Page 50 of Who’s Playing You (In The Nick of Time #1)

SCOTTIE ANDERSON

“ S o this is the fourth quarter, the last one of the game. We have possession and so that means your feller will be going out there with the offense - trying to gain us some yards, move our boys up the field, and getting us a touchdown,” Atticus explained to me.

“Okay, I think I got it.”

He just chuckled good naturedly. I was seated in the very first row by the glass windows, sandwiched between Atticus and Mrs. Soba.

It appeared that Atticus had been serious when he said I was his new best friend, because he’d basically ignored just about everyone during the game except for me, his wife, and the Sobas.

When he realized that I knew literally nothing about football, he didn’t cast judgement or look down on me. Quite the opposite. He’d moved us right up front to the glass and had explained just about every big play of the game.

And by the fourth quarter, that we were currently in, I think I got the gist of it.

Turns out, Atticus was quite the character. And I genuinely liked him. His wife, Trina, was also lovely and we’d hit it off so hard that she was coming to my studio tomorrow so she could see a few of the pieces that I had been working on.

Meanwhile, the Sobas had been nothing but amazing. Mrs. Soba just chuckled and said she was happy that her son finally grew a pair and asked me out, which had Mr. Soba laughing harder.

At halftime we had chatted a little, caught up on life, and that’s when she’d told me that she’d truly missed me these last few years. She shared that she saw the dramatic impact that my friendship had had on her daughter, and she quite literally thanked me for giving her her daughter back.

She said that she firmly believed that if it weren’t for me that Nat never would have begun to work on herself as well as her relationship with her mom, stepdad and siblings.

Turns out, a few years back, Nat told her mom that she started therapy while she was in college.

Mrs. Soba had hugged me and insisted I call her Natasha, but I was finding it hard to do so.

She had then said, “So tell me all about you two crazy kids.” I’d given her the SparkNotes version of how we had met, how I had no idea who he was.

I continued to tell her that we’d been spending a lot of time together, and then I told her how Nicholas had come to my rescue last week.

I was worried she might think I was taking advantage or that it was too much too soon, but she just patted my leg and had said, “Sounds like you two are off to a great start.”

I had wanted to ask her thoughts on what she thought Nat might say or do when she’d hear the news, but I chickened out. At the moment I was simply relieved that she and Nathan - another name I had to get used to using - didn’t judge me or hate me for dating their son, and living in his house.

“Run, boy, RUN!” Atticus yelled as he sprung to his feet.

With the commotion that startled me and Natasha, my head whipped to the field where I saw Nicholas dodging not one or two but about five huge players from the opposing team who were all trying to maim him. At least from my vantage point it looked like they were trying to maim him.

He pushed one down to the ground like a limp biscuit while Atticus kept yelling something about a stiff arm. Nicholas then ducked another while jumping over a third all while running yard after yard towards the end zone.

“TOUCHDOWN!” the announcers yelled over the speakers coming from the TVs while the crowd in the VIP suite did the same thing, and the crowd in the stadium below us went nuts.

Natasha and I were hugging and jumping up and down in celebration, like we’d personally run the ball to the end zone ourselves.

Atticus joined us when he infiltrated our huddle, throwing his big arms around both of us and beaming from ear to ear all while jumping up and down with us.

“I knew that boy of yers was different,” he yelled over the celebratory noise to Natasha, and she smiled at him in return.

“And you!” he said while he looked at me, all jumping now forgotten.

“I think yer the lucky charm. Natasha, you tell that boy of yers not to let this one here go. I can feel it, this girl is going places right along with that son of yers. Together, hot-dawg! They’ll be unstoppable. ”

“Don’t I know it,” Natasha responded.

“Now, go on y’all,” Atticus said as he waved a hand toward the door. “George over there will take y’all down to the field to celebrate with today’s MVP.”

With that, Natasha, Nathan and I made our way over to George who got us down to the field within minutes to join in the celebrations of the first game and win of the season.

I felt very overwhelmed with the amount of people on the field and in the stands, the amount of noise was almost deafening. Natasha grabbed my arm and interlocked it with hers, “Come on, Scottie, I got you,” she said like a seasoned pro who’d been to more games than she could probably count.

Nathan led the way and before long we found Nicholas where he was surrounded by not only his teammates but by reporters and fans alike. About four or five different cameras and mics were aimed directly at him and he spoke with such confidence and control.

I found it interesting to see this brand new side of him.

While we stood off to the side and observed, I watched his body language and the words he was carefully selecting.

He was so controlled and he carefully curated what he gave away.

Meanwhile, I felt that with me he was… well, the exact opposite.

With me he was so free and vulnerable - so honest and open.

With everyone here he seemed almost closed off, pissed and annoyed.

Sure, he was talking and answering questions - talking about the game - but it was his body language that spoke volumes.

He was stiff and guarded. Like he was almost putting up a facade or a front.

I wasn’t judging him for it, and maybe I was totally wrong. But it struck me how completely different he looked and the vibes he was giving off in this moment compared with how he was with just me. I made a mental note to ask him once we got home.

As I finished that thought and looked around the stadium once more, in awe that he was just out here and playing a game where everyone was watching him, I heard my name being said right before big arms wrapped around me. “There you are, honey.”

I could feel his smile and joy in the way that his body wrapped itself around mine.

“Congratulations!” I replied, not sure if he could hear me over the boisterous crowds all around us. “You were amazing!”

“That touchdown was for you,” Nicholas whispered in my ear as he pulled back. Once I saw his face, which was all sweaty with his longer inky-black strands sticking to his forehead, I saw that my Nicholas was back. Not the guy who I’d just seen moments ago talking to the reporters.

“It was?”

“It’s all for you, it’s always been, sweetheart,” he said before he kissed my lips.

The kiss was way too short for my liking, but considering our surroundings, it was probably appropriate. But between his hug and kiss, I was enveloped in Nicholas: his touch, smell, and his joy.

“Congratulations! We’re so proud of you,” his parents said as they waited their turns to hug him.

As he hugged them, Nicholas didn’t let go of my hand. As soon as he finished hugging his dad, his arm wrapped around my lower back, his large hand possessively holding my hip.

That’s when I noticed all the cameras pointed our way, and the looks on the reporters’ faces were what I imagine predators look like once they spot their prey.

“Diva! Diva! Who’s this?”

“You want to introduce us to your lady-friend?”

“Nick, a comment?”

“Is she your girlfriend, fans want to know!”

The questions seemed to come at us from all directions and it left me feeling totally stunned and overwhelmed. All the cameras were back on and pointed at us while the reporters and other people swarmed us.

“Oh come on guys,” Nicholas began. “I already gave you your interviews and answered your questions, give me and my family some space, would ya?”

That’s when I heard one of the reporters yell back, “Since when doesn’t The Diva want to talk to reporters?” before laughing.

Sensing my discomfort, Nicholas tucked me into his body and shielded me while he had indicated to his parents to start making their way off the field, but once that question blew over us and the rest of the crowd around us, Nicholas stopped in his tracks and turned to the reporter.

“That may be true,” he said with such ferocity that I’d never seen from him - or anyone for that matter - and pointed his finger at the reporter.

“But that doesn’t give you the right to think you own me.

I love football and have given everything to the sport.

I hope to continue to do so for many years to come.

But that doesn’t give you a free pass to assume that you own me or that I’ll give you every detail about my life.

I already answered every single question about the game that I was asked - by every single one of you - and now I’m with my family.

Why don’t you show some respect and read the room? ”

That seemed to put things into perspective because a quiet fell over the crowd.

“This is also a team sport. This game was played and won by a team, and I’m just one member.

The rest of my team is right there,” he said as he waved his hand to his left to where almost the entire New York Rage team stood and watched on.

“You have every opportunity to talk to every single one of them. Ask them about their contribution to today’s win.

Ask them about the hard work and sacrifices that they have made to get us to today.

I think you’d be shocked to find how incredible each and every one of them are, and how much their work impacted the outcome.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a private moment with my wife and parents. ”

With that he ushered me towards his parents and away from the crowd of stunned reporters.