find the entire administration staff staring at me. Walking as quickly as I can, I give them a small smile and head back to my classroom. Opening the door, I step inside and close it as quickly as I can before the first of my tears run down my face.
Bending, I take out one of the newspapers and stare at the picture. Colt is practically naked, and we are pressed together in a passionate-looking kiss.
For some reason, this stops my tears.
It was one night.
It was a wonderful night, and now I’m back to being me—a good kindergarten teacher.
Folding the newspaper, I place this one copy in my handbag, wipe my eyes, and get ready for my class to begin.
COLT
Boy, did I cop a ribbing after the picture of Skye and me hit the stands on Saturday. Tom, my agent, managed to convince the newspaper to keep Skye’s name out of the article. The guys enjoyed seeing me half-naked plastered across every newspaper from here to Timbuktu. We won the game on Sunday, so now the newspapers are full of speculation that we are in for a real chance at the Super Bowl. There’s only a handful of games left to be played.
News is fickle, and my little indiscretion is now forgotten.
Skye, however, is not.
I’ve been dreaming about her since Friday night. I even googled her. Turns out, there is a Skye Hadley who works at one of the schools downtown. I checked it out, and now I’m sitting here watching her walk onto the school grounds.
I’ve sent her flowers, chocolates, knocked on her door, but it’s all to no avail. The woman wants nothing to do with me.
The NFL likes us to have a good-guy image for the press, and upon further investigation, her school has a Big Brother Program for some of the kids, so I signed up. This will grant me a good reputation with my team and management, and, more importantly, it will get me closer to Skye. The program’s built around kids who don’t have a positive male role model in their lives.
Walking into the school, I stop along the way signing autographs for the kids and some of the adults as I make my way toward the office. Why is it all schools smell the same? A mixture of chemicals, sweat, and fear. Walking through the door, sitting behind the desk is a petite older woman who’s fussing with her hair. I notice her name tag reads ‘Marion.’
“Hello, sugar, I’m Colt Anders. I’m here for the Big Brother Program.”I give her my best smile.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Anders, so nice to meet you.”
I extend my hand. “Please, call me Colt.”
Marion stands, visibly excited as she shakes my hand. “Oh, to think I’m touching the best player in the league.”
“Marion… may I call you Marion?” She nods frantically. “I’m nothing without my team.” It’s the standard line I give out. The public doesn’t like it if you are too proud or arrogant. I learned it the hard way in the early days that I have to be humble.
“Oh, Colt,” Marion giggles nervously, still hanging onto my hand.
“So, where is my little brother?” I ask and wink at her.
Marion points behind me, and I see a young boy, maybe ten, standing there staring at me. “This is Blaise Geyser.”
Turning around, I hold out my hand. “Hey, Blaise, I’m Colt.”
“Hey, Colt, how’s it hanging?”
I like him, he’s got spunk. “Good, man, good. So, you ready to come meet the New England Warriors?”
Blaise’s face lights up, and he nods. “Hells, yes!”
“Blaise Geyser… you remember your manners around Mr. Anders,” berates Marion.
“Yes, Miss Brown,” replies Blaise, his eyes on the floor.
Marion smiles wide at me, and I grin back at her.
“Okay, Blaise, let’s get this show on the road.” I place a hand on the middle of his back and guide him out into the hall.
“You didn’t say anything wrong, buddy. So, you like football?”
“Hells, yes! I want to be just like you and earn a million-dollar contract.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, the money is good, bud, but you have to have a love for the game or it’s work. If it’s work, it’s not fun, and no matter what you do, when you get older, you have to love what you do.”
“Colt?”
I look up and see a surprised Skye staring at me in disbelief.
“Skye… wow! What a small world. What are you doing here?” Even to my ears it sounds fake and somewhat rehearsed.
“I work here.”
“Really? Wow! I’m here as part of