the year, you were ranked the fifth-best player in the FBS, but now, everyone is saying it’s pretty clear you’re the best player in the league. Maybe the best in your generation. You’ve always been good, but this year, you seem to be on fire. What do you credit your incredible success to over the years, and what has changed this year in particular?”
Justin. I play my heart and soul out for him. “You know, I just always worked hard. Football is a job like any other, and I put in the work.”
“And this year? What’s put you over the top?”
I fell in love. He flushed. “Just hard work, ma’am. Putting in those hours at practice. Always staying focused on that end goal and keeping your eyes on what you want most.” College. Graduation. Justin. A life together.
“In two weeks, you play the only other undefeated team in the league. Any nerves heading into your Thanksgiving showdown? Anything you’re specifically focused on as you prepare for this game?”
“I’m going to sound like a broken record, but it’s the same hard work, ma’am. Show up, every day, for practice. Give it your all. Give everything you have to your team. That’s what got us here, and that’s what will get us the win in two weeks.”
“What makes this team so special?”
“How tight we are together. We’re more than a team. We’re brothers. I know everyone says that, but it’s different here. We’re connected, off the field and on, and that connection and love we all have for each other makes us unstoppable. I’d do anything for them”—his voice choked off—“and I like to think they’d do the same for me.”
There were noises in the background, grunts and Hell yeahs from his teammates.
But was it true?
“You said you were keeping your eyes on what you want most. The NFL, I’m assuming. A professional career. Seems almost guaranteed for you at this point. Are the rumors about you possibly tossing your name into the NFL draft at the end of this season true?”
“Nothing is guaranteed in this life. And those are just rumors. I haven’t thought about the NFL draft at all this year. I’m focused on this team. These guys are my priority.”
“You seem to have it all. A promising start to a stellar career, the skills and drive to go as far as you want in the sport, fans who love and adore you. What about a girlfriend? Any special lady in your life?”
He ducked his head and pressed his lips together, trying to force a smile. “That’s a little personal, ma’am.”
“So you don’t kiss and tell?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You’re a good guy, Wes.” She reached for him, squeezing his biceps, then turned to the camera to end her segment. Once the camera was off, she turned back to Wes. “I’d love to buy you dinner tonight. I could tell you all about the NFL and line up some conversations with coaches I know. Just a few friendly chats between them and you about the league.”
The locker room went silent, the bustle and hum of conversations dropping to a hush as everyone pretended to be busy with their locker junk. Folding shirts they’d never folded in their lives, or wiping nonexistent stains off their helmets. Behind the reporter’s back, Colton stood with his eyes as wide as dinner plates, white running all the way around his irises. He nodded, comically huge, and gave Wes two big thumbs up.
“Thank you for the offer, ma’am,” Wes said, stepping back. “But I’m sorry, I’ve got plans tonight.”
He saw the shock in Colton’s face, in Orlando’s, in all the guys’ stunned looks and dropped jaws. No one turned down a beautiful woman like that. And no one who wanted to play in the NFL turned down the opportunity to meet and greet with the league heavies.
“Well, congratulations on your win today, Mr. Van de Hoek.” She held out her hand and he shook it. She gathered her bag and walked out of the locker room, not looking back.
He was swarmed in under a second, Colton and the rest of the guys shoving him left and right, asking him what the hell was he thinking. What the hell did he have to do that night that was so much more important than networking with her? “Dude, I know you got your girl, but man—” Colton said.
“You got a girl?” Orlando jumped in. “Whoa whoa whoa! When did you get yourself a girl?”