Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I finish all the water and Gatorade before I get up to lock the door, totally chiding myself for my lack of courage. That was my shot at some no-strings fun with Nash Stokehill and I blew it. But, to be fair, I didn’t want to spend the night with him when I likely wouldn’t remember it tomorrow.
The room is spinning too much to lay down, so I pull out my phone and rifle through tonight’s footage. I actually scored some great content, and Nash looks way too heroic hauling me out of The Queen’s Rum not to post. I mean, all our followers will think he’s a knight in shining armor, and it’s the least I can do for him after he took such good care of me.
I make a few edits and pair it with a fun background sound and hit post, the action helping relax my body enough to sleep.
I hate everything.
Alcohol is the absolute worst.
It's the only thing I can think as I force myself to roll out of bed despite every single one of my muscles feeling like they were run through the garbage disposal.
My head is pounding, and my stomach feels wobbly as I hurry to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
I take a little extra time going through my normal morning routine, hating that my alarm woke me for a very real work day. I do my best to cover the circles under my eyes, little moments of the night before flashing to the forefront of my mind.
Having way too much fun with my girlfriends.
Nash's lips on mine, his hands on my hips.
Him carrying me out of the bar, bringing my drunk ass home, and ensuring I drank Gatorade before bed.
The last memory makes me laugh, and I shake my head, doing my best not to be swallowed by a well of mortification. At least I didn’t beg him to stay, and with the state I was in, I’m kind of surprised I didn't.
I'm just finishing getting dressed when the memory of posting a video comes crashing back to me like an anvil dropping on my head.
Fuck.
I race back to my bedroom, diving on my bed for my phone and unlocking my screen, clicking on the Badgers social account that I happen to run.
“Ohmigod,” I say aloud as I notice my notifications are maxed out. “Oh, Jesus, what did I do?”
Panic streaks through me as I rush to the latest posted video, my hungover-addled brain barely providing enough information for me to remember properly. I click the video, my heart in my throat.
It's me.
Holy shit, it's not just me, but also Nash throwing me over his shoulder and calling me his girl as he looks charming as hell carrying me out.
I blow out a breath, relief washing through me that I hadn't posted something more embarrassing, or something that would be detrimental to the team’s reputation.
And then I go to the comments.
There are thousands of comments.
My brain throbs as I skim through most of them, shock rattling through me at the interest in the once notorious bachelor of the Bangor Badgers having called someone—me—his girl.
Viewers are eating it up, most of the comments asking who I am as much as they’re rooting for me.
Of course there are always the negative comments, but I scroll right past those and focus on the theme of the video. The interaction is off the charts, not to mention the views—well over six million in just a few hours.
I close out of the app, sitting on my bed and staring at my locked screen in shock. It's been my dream since being hired by the Bangor Badgers to have a video go viral, to create a fun interactive account that gives a behind-the-scenes look at our NHL players in the hopes that the team will get the recognition they deserve…
But this?
I never intended to put myself in the spotlight, let alone have a video I posted after a wild night go viral.
But the followers loved it. We’d gained fifty thousand overnight. And if statistics told me anything, those new followers were there for one thing and one thing only, and that was their newly piqued interest in Nash Stokehill’s romantic life.
I know better than anyone that the more followers and the more views you have, the more power you have to make endorsement deals for individual players. That’s been a huge goal of mine since being hired. The more followers and views we gain, the more leverage I’ll have with getting our players the deals and recognition they deserve.
If I want to keep this new audience, then I’ll have to keep feeding them the content they want.
And it looks like that content is me and Nash.
Shit, shit, shit.
I scoop up my phone again and click into the group chat with my girls.