Playing By The Rules (The Players)

I ENTER the house minutes after I watched Blair stride inside, and I’m immediately in search of her. The place is packed with people and I can’t help but wonder what the fuck would it be like if the party was held on a Saturday night.

It’s Sunday and everyone showed up in droves. But a party is a party. The day it’s happening doesn’t really matter.

“Camden, hi!” A cute girl with half her tits hanging out of her dress greets me, a red solo cup clutched in her hand, her overly bright smile unsettling.

“Hey.” I glance around the room, wishing I would spot Blair’s familiar blonde head so I could get away from this woman but no such luck.

“How are you?”

“I’m good.” I hesitate, staring at her face. Do I know her? Did I hook up with her before? Shit, I can’t remember and I feel like a shithead. “How are you?”

“Fantastic. Glad that you’re here. You were awesome in yesterday’s game,” she gushes before she takes a big gulp from her cup.

“Thanks.” I see a blonde in the distance. “Nice seeing you.”

I start to walk, the girl calling after me, “Let’s catch up soon!”

Yeah. More like never.

It goes on like this for a few minutes. I keep running into women, who are overly familiar with me, and I don’t know if they’re just acting this way to make conversation with me or if I actually know them. The more this happens, the worse I feel, and when I finally spot a familiar face—Ace’s—I’m actually glad.

And I am rarely glad to see this kid. He makes me feel old. He makes me feel like he’s gunning for my position and I can’t trust him. I hate that.

Though the feeling old part is the worst of it.

If I continue on with football, am I going to feel like that for the entirety of my career? Constantly worried that someone else is eager and ready to take my place? A couple of mistakes and the coaching staff could be ready to get rid of me. A bad season could mean I get traded. An injury could mean I’m out for the season. Or even out for good.

All of that shit is nerve-racking. I’ve been a lucky son of a bitch the past three seasons. I’ve had some hard sacks. Been injured a couple of times, but nothing too serious. I need to sail through this season and then I’ll be free.

Only to torture myself and hope I get picked up in the NFL draft.

“My number one QB,” is how Ace greets me when I get close enough to hear him. He’s currently surrounded by a posse of women, and they are all watching him with adoration in their eyes. He slaps me on the back. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” I smile at the women who are all watching me with interest flaring in their gazes before I return my focus to Ace. “There are a lot of people here.”

“Isn’t it great? I didn’t think we’d have as big a bash since it’s a Sunday, but here we are.” He spreads his arms out wide, indicating the packed frat house, and I can’t help but smile at him. He seems so damn pleased with himself. “Helps that people like you show up. Tried to invite Maguire, but he didn’t respond. Was kind of hoping you’d bring him with you.”

“He wasn’t home when I left.” Pretty normal for Knox. Sometimes he holes up in the library on Sunday night to do homework. He did that a lot last year, and it helped him to focus and keep up his grades.

“That’s too bad. I’d like to get to know him better. I’d love to get to know you better too, but you guys are always out on the field while I’m sitting on the sidelines.” His smile is completely unassuming, and I almost don’t know how to take his comment. Is he bashing on us?

Or is he just that freaking nice?

“I saw Blair earlier.” He drops the comment casually and that gets my attention.

“Oh yeah?” I try to play it cool, but I’m desperate to find her.

“Yeah.” He leans in closer, his voice lowering. “I thought you two were a thing.”

“Why would you think that?” I work hard to keep my expression completely neutral, but I feel like I’m going to crack under the sudden pressure.

Why the hell would he assume Blair and I are together?

“You two looked pretty cozy last night.”

“We did?”

“I saw your hand on her thigh.” He sends me a look, one that says I know what you two are up to. “I get it if you don’t want to say anything to Maguire. From what I’ve observed, he’s pretty overprotective of his sister.”

Fuck. He saw that? And here I thought we were being discreet.

“It was nothing.”

“That’s what she said.”

My heart drops. “Did she tell you we were together?”

“No. She played it off like you’re currently doing.” Ace laughs, slowly shaking his head. “It’s cool, bro. Your secret is safe with me.”

“There’s no secret to keep,” I protest.

“So, if I told Maguire that I saw you with your hand on his sister’s thigh at Logan’s, he wouldn’t care?”

Knox specifically sent me to sit with Blair to protect her, as he calls it. Yes, he would care.

A lot.

“Best if you never mention it,” I say as casually as possible.

“That’s what I thought.” He reaches out to slap me on the back again, nearly sending me a couple of steps forward. The kid is strong. “Like I said, your secret is safe with me.”

“Ooh, Ace, are you saying Camden Fields has secrets?” one of the women asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Anything to do with football and strategy? Yeah. I’m taking his secrets to the grave.” Our gazes meet and I wish I could tell him thank you, but I just nod my agreement.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

“I’m going to grab something to drink,” I tell Ace.

“Everything’s either in the kitchen or the backyard. Have fun, bro. Come back by and we can chat some more. I’ll be holding court here all night,” Ace says with a friendly smile.

I leave him with his harem of babes and make my way to the kitchen, my head spinning. Fucking Ace—he knows. Who else knows? Did anyone notice us? I thought we were being so sly. Ace was sitting right next to Blair on the other side of her, so I guess I should’ve assumed he might’ve seen something.

Here I was, overly confident while touching her under the table, and we still got caught. It’s fucking worrisome.

I enter the kitchen, appreciating that it’s not as crowded, even though this is where all the booze is. My gaze catches on a familiar blonde head and I’m filled with relief to see it’s Blair.

Only to be immediately filled with rage when I notice she’s with some random guy, who’s currently talking to her tits.

Without thinking, I approach them, stopping just behind Blair, my gaze fixed on the dude who’s still staring at her chest. Blair glances over her shoulder, doing a double take when she realizes it’s me, and she turns her back to the guy, the relief on her face obvious.

“Cam! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She’s louder than usual, her expression overly bright, and I get the sense she’s putting on a show.

Probably trying to get rid of the dickhead behind her. Hopefully.

“Oh yeah? Well, here I am.” I stare at her beautiful face, entranced for a second too long before I send a scathing look toward the dude. “Who’s your…friend?”

“Cohen.” The guy holds his hand out for me and I lean across Blair to briefly shake his hand, giving it an extra squeeze to flex my strength because I’m an asshole like that. “You were fucking amazing yesterday, bro.”

Bro. I’m not this guy’s bro.

“Thanks,” I say coolly, my gaze returning to Blair’s, who’s watching me with pure panic in her eyes. “You two just meet?”

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“Maguire’s sister,” Cohen tells me, like I’m an idiot. Like I don’t live with the very Maguire he’s referring to.

“Yeah, I know.” Blair turns to face Cohen, standing right next to me, and I sling my arm around her bare shoulders, staking my claim as I pull her into my side. Like we’re a couple or whatever. “Just a warning to you, Cohen. I’m as protective of her as her brother is. And that’s saying a lot.”

It’s quiet among the three of us, despite the party raging on around us. The music and the constant chatter. The people yelling outside, their good-natured shouts making me wish I was out there. The tension between me and Cohen grows the longer we watch each other. And the look of pure panic on Cohen’s face when he realizes I’m not playing is undeniable.

A wave of satisfaction washes over me. God, sometimes I really am an asshole, but this guy needs to get the hint.

“Noted,” Cohen says solemnly, his gaze flicking to the right. “Uh, I just spotted my friends over there. I’ll see you both later. Nice meeting you.”

Cohen is gone in an instant and the moment he is, Blair is shaking my arm off her shoulders, turning to glare up at me.

“You drove him away.” Her tone is accusatory.

“And I don’t get a thank you?”

“You just did it in such an…intimidating way,” she says.

“How else did you expect me to get rid of him? He was all over you.” I saw red. I wanted to fuck that guy up. All because he was smiling at Blair.

Smiling.

Oh yeah, and staring at her tits.

Why did I get so pissed just now over some dumb guy? Over Blair?

Because you like her, you idiot.

“He wasn’t all over me. Not really.” I hate that she defends him, but then she adds, “It was kind of weird how he knew so much about my family, though. That was a little off-putting.”

She crosses her arms in front of her, which plumps up her breasts, causing them to rise above the fabric of her dress a little. I’m fairly positive she’s not wearing a bra and that realization causes my insides to go a little haywire.

“I’m not surprised.” I’m more surprised that I’m defending the asshole. “Your family is pretty famous. We all like talking about your dad and uncle. And your cousins.”

“Yeah, but you don’t feel this constant need to mention them all the time. That guy latched on to it and couldn’t stop talking about them. It’s just—it’s weird sometimes. Still.” She drops her arms, shrugging.

“Your dad was famous,” I remind her.

“When I was younger. I don’t remember a lot of it. And he wasn’t nearly as popular as Uncle Drew.” She pauses, her gaze meeting mine. “That sort of thing could happen to you, you know. In fact, I think it’s definitely going to happen.”

I scoff, stuffing down the surge of pleasure I feel at her words. “Yeah, right.”

No way can I count on it. Shit changes on a dime. I’ll be praised and loved one minute, torn apart and ravaged the next. Everything hinges on how I play this season.

Everything.

“I’m being serious. You’ll end up in the draft and you’ll get picked up pretty fast. By the third or fourth round at least. And when you take your new team far, which I have no doubt you’ll do exactly that, then you’ll be famous too. A celebrity. Like my uncle. The quarterbacks always get all the attention.” She peers at me, like she’s trying to look deep into my mind. My soul. “Are you prepared for that?”

I’m not even focused on her asking if I’m prepared for so-called fame. I’m too caught up on the fact that she has no doubts in regard to my success. She actually believes I’ll be in the NFL one day and that I’ll be successful.

That feels…good. Fucking awesome, really. No one has that sort of faith in me. My parents are too wrapped up in their own problems to worry about me. My brother probably doesn’t even remember my name. My teammates don’t say shit like that because we’re all so focused on our own selves, and I totally understand that. I get it. I’m too wrapped up in my own shit too.

My coaches tell me I can do it, but they also share their doubt with me. Or they add the word “if” to every sentence.

If you have a good season.

If you don’t get injured.

If you make it into the draft.

If you get picked up.

If. If. if.

Blair just flat out said I’ll make it. Her belief in me is that solid.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll worry about it when it happens.” I shrug, trying to play it cool. Like I don’t have a single concern in the world about my future.

“Oh, come on. You know it’s going to happen.” She reaches out to swat at my chest and I grab her wrist, keeping her hand pinned to my chest. She doesn’t struggle to get away. She doesn’t make any demands either.

No, Blair just stands there and lets me hold her. Let’s me stare into her eyes as I try to quietly convey how much it means to me, what she just said.

That she fucking believes in me when, most of the time, I don’t even believe in myself.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “We’ll see.”

“So cryptic,” she murmurs.

“I have to be.” I tug on her wrist, pulling her even closer, her body gently colliding with mine. “I don’t believe in myself as much as you seem to believe in me.”