Page 21 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

“Besides, I have eyes. Dude is seriously hot.”

“He’s almost fifty. And straight.”

“Dude’s divorced and covering the Blizzards. I bet he’s thought about it.”

I snort. “Want me to tell him you don’t have eyes?”

“Don’t you dare. You can tell him I brought you your things though.”

“I’ll tell him you were a hero.”

“In that case, I’m standing in your room.”

“It’s in my suitcase.”

“You know, normally people bring suitcases when they travel.”

“Throw some clothes in there.”

“Where are you going?”

“Fiji.”

“Fuck. Lucky bastard.”

I give an awkward laugh. “I can’t believe it either.”

“Okay, I’m packing summer clothes for you.”

“Hurry. The plane leaves soon.”

“Got it. I’m zipping up your suitcase.”

“Thanks, Jeremy, you’re the best.”

I call the Sports Sphere office coordinator who handles travel logistics. Twenty minutes later, I’m booked on the same flight as Jason.

Sixteen-year-old me would have loved to live in the same city as Jason.

Twenty-six-year-old me is about to chase him across the ocean. I’ve gone from professional journalist to international stalker in half an hour.

He’s going to absolutely hate it when he finds out.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jason

I loathe flying.

I charge thirteen grand on my credit card, then head for the lounge. A few people shoot me curious looks. Some people frown, and I jut out my chin and square my shoulders and pretend it doesn’t matter.

I’m a truth teller, that’s all.

I head straight for the bar in the lounge. One tumbler of Maker’s Mark slides down my throat like hot embers. I have another. Then another. Unfortunately, nothing can burn away the knot in my chest.

Finally, it’s time to board, and I march to the first-class boarding section. Murmurs follow me everywhere I go, and I shiver under gazes of people I don’t know, but whose disdain is as obvious as if they’re painting me with tar, then flinging feathers.

I hate that this job makes me famous. It’s cool when I go to bars and girls are thrilled to be with someone they’ve seen on TV. But for the most part, it’s annoying, which sounds ungrateful. Because if I had most any other job, not everyone would see when I mess up. Now when I make a mistake, it’s national news.