Page 13 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

Kyle Weaver

Watch for the QB. Break the gap. Grab the ball. Run like hell.

These are the same instructions Dad gave me back in High School, and they’ve helped me since. I am the best linebacker of the century, after all.

Offense snaps the ball, and my senses heighten, and it’s like everything’s slow motion. The QB tosses to the wide receiver on the left. I spot a gap in the line and burst through, too fast for the lineman to stop me. Just before the wide receiver catches the ball, I jump and seize it.

And then I start running.

And the whistle blows.

“Damnit,” I say through my mouthguard. “Come on.”

I take off my helmet, which widens my vision. The bleachers are mostly empty except for a few of our team’s officials. They’re likely putting together a strategy for this next season. And determining what role their linebacker is going to play.

I jog over to the huddle, still pissed that we didn’t do the whole play.

Some coaches, along with my agent, are in those bleachers.

I want them to see that I’m losing weight.

That I’m getting faster. That I can outrun just about anyone on the field.

Maybe then they’ll forget about this whole girlfriend deal and re-sign me based on my enhanced skills.

That’s what I’m hoping for .

“That’s enough for today,” Ezequiel says. Since he’s the most senior player, he tends to call the shots. I’m old on the team, too, but I don’t have too much to say of a say without an official contract. I’m just grateful that Ezequiel’s even inviting me.

I kick my cleats into the turf and curse to myself. I damn well hope that someone saw me out there. I gotta prove that I’m worth the trouble.

“You did good,” Ezekiel says jogging up to me.

“You think so?” I ask.

“Yeah, man,” he says. Then he marvels at my slimming torso. “And you’re slimming up.”

I pat my belly. “I’m already missing it.”

Ezekiel laughs. “I just can’t wait until I can eat what I want.”

I groan. “Tell me about it.” Retirement is only a year or two away for us. But I’m winning that Championship Game first.

We make our way to the locker rooms.

“You wanna join us for lunch?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Y’all go ahead. Got an appointment with my financial advisor.”

“Everything good?” Ezekiel asks.

I shrug. “He thinks we should discuss my charity donations now that retirement is coming up.”

Ezekiel puts his arm on my shoulder. “They’re gonna re-sign you. They’d be crazy not to.”

I wipe the sweat off my forehead as we reach the locker room. We go to our lockers, which are thankfully far away from other team members.

“I don’t know, man,” I say, lowering my voice. Reporters are already here, asking the other players questions. “I just think it’s wild that my job hinges on me having a woman.”

He sighs. “I get it.” I know he’s just being nice, but I doubt he does. Even if Ezekiel left his wife of five years, he’d be able to find one in a heartbeat. But not me. I’ve been trying find a woman my whole life, and now I got a three month deadline? It’s all bullshit .

“How’s that going by the way?” He asks.

My heart burns. “If you’re asking if I have a girlfriend, the answer is no.”

“I knew that,” Ezekiel says, which hurts more than I liked it to. “I mean your book club thing. Isn’t that how Timmy thinks you’ll find someone?”

Book club.

Images of Michael’s smiling face fills my mind.

“It’s fun,” I admit. “I’m even helping out someone there with their writing.”

Ezekiel beams and taps me on the arm. “There you go. See, maybe this is the one.”

My stomach tumbles over itself at the thought.

I’m not gay, but I’ve wondered what it would be like to date a man.

And naturally, that man I wonder about happens to be Michael.

He’s so sweet, and these books he’s having me read—I thought they would be boring, but damn do these women know how to write.

I stayed up way past my bedtime reading that Emily Henry.

She makes me want to kick my feet like a little girl.

I’m no expert at love, but I just have this feeling that dating Michael would feel a little something like that.

Just a thought though.

The reporter makes his way to Ezekiel, which means it’s time for me to go. Not even fully out of my practice gear, I grab my things and make my way out. In my hand, my phone buzzes with that particular notification, and I get a rush of adrenaline. Michael posted a new video.

“Wait, Kyle,” another reporter says. “We have some questions—”

“No comment!” I yell out as I scurry the hell out of there. My agent said to not talk to the press until I have a girl, which means I don’t have to talk to anyone yet. Thank God.

I fast-walk to my car. I throw open the trunk, toss all my shit inside, and get inside my car before any more reporters can harass me. I welcome the blistering heat, sweat dripping down my bare chest, and that’s when I remember the notification.

My heart pounding, I open the notification and go straight to OnlyFans. I know it’s risky opening it up here, but this is the first video he’s posted since he and I started meeting. And I don’t know if I like it .

I start the video, and there’s no foreplay. They get right to it.

Heat surges throughout my body, and that stale car heat no longer feels good. I turn on my car and start blasting AC. “Come on,” I say, hot and uncomfortable. “Cool me off already.”

The guy railing him is one of his old regulars.

Oh God. Are they dating? Have they been dating this whole time?

I just assumed, since Michael has videos with so many different guys, that he was single.

I should be okay with this. Michael is just some guy—a friend, nothing more.

But then why do I feel like I’m burning from the inside out?

And his face. It’s hardened, and his eyes almost look puffy. He’s upset.

Someone knocks on my window, and I shout and throw my phone into the air. I quickly grab it and not only close it but shut it off. I pray to the god I’ve grown up with that whoever this is didn’t just see me watching Michael.

I put my phone in the little cubby and turn to the person standing at my window. The sun shines off his bald head.

I roll down the window. “Hey, Timmy,” I say.

“Scared ya there,” he says, leaning on the window frame.

I force a laugh. “Just startled me is all. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to follow up on how the dating’s going,” he says. “Haven’t heard from you.”

Even with the AC blasting, I just get hotter. “It’s uhh… going.”

“You are trying to find someone, right? Management still hasn’t budged on their stance. They want to see you with a girlfriend, and only then will they consider. The sooner the better.”

Great. Even with my improved playing, I’m still in the same place I was. “I’m trying, Timmy. I promise.”

“Well gimme some details then.”

I freeze up. I still haven’t even gone, but Michael has been telling me what they’re reading.

“Yeah, we’ve been reading…”

“I don’t care about the books,” he says. “Are you meeting girls there or not? ”

That heartburn feeling returns. The only person I’ve talked to at book club is Michael. So, I just make up a lie.

“Yeah, I… I’ve been talking to this girl.” If I had known Timmy wouldn’t care about the books, I wouldn’t have needed to set up my little agreement with Michael. But, in truth, I’m glad we are reading together. And I like spending time with Michael.

Relief melts his tense shoulders. “Alright, good. Tell me a little bit about her.”

“She’s…” I pause. I told Ezekiel I was helping someone with their writing. I can do the same thing here. “…a writer. I’m looking at the stuff she writes. It’s real good. She’s even having me read—”

“That’s good,” he said, tapping my window frame. “Good details. Send me a picture ASAP, and I’ll talk to management. Hoping they soften their stance. Then we’ll have a chance of getting you back on the team.”

My stomach jumps so much it feels like I’ve been stabbed.

I have to take a deep breath. At least by now the AC is doing its job.

I’ve just dug myself into deeper into my lie.

It means everything to honor my dad’s legacy by winning the Championship Game, but getting there by fooling everyone around me just feels sleazy.

Yet finding and committing to a girl in less than three months makes me even more nauseous.

I want it to be true. Authentic. But now I either have to find a girl, and fast, and deal with all the depression that comes with that later.

Or I just have to keep lying. And now, Timmy’s expecting hard evidence, which of course I don’t have.

Timmy taps my door and pushes away. “More updates like these,” he says. “Keep ‘em coming. Send that picture over quick.”

“I will Timmy,” I say. “I gotta go. See ya around.”

He walks away as I roll up my window. The AC ice cold, my sweat now chills me, and I rub my bare arms. Sitting there, I turn my phone back on. I make my way back to the video and watch the rest with a frown on my face, not even aroused.

My life is a mess. But seeing Michael clearly upset like this triggers the protective Southern man in me. Is it because of this guy he’s been seeing? Someone else? I need to know .

At the very least, I did tell one truth to Timmy: there is a special someone I’m seeing.

One who is smart and kind and interesting—one who just happens to not be a woman.

I can’t bear to imagine what would happen to my career if this secret got out, but it would be worse to just stuff it all down and suffer through a relationship with a woman I couldn’t bear to call mine.

So, I’ll lie until there’s a better solution.

And in the meantime, I need to know what has Michael so upset. And if this man fucking him is really his man.