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SPOTTED: GOGO AND GABI CANOODLING ON SOUTH BEACH. IS IT LOVE?

Look out, Graylings and Trainspotters: there’s a new It Couple in town.

GoGo Heller, Miami Cyclones superstar wide receiver, has been seen coast-to-coast with rising pop starlet Gabrielle Rose.

The two embarked on a whirlwind courtship after being introduced by Kai Reinhart, Heller’s teammate.

Rose is the opening act for Reinhart’s boyfriend, Sterling Grayson, who needs no introduction.

Heller was spotted with dozens of pink roses waiting just offstage for Rose after Grayson’s tour stop in St. Louis, the closing date of his American leg of the record-setting ‘Goalposts’ tour.

A month from now, Grayson will resume the tour in Europe, but without Rose, who is staying behind to spend time in the studio.

It’s a safe bet that Rose’s downtime will feature lots of intimate moments with Heller, who sources say is “smitten” with his new lady-friend .

“GoGo knew the first time he saw Gabi that she was the girl for him,” gushed an anonymous friend of the NFA star.

“He’s a traditional guy; he wants marriage and a family.

Despite her sexy public image, Gabi has similar goals.

It might seem like they are getting really close, really fast, but they both believe that, when you meet the right person, you just know it. ”

Rose has been spotted at three Cyclones games so far this season, and has become a fixture in the stands.

Wearing Cyclones green and gold, and prominently sporting a necklace with Heller’s number on it (which was allegedly a gift from Heller himself), Rose couldn’t possibly be a better cheerleader.

And she’s always first on the field after the game with a congratulatory smooch for her man.

The pair were photographed having a very public dinner for two at Ottillie, one of South Beach’s hottest ressies, after an afternoon sunning themselves beneath a private cabana on the sand.

Two weeks ago, during the Cyclones’ free weekend following a Thursday night game, the pair checked into the Mandarin Oriental in New York City and spent a rainy weekend hitting up all the designer boutiques and kissing beneath umbrellas on the sidewalk.

Heller and Rose are paparazzi darlings, unlike their good friends Grayson and Reinhart, who are seldom seen together in public.

Being lovestruck has been good for Heller’s always- impressive numbers. After Week Six of the regular season, he was averaging 8.3 receptions per game, with 102.5 yards per game and four touchdowns. The Cyclones are undefeated so far in the 2024-2025 season.

***

“You want the good news or the bad news?” Peter asks.

“You know me, Pete,” you say. You are leaned back in your desk chair, munching on a Pink Lady apple.

Your nutritionist has been pressed as hell about your consumption of sweets.

It’s not your fault that Sterling keeps baking you cookies and overnighting them to your door.

“I always prefer to get the bad news out of the way.”

His face looks solemn. In Los Angeles, on the other side of the screen, he tilts his head.

“They’re burning your jersey,” he says carefully. “Last week, it was in Kansas City before the Chiefs game. This week, it’s in Macon. It was on the field at your old high school, although the police say that there’s no connection to any of the students or faculty there.”

“Oh, Georgia.” You toss your half-eaten apple in the air and catch it neatly between your hands. “Never change.”

Your tone is casual, but it’s hard to conceal the fact that it hurts .

Your stupid Google News alerts clued you in to what was happening, hi-def photos of angry white forty-somethings stoking the flames and waving signs that said God Hates Fags and Fire Reinhart.

It’s exactly the kind of attention you didn’t want when you went pro, the kind that always kept you subtle about your romantic life in the past.

“It’s just a bunch of good ol’ boy bigots,” Pete says, steepling his fingers. “Your press is overwhelmingly positive. The public loves you and Sterling. And that brings me to the good news…”

“I already know about the nominations for Sexiest Man Alive,” you say. “Maeve got the dirt and told Sterling. Does anybody even still read magazines?”

“I’m not talking about that,” he says dismissively. “Although, congrats, by the way. I was talking about your jerseys. Sales are way, way up. The NFA Shop is having a hard time keeping them in stock.”

“That’s cool,” you say, not really meaning it.

“You’re beating GoGo and Jameson. Even Sandy. Lots of women’s jerseys, although the men are scooping them up as well.”

All that says to you is that there’s going to be bad blood in the locker room. Not with Sandy, obviously, but GoGo and Jameson are pretty pink princesses who need to sparkle. This much you tell Peter, who rolls his eyes .

“A rising tide lifts all boats,” he reasons. “The Cyclones’ merch is flying off the shelf. You guys are, by far, America’s favorite team right now.”

“I doubt that GoGo looks at it that way,” you counter.

He looks flinty. “Frankly? Fuck GoGo. He couldn’t be more blatant about this thing with the little blonde pop tart. Fame whoring is a bad look. Doesn’t matter how productive you are, or how many teenage boys think you hung the moon.”

“Gabi’s actually a sweetheart,” you tell him. “I hope he’s as romantic with her as in all the pictures. She deserves it.”

“Don’t worry about Gabi,” Pete says. “Keep your own side of the street swept. How are things going with Sterling?”

You raise an eyebrow. Crunch your apple loudly. “I feel like you’re not asking me that as an interested friend, Pete.”

“Of course I’m interested.” He gets distracted momentarily by someone off-camera, makes a motion like a shutting door. “Thanks, Sherri. Leave it in my box. Sorry, Kai. What was I saying?”

“You were asking about my love life. For totally friendly reasons.”

“Yes!” Peter points at the camera. “I don’t know how this happened to the single most fame-avoidant player I know, but you and Sterling are magic.

That’s a very clever tactic you guys are taking, by the way—avoiding the paparazzi.

Leaving them wanting more. I don’t know who told you to do it, but give them my appreciation.

I really think all this positive spin is going to translate into dollar signs come the post-season. ”

Almost choking on your bite of fruit, you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh. We’re not playing that game. My personal life is my personal life.

I’m not using any ‘tactics.’ Honestly, I just wish the press would leave us alone.

I don’t give a shit about what it does for my contract. I’m not interested in all that smoke.”

Peter laughs dryly. “Well, interested or not, my friend, it’s happening.

And I’d say that the press leaving you alone is a pipe dream.

You made the choice to date the most famous singer in the Western world, Kaius.

You might as well lean into the hype, because it’s going to follow you with or without your approval. ”

You grit your teeth, hating that you know he’s right. Hating this whole conversation. Honestly, why are you cursed with an agent who likes to call you to have conversations like this?

It isn’t until he laughs that you realize you said that last part out loud .

“I love you too, Kai,” he says. “Someone has to tell you these things.”

Just then, your phone vibrates where it is laying face-down on the edge of your desk. You flip it over.

“I gotta go, Pete,” you say, happy to be interrupted.

“Who’s more important than me?” he jokes.

“The most famous singer in the Western world,” you deadpan, even as you click the button to connect Sterling’s call.

Pete blows you an obnoxious kiss as Sterling’s handsome face fills the screen.

***

Sterling is writing an album.

To be specific, Sterling is almost done writing an album.

He’s been working on it since before you two met, but it’s only recently that he’s folded you into the circle of trust regarding the subject.

You understand why: a new Sterling Grayson album is a big fucking deal.

Everyone who even hears about its existence—not the title, and not even a single guitar lick from a single track—gets hit with the lawyer-stick.

NDAs everywhere. You ask, only half-jokingly, if you need to sign yet another contract to be sworn to secrecy about the project.

Dead-serious, Sterling asks if he should contact Francis.

It isn’t until Maeve starts snorting that Sterling’s facade breaks, and he tells you that he trusts you. It means a lot.

He’s in New York, bouncing between workouts and rehearsals for tour—there’s just under two weeks until Stockholm, now, writing sessions, and recording at his favorite studio.

The Graylings have caught onto his routine, unfortunately, and now it includes Cal and at least one of Sterling’s other bodyguards physically framing him as he pushes through screaming crowds to navigate the narrow span of sidewalk between his car and the front door of the studio.

It looks intimidating, and you tell him so, lying in bed as you guys talk about your day.

This is one of your favorite ways to experience Sterling: surrounded by the white sheets he favors for all his beds in all his homes, at least one dog snoring on his lap—tonight it’s Artemis, who you still haven’t met in person—bare to the waist. Tonight, he’s wearing glasses, and you remark that you haven’t seen him in them before.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “I don’t like wearing them. I only need them for reading and writing. I’ve had LASIK, but they couldn’t quite get my near-vision perfect.”

“How dare they,” you joke. “Didn’t they know who they were dealing with? ”