Intercepted (Page 39)

“What do you want me to do about it now? I can’t help that everyone carries phones and all phones have cameras. It’s not my fault all of America is always connected to social media.” In the time I have known Gavin, I’ve seen him lose his temper approximately three times. When I left Chris, at the fashion show, and now. I can hear the volume of Madison, but I can’t make out the words. “What do you suggest I do, Madison? Should I stay at home all the time? Should I not go out with my girlfriend? Should I only do football ever?”

She says something else and I swear, Gavin’s phone almost snaps in half.

“You really want to go there, Madison? Maybe if your lowlife boyfriend could catch the passes I throw him, we wouldn’t be on the bubble for the playoffs. I’m having the best season of my career, I think it’s safe to say she isn’t a distraction.”

Of course she went there.

I know they’re friends, and I’m sure she can be sweet. But she’s a horrid bitch, and I hate her.

#BadBlood

“I wasn’t out smoking crack. I took my girlfriend ice skating. I don’t know why you’re trying to get me so worked up about this. It’s your job to handle it, Madison, not mine. Marlee’s here and I’m not spending my night talking to you about this. Figure it out and call me in the morning.”

I still hear her Chihuahua voice barking through the earpiece when Gavin hangs up on her and throws his phone across the bed.

“You know I hate to admit this more than I did about you being a better skater, but Madison is kind of right.”

“What are you talking about?” He takes the mugs out of my hands, places them on the side table, then pulls me onto his lap. “I’m having the best season of my career. Donny called me yesterday telling me the Mustangs are already talking numbers to bring me back next year. He thinks you’re my good luck charm and told me if I do anything to mess up our relationship, he’ll fly here to kick my ass. And that’s saying something because Donny hates everyone.”

“Maybe before this, but I can tell you’re hurting and it’s my fault for dragging you out there.”

“No. I signed the disclaimer relieving you from all responsibility of injury.” He tilts my chin up and touches his lips to mine. “I’m fine. I wanted to go with you, and I had a great time. Now we’re going to stop thinking about it. You’re going to strip out of all of those clothes and lay next to me while we drink our hot chocolate. Then we’re going to take turns warming each other up until we fall asleep, as promised.”

I mean . . .

“Okay.”

It was a fantastic plan, except after we stripped out of our clothes, the hot chocolate was cold chocolate before we got to it.

Twenty-seven

There’s serious truth behind the saying “Ignorance is bliss.” I know this firsthand now.

You’d think, after all of these years dating an athlete and the surprise of Gavin coming to the Mustangs, I’d give in and just download the free ESPN app for my phone. But . . . I don’t.

Even though Gavin and I try to spend as much time together as we can, it’s still not much. So when we’re together, we try not to talk about work. It’s lovely. I spend all my free time with a man who, if you ask Mustangs fans, is listed right under Jesus. He could be with anyone and he chose me. I’ve gotten to know him so well over the last few months and every little tidbit makes me feel like I’m unwrapping a gift.

After #IceSkateGate we don’t talk much about the fall. I know his ankle is bothering him a bit. I get him ice and he uses my lap to elevate it, but other than that, he seems fine. He mentions very briefly he’s on the questionable list for the next game, but I’ve been around for a while and most of the time, questionable gets a thumbs-up. Especially when it’s the starting quarterback.

When Naomi calls to come over and watch the game with me, I notice the tightness in her voice right away. I figure it’s because Dre is still on the inactive list, and even though he can’t play, they’re still making him stand on the sidelines and travel with the team. But no matter how many times I ask what’s wrong, she won’t give me a straight answer. Until she gets fed up with me asking and says, “Maybe you should call Gavin.”

Ominous.

We hang up and I go to call him, but before I do, I notice an unread text cluttering my clean phone screen. As soon as I open it, I wish I hadn’t. I know what Naomi was worried about, and I know Madison has just received the ammunition to hate me for eternity.

Hey babe. I didn’t get cleared for the game. I’ll call you when it’s over.

Oh. No.

Then I do the thing you should never, ever do.

I Google him.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the internet. It’s the only reason I ever have recipes to make, I don’t get lost, and how I can kick Gavin’s ass in Jeopardy! all the time. But the internet is also where faceless assholes cloaked in anonymity get the confidence to say the vile things they would never say in person. They’re everywhere—Facebook, Twitter, Instagram—but the truly terrible ones always seem to gather in one place: the comments section.

You know how girls have a bad rep for being catty and gossipy and mean? Well, I’d be willing to bet money men are a thousand times worse on any given Sunday.

I know this because ta-da! Meet their new target.

Me.

Now, to be fair to these giant asshole men picking on a woman they don’t know and saying things that, in my opinion, should get them arrested, Madison’s the one who threw me under the bus. Apparently when Gavin said handle it, she heard, “Here’s your chance to slander and passively attack my girlfriend. Have fun!”

And boy, did she run with it.

Not only is my name listed in every single article, so is the fact that I’m the ex-girlfriend of Chris Alexander. Reading article after article, even I think I might be a gold-digging groupie who did nothing short of drugging, kidnapping, and then depositing Gavin’s unwilling body on the ice. Plus, thanks to all my friends at the rink that day, there is a crystal clear image to go with the multiple accounts of our trip.

One article not so cleverly titled “Pope’s Costly Sin” is basically an entire article simultaneously telling men they’re the rulers of the universe and they’re too weak to stand up to the wicked, tempting women in the world. The sexism shows no limits.

By the time Naomi shows up at my place, I’m on the brink of hysteria. Laughing, maybe crying, no . . . definitely laughing at the absurdity of the situation. My boyfriend took me ice skating and fell. That’s it. But to some of these people, you’d think I committed murder.

The hell with politics. Screw religion. I had united men and women, white and black, all on the common ground of hating me. I don’t know if it’s an accomplishment or a reason to seek out witness protection.

“Are you okay?” Naomi asks as soon as I open the door.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I, Mrs. Harris, am public enemy numero uno.” I wave my index finger in front of her face.

“I know. The chatter started on Wednesday when he sat out of practice, but they kind of hinted Kevin would be starting today instead of Gavin, and people lost their damn minds. I know Gavin ignores this stuff as much as you, but with Dre being out, he’s treating ESPN like a soap opera and reporting every last detail to me. I’m blaming it on the brain injury, but he’s driving me nuts.” And being the best friend I could ever ask for, she punctuates this very unfortunate news with two bottles of wine pulled from her giant purse. “These are for both of us, don’t try and hog it.”