Page 4 of Mr. Irrelevant (Rock City Renegades #1)

THREE

MADDOX

I hitch the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder, wincing as the pressure pushes on a particularly tender part of my neck. It hurts, but it’s nothing a day off and a massage gun won’t heal. With the amount of times I had my bell rung today, I’m lucky I didn’t sustain any serious injuries.

The whole game was a disaster. I thought having a week to practice together would help me fall into place with my offense, but there’s no substitute for really being on the field with an opponent.

Every play we beat to death over the last six days, making sure we had perfected them all, came crumbling down as soon as the first snap hit my hands.

Seattle has one of the worst pass-rushing defenses in the league, yet they managed to keep the heat on me all day.

I did my best to get rid of the ball quickly, but ended up making silly mistakes that cost my team more points than I’m proud to admit.

I’m feeling every ounce of my inexperience after that one .

Post-game interviews were brutal, with journalists questioning my shitty decisions left and right.

I felt like I was back in elementary school, getting pelted in the face with dodgeballs as I unsuccessfully attempted to duck out of the way.

But every bit of it was warranted. I fucked up, and now I have to face the music.

I sat, staring into my locker, until the rest of the team had funneled out, not even realizing I was alone until a janitor came in and started vacuuming.

Normally, I stick around after a hard loss to hype my teammates up, but this time I was too focused on my own shortcomings to put on a happy face.

I know it’s my job as a leader to do that, but I’m giving myself this one Get Out of Jail Free card.

Next time, I’ll suck it up and move on. But today?

Totally Bummed Out, party of one. Your table’s ready.

Pushing through the stadium doors, I make my way through the empty players’ lot.

I’m a little shocked to see that the sun is already beginning to set over Lake Erie as I approach my pickup truck.

My body aches, my eyes are incredibly heavy, and all I can think about is getting home and crawling into bed.

I plan on using every hour of my day off to sleep and recover, so I can get back to the drawing board with my offense on Tuesday.

We travel to New York on Saturday, so we’ll really need to put in five solid days of work to avoid making the same mistakes we did today.

I toss my bag into the back seat, and just as I’m about to climb in, a firm hand wraps around my shoulder, causing me to practically jump out of my skin.

I immediately go into survival mode, readying myself to give the mugger my wallet, keys, and anything else he wants, which is ridiculous.

I’m a six-foot-four, two-hundred-twenty-pound professional football player.

Whoever he is, I could probably take him—unless he has a weapon.

My blood goes cold, panic washing over me at the thought, and I raise my hands in surrender, turning slowly.

“Please don’t stab m—” I croak, cutting myself off as a tiny blonde comes into view.

She’s over a foot shorter than me, and I can’t stop myself from scanning her features, which are as close to flawless as I’ve ever seen.

She looks kind of familiar with her icy blue eyes and plump, bubblegum-colored lips, but I haven’t been in Cleveland very long, so that can’t be right.

I feel like if I had met her already, I’d remember—especially with tits like that .

Small and perky, just like I like them, and… Fuck. I’m staring at her tits.

“Hello?” she says, pulling my attention back to her face, which is now twisted in annoyance. Her hand settles on her hip as her brows pull tight, and I grimace because I’m absolutely busted.

“I thought you were trying to roll me,” I explain. As if ogling her body wasn’t bad enough, now she thinks I’m a little bitch who wouldn’t even attempt to defend himself in the throes of danger.

I hate it here.

She raises a brow. “You’re a very large twenty-five-year-old man. This is a private parking lot with security. Your mind flew right past rational thought and went to Grand Theft Auto?”

I swallow. “Pretty much, yeah. ”

“And the part where you stared at my boobs for three minutes straight while I tried to get your attention? Was that some sort of defense mechanism?”

My shoulder lifts into a shrug and I lean back against the truck, giving her a cocky grin now that I’ve reigned in my masculinity. “I figured if these were my last moments on Earth, I should spend them doing something I love.”

Her eyes go wide as she chokes on a laugh, jutting her chin forward in disbelief. She opens and closes her mouth several times, but no actual words come out, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have said that out loud. She asked, though. I only gave her an honest answer.

She shakes her head rapidly, as though she’s trying to reset her brain, before finally speaking. “Let’s start over. I’m Livvy Grant. My family owns the Renegades.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I haven’t always been the most noble man.

I’ve snuck out after one-night stands. I’ve rolled through stop signs.

I even stole a pack of gum from the grocery store in my hometown when I was nine because my best friend, Dylan, said I was scared, and I had to prove him wrong.

But I don’t feel like any of that would be grounds for this kind of brutal karma.

I just objectified the fuck out of this woman, whose father holds my entire livelihood in the palm of his hand—and by the look on her face, she’s not impressed at all.

“Fuck,” I mutter quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m Maddox.” I extend a hand between us, and relief washes over me as she takes it, wrapping her delicate fingers around mine firmly .

A knowing smile blooms across her face as she pulls back. “I’m aware. I actually came out here to ask if you were busy tonight. Around midnight?”

Goddammit.

This is just my luck. The hottest girl in Cleveland is asking me out and I have to turn her down because she’s the owner’s fucking daughter.

But how do I do it without hurting her feelings?

Gripping the back of my neck nervously, I shift from one foot to the other as I attempt to come up with an answer that doesn’t make me sound like an asshole.

“I—” I say, licking my lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Livvy. You seem really sweet, and you’re obviously gorgeous, but?—”

Before I can even finish my sentence, a loud, howling laugh bursts from her lips, echoing through the parking lot.

She bends at the waist, slapping her hand against her knee as if I just told the most hilarious joke she’s ever heard.

Fully confused at what the hell is happening, I look around the empty space for a fucking clue, not finding one before sliding my eyes back to her cautiously. “Are you okay?”

She cackles for several more seconds, then stands straight, wiping a stray tear from under her eye and sucking in a tiny snort. “Oh my God, that was good. You’re funny, Maddox.”

“I—what?” I question. Is this girl on something? Because she just went from normal to batshit crazy in point-two seconds. I kind of felt safer when I thought she was going to jack my car.

Training her eyes on my face, her smile slowly fades as her brows shoot up. “Oh no,” she says. “You were serious. You thought I was asking you on a date?”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment, and I pull at the collar of my hoodie because suddenly, I think I’m choking.

How did I read her wrong? She literally asked what I was doing tonight…

what else would I assume she meant? Then again, she’s a fucking knockout.

She probably has a line ten miles long of people willing to go out with her.

I doubt she needs to approach random men in poorly lit parking lots.

Way to make it awkward, Dane.

“Sorry,” I reply. “You just caught me off guard. To be honest, I have no idea what the fuck is going on, Livvy.”

She swallows, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear.

It exposes her slender neck, but before I can fixate on it, I whip my gaze back to hers, trying to be as professional as possible.

This is my boss’ daughter, and after my on-field performances the past two weeks, I need to tread carefully with the entire Grant family.

“I don’t date football players.” She pauses, her eyes flicking away for just a moment before returning to me.

“I just…saw a few things today and have an idea. Will you meet me at the practice facility tonight? I know it’s a weird request, but please just trust me. ”

I shouldn’t. She’s the last person I need to be caught hanging out with.

But I can’t deny that her words have piqued my interest. What did she see today?

And how will meeting her tonight change it?

I know I can’t continue to just sit around and watch my career go down the drain.

This is my one shot to prove to myself and everyone else that I belong here.

“Fine,” I say on a resigned exhale. “But if we get in trouble, I’m saying you kidnapped me.” I swear, I’m like one of those kids who touches a hot stove after you tell them not to, even though they know they’re going to get burned.

A soft giggle bubbles out of her, and I can’t help the subtle smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“We won’t get in trouble,” she replies. “The groundskeeper leaves at ten, and there’s a hidden entrance at the back of the building.

There aren’t any security cameras on the field, so nobody will even know we were there. I promise.”

I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweats, raising a brow. “Okay. I’m trusting you, Livvy.”

“Thank you, Maddox. You won’t regret it.”