Playing to Win (The Players)

We’re out on the field, standing on the sidelines and watching the football team practice. Eric is as quick on his feet as the team is, running along beside them, following their every movement with his camera. He’s busy snapping photos and taking videos, while Gwen and I just sit on the grass and watch everything, hot and bored.

Well, I’m hot and bored. Not too sure about Gwyneth.

“This isn’t what I planned,” Gwen says with an exasperated sigh halfway through practice.

Okay, that sounds like confirmation that we’re feeling the same kind of way.

The team has gathered on the sidelines on the away team’s side of the field, taking a water break. My gaze snags on Ace, as if I have no control over myself, lingering on the way he tilts his head back and drinks from the bright red Golden Eagles water bottle clutched in his hand. He’s wearing a cropped white jersey shirt that shows off his washboard abs to perfection and white football pants that cut off just below the knee.

Any other guy I think would look ridiculous, but not Ace. More like he looks ridiculously hot.

I fan myself, turning to Gwen. “What do you mean?”

“This feels just like last year, when Eric filmed all this footage, while I sat around doing nothing and that other girl—Jamie—jumped around hooting and hollering and showing off her boobs for the guys in her endless collection of tank tops.”

Right. Tank top girl who got fired for being a distraction. “That sounds…”

“Awful? I know.” Gwyneth sighs, her gaze stuck on the football team. “I spent a lot of hours in that office trying to create the kind of content I wanted to see with Eric’s footage, but it was impossible. Eric ended up editing a lot of it, though I helped him. It was nothing but the team running out on the field and trying to look like a bunch of macho bad asses.”

I burst out laughing, ignoring the way Gwen scowls at me. “Why don’t we continue creating some content of our own? Don’t forget, I have the footage of Ace throwing that ball.”

“Again, that’s kind of boring.” She makes a face. “I’m not trying to be rude. I just—I want to do something different.”

“Then let’s do it.”

“It’s not that easy.”

I frown at her. Is she being purposely difficult or what? “Why not?”

“Because Eric is a control freak and he’ll only want to use what he’s made,” Gwen points out, making her words sound logical but…

“He can go ahead and use his stuff and make a bunch of boring bro videos set to AC/DC songs. The dads and alumni will love it.” I send her a look, noting the curiosity in her gaze. “I’m down to put together whatever you want to do, Gwen. We can do this.”

“You want to help me? Really?” She sounds skeptical.

“Yes,” I emphasize. “Let’s go talk to them.”

We both jump to our feet and I start walking, but she grabs my arm, stopping me.

“We probably shouldn’t interrupt their practice.” Gwen nibbles on her lower lip, her gaze going to the team.

I do the same, watching them for a second, how they’re all clustered together, their deep, boisterous voices drifting across the grass as they give each other shit. Eric is standing among them with the camera hanging from his neck by a thick black strap, nodding and smiling and looking so happy, he could practically cry.

I bet he was the sort of kid who loved football growing up but either never gave it a try, or never made the team. Or maybe he played when he was a little kid but then all the guys grew taller and bulked up, while he never really did. Perhaps his parents wouldn’t let him play, too worried he would get hurt, which is a valid concern.

It’s obvious though, that this is all he wanted. To be out on the football field, accepted by his teammates. And now he’s living that glory moment in a different way. This is why his content is like this. He wants to be a part of the team, and I get it.

That appeals to the guys.

But Gwen and I are trying to get the ladies on board. That’s what will take these boys further, social media-wise. Having a bunch of women drool over them. And what hot-blooded football player wouldn’t want a bunch of girls going on and on about how sexy they are? From what I’ve seen with this bunch, they’d freaking love it.

I know Ace would especially enjoy it. He has an actual fan club, for the love of God. He would eat that sort of thing up.

“Coach Mattson said we could approach them when they’re having a break. We need to before they start practicing again.” I shake her hold off my arm and march across the field, pasting a pleasant smile on my face.

They all turn toward me as I draw closer, Eric forgotten, and I know the only reason is because I’m a woman, and there aren’t many women out here during practice. I offer up a friendly wave, coming to a stop directly in front of them, shielding my eyes with my hand.

Damn it, I really should’ve worn sunglasses. The sun is so bright out here.

“Hey, guys!” My voice is overly cheerful and when my gaze drifts, I see Derek standing at the back of the crowd, an amused look on his face. “Um, I was hoping I could get a couple of volunteers to make a quick video for social media?”

Gwen approaches, stopping to stand right next to me, but remains silent, glaring at them all.

God, she’s intimidating. She seriously needs to relax.

“What are you looking for?” one of them asks, his voice wary. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him, in pure defensive mode, and I realize he’s a perfect candidate for my planned video.

“I’m looking for someone who looks exactly like you,” I tell him and he appears surprised. Even a little pleased.

“Guess I’ll help you out.” He comes forward, but no one else does, all of them remaining quiet.

I’m struck by how reluctant they all seem. Like they’re terrified to step forward.

Mattson watches all of this go down, his gaze sliding to Ace, giving him a pointed look. Something unspoken passes between them and then Ace is shouldering his way through his teammates, approaching me with that ever-present affable expression on his face.

“I’ll volunteer, Red,” he drawls.

“Red?” Gwen mumbles, sounding confused.

“Don’t ask,” I say out of the side of my mouth, standing up straighter. “Anyone else want to participate?”

A few more players step forward, all of them with bulky, muscular arms, and I nearly want to jump up and down in glee at our choices.

“Okay, guys,” I say, clapping my hands when I’ve got all of them surrounding me and Gwen. She’s got her phone out, ready to record. “I need you take your shirts off.”

All of them glance at each other before they look at me, their wary expressions telling me they’re not too sure about this.

“This feels vaguely inappropriate,” Ace says, and while I can hear the teasing in his voice, I also don’t want these guys to feel like we’re objectifying them.

Even if we sort of—okay, fine, we are totally objectifying them, but it’s all in good fun. We would never make them do something they don’t want to.

“Look, I promise this won’t be sleazy. We don’t want to make gawking videos of your naked torsos,” I tell Ace, my gaze sweeping over all of them. “Our plan is to make an ode to arm candy.”

“Oh my God, I love it,” Gwen murmurs, and I stand a little taller, thrilled to earn her approval.

“Arm candy?” the first guy who volunteered—Evan—says. “What exactly do you mean?”

“We need you to flex and show off your muscles,” Gwen says loudly. “You can manage that for a few minutes, right guys?”

They all grumble, but within seconds, we’ve got six guys with their shirts off and um…

Wow.

We’re surrounded by men who are in top physical condition. Smooth skin, rippling muscles, thick forearms, bulging biceps. Firm pecs, flat stomachs, that naughty little trail leading from their navels and disappearing behind the waistband of their shorts, pants, whatever.

Okay, specifically I’m eyeing Ace’s happy trail and it’s making me feel very, um…

Happy.

Reminding myself I need to keep this professional and stop ogling them, my sensibilities take over and I line them up. Gwen films each guy, zooming in tightly as they hold up their arms and flex. She never films their faces, which causes them all to start protesting. They want to be known, want to show off their grinning faces so the girls know who to scream for, but Gwen shakes her head.

“We need an air of mystery at first. Eventually you’ll be revealed,” she reassures them.

“Maybe you should have them guess who we are in the comments,” Ace suggests and Gwen’s face lights up, glancing over at me.

“That’s a good idea,” she says, and I reluctantly nod.

Ace’s gaze slides to mine and I can tell he’s pleased. It’s his turn to flex and I do my best not to watch while Gwen films him, but I quickly give up and just blatantly stare.

His arms are like works of art. He’s bulky but not too much. Sleek, smooth skin that’s tanned from the sun. Bulging biceps and thick forearms corded with muscle, lightly dusted in golden hair and those damn hands.

My gaze lingers on his hands, and I’m immediately lost in thought. I imagine them touching me. Pushing my hair away from my face, drifting across my cheek. Along my jaw and sliding farther down, curving gently around my throat, tilting my face up for a kiss…

“Okay, next!” Gwen shouts, snapping me out of my reverie and when my gaze finds Ace’s once more, he’s grinning, looking mighty pleased with himself.

Ugh. I turn away, ready to call the next guy to get filmed, but I realize Ace was the last guy.

Mattson blows his whistle. “Back to practice! Now!”

They all jog away, Ace the only one lingering, that smirk still on his face as he watches me. “Can’t wait to see the final result.”

“We’ll be posting tonight,” Gwen tells him, her gaze locked on her phone as she runs through all the videos she just took.

“Thank you,” I tell him, wishing he’d walk away. Wishing he’d continue to linger.

My conflicting feelings are so…conflicting.

“Anytime,” he says, his voice lowering, his gaze never straying from my face and I part my lips, ready to say…

What? Want to hang out? Want to meet at my apartment and make a mess of my bed for a few hours? No.

No.

“Townsend!” Mattson screams and Ace turns away from me without another word, heading back to the center of the field, his T-shirt still clutched in his hand. He stops, slipping it back on, his torso disappearing from view and a sad sigh leaves me.

“I think he likes you.”

I turn to study Gwen, who’s attention is still on her phone.

“No way.”

“Yes way. He has a nickname for you that doesn’t make sense and everything,” she says, like that’s the logical conclusion for why he must like me.

“My name is Ruby. A ruby is red,” I tell her, and she glances up, her brows furrowed.

“Oh yeah. Duh.”

I turn my back to the field, not wanting to look at them anymore.

Or Ace. Instead, Gwen shows me what she got and I go in search of a trending sound, the two of us eventually plopping down onto the grass.

“I want to prove this kind of content will work,” Gwen says at one point, lifting her head to glare at Eric, who is still capturing more of his usual content of the football team. “They’ve been filmed by the male gaze for way too long. We need to change it up.”

“I agree.”

She turns toward me, the surprise on her face obvious. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Why do you think I came up with the arm candy idea?”

Gwen drops her gaze back to her phone, chewing on her lower lip as she edits the video, shaving off a few seconds here and there, trying to get it just right. “It’s a good one.”

“Thanks.”

“We need something different. I keep telling Eric that. Our follower count has grown stagnant, but he’s in denial.” Gwen shakes her head, her gaze returning to Eric.

I see it then. She’s trying to prove something to him because she likes him. And I think it’s in more than a friendly way, but maybe I’m wrong.

I don’t know though. She’s got something to prove when it comes to Eric, and I’m here for it. He’s a nice guy, but I’m starting to realize Gwen’s not so bad either. She just seems to get rubbed wrong by…everyone.

Well, maybe not me.

Fine. I’m sure I rub her wrong. I know I did the first day I showed up to work. She was ready to send me packing and she didn’t even know me.

“I know this sounds silly, but I want to make a difference and leave my stamp on the social media team.” Gwen offers me a weak smile when I glance over at her. “I know we’re not changing the world by showing off shirtless football players but if we can grow our follower count, I’ll feel like I at least contributed something here. Instead of just putting together yet another slow-mo video of the quarterback throwing a football into the air.”

I remember seeing a lot of those videos last season. Blair showed me most of them, ridiculously proud of Cam, and while I can’t deny those videos definitely made them all look great, I’m on Gwen’s side.

“We’re going to shake this up,” I say, my voice firm, my gaze going back out to the field. Ace is doing a little dance, the ball gripped in his hand, his eyes shifting as he tries to find someone to throw the ball to. I can see the moment he spots whoever his target is, his arm rearing back, the cropped T-shirt lifting, my gaze dropping.

Lingering on his abs that shine with the faintest sheen of sweat.

Oh lord help me.

I’m in serious trouble.