bet on it - odell beckham jr.

chapter eight

"what do you want, beckham? you need more disclosure forms, need to set up an appointment for an std, what is so damn important that you are seeking me out for?"

he cuts his eyes at me, before crossing his arms across his broad chest. "i'm particular about the women i sleep with, and that isn't the reason why i wanted to talk to you. i wanted to ask you about how in the hell you learned all of that about catching. and i have never, and i mean never, had a woman give me actual good advice."

"oh." my head tilts. "you tried it?"

his lips flatten as he nods, his eyes firmly focused on mine. "yeah i did, and it worked."

"really?" i was stunned, so stunned i couldn't contain the goofy grin across my face. "i'm glad that it worked, see? maybe you should listen to me more often." i wink at him, before playfully nudging him.

his entire demeanour softens, his smirk disappears and a small smile tugs the corner of his lips. "how did you know all that?"

i simply shrug. no way am i going to out myself here, and especially not to someone like him. i'm not gonna tell him that i basically grew up on the ball field, listening to some of the best coaches in the nfl, most of whom that have passed down their secrets as they taught my dad and countless others. nor will i mention the fact that my dad also, is one of the best coaches of all time since he's retired from playing.

nope, i ain't saying shit. because if i admit the truth, then of course, everyone will find out who i am. the bastard child of the ex-wife of omari copeland, the one that he raised but then didn't even want.

that would be admitting my biggest weakness, the largest gaping wound of my heart. and from what i've learned from these guys? they would have a field day with that kind of information. literally. so i keep my answer short and sweet and completely elusive.

"i watch a lot of football."

"you watch a lot of football." he repeats, laughing softly.

"yes." i flash him a grin and shrug. "and even more now, i'm glad my advice worked for you, odell. but for now i need to get back to that matter."

i point my finger in the direction towards the field, where all the guys are lounged around on the grass, shoving greasy pizza into their mouths.

"good luck with that." his smirk is back, but that's totally fine. we shared a few minutes together where we didn't hate each other and now it's back to business for me.

i stomp towards them all, crossing my arms over my chest. "y'all are not serious." i cut my eyes at all of them, scanning the group.

"ira, you should try this. it's fucking amazing." landon tells me, entering another piece of pizza into his mouth and letting a moan escape.

"yeah, it's so good. maybe we should get pizza again tomorrow?" someone else pipes in, a chorus of agreement erupting between them.

"tomorrow's saturday, i don't care what you eat on that day. but what i do care about is what you eat through monday and friday, and by judging by all the crap you've all eaten, you'll be lucky if any of you can even run to score a touchdown."

"you know, ira. mothers are supposed to be uplifting and supportive. they sell books on that, you know, how to be a mother–"

"i am not your mother. i'm a grown ass woman, hired to keep you guys in shape. and you all make it so god damn difficult!"

"here, ira. try a piece." eli—the quarterback—interrupts, taking a slice of pizza out of his box. he rises to his feet and starts to walk towards me.

i freeze slightly, having never been fully addressed by him. i'm not sure exactly what it is about this guy, but while the rest of them obviously don't like me, none of them scare me.

it's different with eli though. he's never been outright mean to me, but it's just something about the way he carries himself. something about his eyes, where just plain cruelty lurks beneath the surface.

it could very well be the fact that not long ago, his wife pressed domestic charges against him. a few photos made it into the media, showing a very pretty, petite woman whose face was completely unrecognisable due to the amount of bruising and swelling to her cheeks, eyes and lips. the charges ended up being dropped. but, i could totally see him doing that kind of thing and i barely even know the guy.

"no thanks." i tell him, taking a step back.

"what, too good for pizza?"

"no, it's not that. i just don't want–"

he trips as he steps towards me, or at least makes it look like he trips as he begins to fall, the slice of pizza in his hand flying towards me. the slice hits me in the square of my chest and right in the middle of my white shirt.

i scream and stumble backwards but the force of eli made me fall flat on my ass. i hit the ground forcefully, pain shooting up my body. and to make matters worse, i hear the distinct rip of my shirt as it splits open on the arm seam. while i hit the ground like a truck, eli lands more gracefully, hitting his knees onto the grass.

my fall knocks the wind out of me and instead of trying to get up to my original standing position, i am fumbling, trying to get pizza sauce off my face.

"oh my god." i moan, trying to get my bearings to stand as laughter erupts from all the guys.

i blink hard once i could open my eyes, and begin blindly wiping the rest of the sauce with my sleeve. my ass hurts for sure, yet that's not why i have to swallow down a sob, it's definitely humiliation that has my tears building.

i swallow hard. lord, they would love to see me cry, nevertheless no way in hell am i giving them that kind of satisfaction. it's just a little fall, and a lot of pizza on my clothes. it's not a big deal at all.

i manage to get up on all fours, and after a deep breath, i start to get a grip. my head snaps up, as i hear the distinct sounds of laughter still ringing out from across the field.

i swallow hard for the third time and start to stand, when two big cleats stand in front of me, with a large hand being held out. i glance up past the hand to the face attached and see odell in front of me, a frown spread across his face. he gives me a concerned look as i take his hand, and he pulls me to a standing position. "you all right, you hurt?"

the lump in my throat grows from the softness in his voice. seriously, the last thing i need right now is for someone to be nice to me.

"i'm fine."

"here, take this. i think you need it more than i do." he thrusts a napkin into my hand, which i accept.

i mumble a, 'thank you', before glaring at eli who is crouched over, hands on his knees and losing his shit right now with laughter. turning on one heel, i stalk off the field and back to the safety in my office.