Page 20 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Margot

I, Margot Mahoney, am dating a professional football player.

“I am dating someone.”

Wow.

Sounds so weird to say.

Granted, we haven’t been on any dates yet since Dex made his little pronouncement, but we’ve been texting a lot. Although last night, he invited me along with him for a signing event. I didn’t have plans today, so I agreed.

A signing event.

I’m not sure what that is, but I’m assuming we’re going to go somewhere people can meet Dex in person and get stuff signed?

My friend Cora, a teacher who works with me at the elementary school, is meeting me for lunch today in the teachers’ lounge.

Our little gatherings are a highlight of my day when we can coordinate them.

She teaches fifth grade to my first, and we started at Scottsdale’s private Sage Brush Elementary at the same time, becoming fast friends.

And since we never have enough time to gossip in between class, when I mention I’m seeing someone, she literally spits out some of her tuna sandwich—which is disgusting all by itself, let alone the fact that some of it is sitting in small chunks on the table.

Gross.

“Dating someone? Say that one more time without smiling.”

“I ... am dating. A guy.”

“You cannot drop the words casually like that when I ask, ‘So what’s new with you?’” Cora’s sandwich falls to the table. “I do not have time for you to play games with my anxiety levels.”

“I’m not!” I swear.

“So spill! Details, girl! Who is it?”

I play coy. “Someone I met on the Kissmet app.”

“Wait. Why am I only hearing about this now?” She takes a bite of sandwich and chews. “What else are you holding out on me?”

“Nothing.” Some things. “I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to flake on me.”

She groans. “Don’t be the friend that starts ghosting because she met someone.”

“I haven’t been ghosting you! It’s just ... been a whirlwind.” Total understatement.

Cora’s sandwich is suspended halfway to her mouth. It sags in her hand as she studies me. “Why has dating some guy been a whirlwind?”

Let’s see: How do I put this?

“I met him on a dating app, but he’s ... kind of well known?” I give her a toothy Cheshire cat grin she cannot quite decipher.

“Well known? How?”

I explain how it went down when I first matched with Dex—how I thought he was a catfish; he had used all those professional football photos, nothing in his bio felt personal.

I assumed it was fake.

“I swiped on his profile so I could call him a liar and accuse him of being a catfish.”

“And . . . ?”

“He’s not. He’s the real deal.”

Cora leans forward and glances around the break room, lowering her voice to make sure no one else is listening. “Shut the fuck up. Are you serious?” She almost never curses.

“Yeah.” I’m trying my best to sound chill, as if I deliver this sort of news all the time. Fake it till you make it and all that ...

“ Who is it? ”

“His name is Dex.”

“Dex, Dex ...” She sets down her sandwich and wipes the crumbs from her palms. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

I don’t know if she’s a football fan, but I know her boyfriend is. I’ve listened to countless hours of her complaining about him ignoring her while he watches the games, so it’s not impossible that she would recognize the name.

“Um. He’s very popular—or so he says.”

“Oh my God, Margot. How are you sitting here casually teaching first grade like there isn’t some big hunky football guy falling at your feet?” She smacks the tabletop. “This is like every girl’s dream!”

“Surely not every girl’s dream.”

Eh. It’s certainly not mine.

The reality is, I have no desire to be surrounded by chaos and Goliath men, or women who chase those men. Not to mention Dex has flip-flopped about his feelings more than once. We haven’t committed to each other yet, but we are giving it a chance.

“The selfish part of me was curious to know what dating someone like that is like.” Not that I want to compare it to a science experiment, because that makes me sound like a selfish jerk. “He really is larger than life.”

Large, as in huge.

I’m picking at the slices of the apple I’m not craving, mulling over the idea of Dex while my friend drones on and on. Eventually she notices I’m not paying attention and gives the tabletop a few raps of her knuckles, the way we do with our classes to get their attention.

“You are so lucky.” She sighs. “I bet he’s so romantic. I thought Mark was so exciting when we started dating.” Another sigh. “Now he farts in front of me and scratches his nuts, and all the mystery is gone.”

Ew.

I don’t love that for her.

“You’re right—he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.” Or dated. Or been in a relationship with.

Shit. He’s not even like anyone I’ve been in the same room with!

He’s the total opposite of Colton, who by comparison is conservative, buttoned up, and opinionated. A real turd.

Not that Dex isn’t opinionated ... if he weren’t, he may have been more open minded to dating a single mom when we first matched.

Still, here we are.

Cora and I continue eating (only ten minutes left of recess!), chatting about students, which parents have emailed or called to complain, and upcoming lesson plans. But every few minutes Cora brings the conversation back to Dex.

“Are you going to tell me his last name, or do I have to drag it out of you?” My friend has her phone out.

“Why?”

“So I can stalk him.”

I snort. “At least you’re honest.”

“Listen,” she deadpans. “Mark will be on one end of the couch watching some stupid comic book movie when I get home—then I’ll plop down on the other end and play on my phone. At least give me something to google while we’re ignoring each other tonight. Some eye candy.”

My brows raise. “How do you know he’s eye candy?”

“He plays football, obviously he’s eye candy.”

I titter. “His last name is Lansing. But can you do me a huge favor and not turn this into a full-blown investigation? Don’t go liking and double tapping all his stuff.

If he notices and pokes back on you, he’s going to see me on your profile page, and then what am I going to tell him? My friends are creeps?”

Cora isn’t convinced. “Who cares? He’s a guy. They don’t give a shit about things like that, and besides, I bet he pays someone to do his social media.”

That sounds likely.

He mentioned a chef, so I’m sure he has a cleaning lady—all the things I would kill for if I had the money.

Le sigh.

Must be nice.

“What’s this date you have tonight?”

“I have no idea,” I admit, stealing one of her potato chips. “He gave me one hint, and it was: there will be lines.”

“Pause. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t ask. Have the two of you fooled around yet?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Sort of but not really.”

Cora pulls a face. “What the heck does that mean?”

“It means no, we haven’t slept together—if that’s what you meant.”

She claps, delighted. “Girl, why? I slept with Mark on the first date. I was so hard up, and he smelled like cheap drugstore cologne, but I didn’t care.” Cora laughs.

“Gawd. The first time we were alone together was at my house, and he destroyed my pipes. The second time was the movies, and we ended up talking in the parking lot.”

I don’t tell her about him fingering me; I don’t have time to relive the entire story, not with the clock ticking. Not with the sixth-grade science teacher shooting us glances because Cora can’t keep her voice down.

“Are you planning on dragging this out like you’re saving yourself for someone special?”

I roll my eyes. “We’re not rushing anything.”

Cora snorts. “You’re allowed to have a life, Margot. If you want to get laid, get laid. He is probably filled with so much testosterone. I bet he’d screw your brains out every chance he got.”

My face turns red; I can feel it.

“Maybe. But this is not just about me. Plus, if I’m being perfectly honest, I think I’m a little intimidated by him. He’s ...”

Unlike anyone I’ve known.

Cora nods along as I talk.

“I need to make sure he’s serious. He’s already met Wyatt, so I wouldn’t be the only one getting crushed if he doesn’t want to be in a relationship.”

The thing about my friend?

She’s only sympathetic to a point.

“Right, right.” She’s nodding, but it’s sarcastic. “You’re dating a professional athlete, Margot. If he wasn’t serious, why would he waste his time with a single mother? He wouldn’t. You haven’t had sex, you said so yourself. So why bother, no matter how much of a smokeshow you are.”

That has us both laughing.

“Did you just call me a smokeshow?”

Cora stands, collecting her garbage. “Yes. You know you’re a Milf .”

Pfft. “I don’t think my child is old enough for me to be considered a Milf .”

“Yes, you are.” My friend giggles. “Trust me.”

I rise from my chair, too, and follow her to the trash bin. “I’m an elementary school teacher. What the hell business do I have dating a man with fans who line up to meet him for his autograph?”

Cora tosses her chip bag. “Are you freaking kidding me? If you reject this guy, I will hunt you down. I will gather all our friends, and we will ride at dawn.”

“At dawn to do what ?” I laugh.

“To ... take away your lady card—do not fuck up this opportunity!”

She needs to calm down. “Can you keep your voice down? Ryan is listening.” We glance over at him. “Don’t get carried away here. Baby steps.”

We pause in the doorway of the lounge. “I get that, Margot, I really do.” She pauses.

“You’re smart. You’ve got a beautiful head on your shoulders, but you tend to overthink things, hey?

Just this once don’t overthink it. Go for it.

The worst thing that can happen is you’re disappointed—best thing that can happen is you find the love of your life. ”

I highly doubt Dex Lansing is the love of my life, but stranger things have happened.

“Thanks, Cora.” I give her a little side hug. “You always give the best pep talks.”

“It’s a gift.” She flips her hair dramatically. “Now real quick, tell me more about this date tonight—what are you going to wear? Maybe have your tits out.”

She whispers the last part about my tits because now we’re in the hall and it’s filling with children fresh from recess.

“Jeans and a cute shirt?”

“Jeans and a cute shirt?” Her groan is louder than her speaking voice. “I cannot cosign on a shirt. Don’t you have something sexy ?”

“We’re going out in public—I’m not going to have my boobs out!”

“You’re dating an athlete. Give him a show.”

I laugh. “Literally the only things I have aren’t fun. My closet is embarrassing—I also have nothing that shows cleavage.” Although I could probably borrow something tight.

“If you don’t embrace the fact that you’re going out with a sexy sexpot, there is no hope for the rest of us.”

I stop at my classroom, smiling sweetly at my students as they file back into the room. Like an angel.

“Why do you always make things about you?” I say through gritted teeth.

“I’m speaking for the committee. The itty-bitty-titty committee.”

We lean against my door with a case of the giggles.

“I’ll try.” I hold my fingers up. Scout’s honor. “Don’t expect any miracles.”

But a miracle sure would be nice.

Seated back at my desk, I give my students some time to unwind and get settled in. Everyone needs a bit of me time, and I am no exception, wanting several moments to process and clear my head from Cora’s teasing.

Show off my boobs?

I couldn’t.

I wasn’t lying when I said there was nothing in my closet to show off the girls around Dex, and I’m not about to run to the store to buy something new.

That would be silly.

I nibble my bottom lip. Why not? Why not go to the store and buy something a little less conservative? Invest in yourself!

Lord, give me the confidence to enjoy myself tonight.

I don’t know what to expect, but I hope I survive a night with Dex Lansing.