
Team who cares? We just need to fucking win.
Might be time to hand the reins to Rogan.
Brett’s not looking so great.
What’s wrong with Brett?
Brett, we need you!
Rogan, I want you!
Coach Chubbs needs to make a change, quick.
Are the coaches watching the same thing we are?
Get off your asses and put the backup in.
I reply to some of the comments before I log out. I already know Brett is going to lose his shit when he sees what some fans are saying. But I’m not going to let him put this on me. He’s the one who’s been practicing poorly, and I’m just doing my job.
I’ve only been home long enoughto heat up the leftovers from last night when there’s a knock on my door. Sighing, I send a longing glance at the steaming chicken, potatoes, and greenbeans on my plate before I walk away. Glancing through the peephole, I see Brett standing there.
Oh, fuck me.
I’m not ready to deal with him, and I definitely didn’t expect an in-person visit.
I open the door. “Brett. This is a surprise.”
“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.
I move back and he steps inside. I let out an internal groan as I shut the door. Would it be rude to bang my head against the wood?
