More Than Sorry

11: She Dates a Footballer

EDEN

Yvette delivered.

My rebound guy's name is Sam... Something. I mean, really, who cares? He's all kinds of pretty to look at.

Stylish blond hair, big blue eyes, and a pouty cupid's bow mouth, the man is basically a god. Pure muscle. Towers over everyone. Guess that's how you get a nickname like The Mountain. His only imperfections are his slightly crooked nose and a shiner to his left eye.

Apparently, the black eye is from some incredible tackle last night that saved a try—whatever the hell that is. I think it's when a team scores but I'm not not one hundred percent sure because, honestly, who even cares about rugby?

But kudos to Yvette. She outdid herself meeting my requirements for this terrible rebound dating idea. Not a cricketer? Tick. Hot? Not my usual type, but the man is too perfect to be anything less than a big tick. Not dumb? Welp, that remains to be seen, but he seems like a super sweet guy.

Since greeting me with a bear hug outside the football stadium, Sam has hung on my every word, opened doors for me, complimented me more than once on my dress—a classy black designer frock I rented at the last minute—and even said how nice I smell. Like a milkshake. A bit weird, but I'm rolling with it. 

Zach used to tell me how nice I smelled too. Early mornings were my favorite. His heavy body would wrap around mine, tickling soft kisses on the back of my neck, his sleepy voice whispering all kinds of sweet lies about wanting to spend the rest of his life snuggled up with me.

I was such a blind fool.

I mentally kick myself for thinking about Zach. The whole idea of this dumb rebound thing is to stop thinking about him.

Sam's hand anchors me back to reality when it gently presses against my lower back. He protects me close to his side as he weaves us in and out of hordes of football fans begging for his autograph or to have a photo.

Yvette warned me he was famous. Guess she was right. All the attention is kinda... a lot. Sam handles it well—he really is a sweet guy—but I don't bother hiding my relief when we finally make it through the crowds to the exclusive corporate boxes upstairs.

"Ready to face the sharks?" Sam asks, waggling his eyebrows.

"So, what is this shindig again?" I smooth the shimmery layers of my dress, making sure everything looks perfect for his big entrance. "Yvette was kinda vague on details. Some corporate function?"

"Booze fest with the lawyers." Sam shrugs. "They're a corporate sponsor. Coach likes us to rub shoulders with 'em everyone once in a while. Keep 'em happy and shit."

"Oh, man. Lawyers?" I make a gagging face. I've had enough of one particular lawyer to last me a lifetime. "Ugh."

Sam chuckles. "You and Yvette have some serious hang-ups about lawyers. It may surprise you that those uptight bastards can be good fun if you get enough booze in 'em."

"I'll take your word for it," I grumble.

"Babe, I don't want you to be miserable. We're just here to make an appearance. I'll do the rounds, shake a few hands and keep everyone happy. You can shimmy your classy ass around enjoying free champas. Then we fuck off somewhere actually fun."

"Promise?"

"Shit yeah. Yvette suggested margarita shots at El Diablo Cantina at ten. You down?"

"Now that's sounding more like it." I flash Sam a big smile as I give a firm nod. "I'm ready to be smiley arm candy. Let's get this over with so we can get to the real fun."