Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Harlow laughs, though, so I consider that a win. “I’m not afraid to put in the work.”
“Could have fooled me. It sounds like you’re using my job as an excuse not to see me anymore.”
“No,” she counters. “I’m simply pointing out the fact that yesterday my life was boring, and today it’s upside down.”
I scoff at that, trying to hear her but finding it difficult to see her point of view.
I’m a guy who wants love and a family too. Who cares if I play football and am on television every so often? Does that make me less lovable?
“I’ll have you know, the entire United States thinks I’m quite a catch. I was named one of People’s most eligible bachelors last year.”
She stares at me so hard and long that my dick shrivels a bit.
“Wrong thing to say?”
Harlow nods.
I cringe. “Sorry. I just don’t understand how any of this is a bad thing.”
Her nostrils flare. “Do you think it’s a benefit to date a man who women are constantly chasing because he was named one of People’s most eligible bachelors last year? How many women slide into your direct messages?”
“I don’t know—I’m not on social media.”
Her eyes get wide, and she laughs. “You are so full of shit.”
I flail my arms. “I have social media, but I personally am not on it. I have a social media manager who handles all that shit for me. If people slide into my messages—and I’m sure they do—I wouldn’t know about it.”
Her shoulders relax. “Oh.”
“The last thing I give one fuck about is the internet.” Jesus, seriously.
Zero fucks given.
“I’m not a twenty-year-old idiot scamming on chicks online. And I’m not a twenty-nine-year-old dude scamming on chicks either. I was raised in the Midwest, and my mother raised me right.” I let out a frustrated puff of air. “I have a job to do, and social media is part of it. I cannot help that.” Feeling my brow furrowing again, I try to school my expression so it’s passive. “The same way I have to do commercials. Or interviews in the locker room after a game we just lost—which sucks.” Which begs the question. “Do you honestly think we want to talk to the press after getting our asses handed to us? No. Do I have to? Yes.”
“Why do you have to? Can’t you just say no?”
Most people simply do not get it, but I’m happy to explain it.
“No. I cannot say no. It’s part of my contract.”
“Interviews are in your contract?”
“Yes.” I’m enjoying explaining this. “That’s why I have to stand there dripping in sweat with my dick in my hand, telling some reporter all the ways we could have played better.” My eyes roll. “It’s so much fun.”
Those reporters ask the dumbest fucking questions.
After a game, I want to shower and change in the locker room, so I can get the fuck out of the stadium. But instead, we’re obligated to do interviews, attend team meetings, and occasionally meet in the pressroom for press conferences.
Tired, beat down, hungry, injured.
We play in rain, snow, and freezing-cold temperatures.
Heat.
Regardless of how we feel, we do it, or face the consequences.
“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Most people don’t think about it. They expect it.”
As well they should. We get paid a fuckton of money—football is entertainment as much as it is an athletic sport, and the franchise makes billions of dollars.
“Are those the only things bothering you? The distance and the fact I have a fan club?”
“You have a fan club?” She sounds appalled.
“Not literally.” Or maybe I do, who knows. There are fanatics everywhere, and I don’t doubt at least one person out there has started a Landon Burke fan club.
“I never thought I would have a long-distance relationship.”
“Had you considered that you might meet someone while you were trotting around New York taking meetings?”
She nods. “Sure, I considered it. But I didn’t actually want to date a man from there. Too far.”
“I’m willing to travel if you’re willing to put up with my shit. You can work remotely, and I’ll spend as much time with you as I can. During the season it won’t be easy, but we can make it work.”
“What about all the other stuff?” she asks hesitantly, giving her head a little shake.
“Does the paparazzi bother you?” She needs to be clearer so I can follow along, now that I’m aware of the multitude of things in the back of her mind. “There really are none here. Green Bay is so low key and in the middle of nowhere, it’s fucking awesome.”
I love it.
“No, the other stuff.” Harlow pauses. “The Paisley stuff.”
Ah.
Right.
I brace myself, ready for whatever curveballs she wants to throw at me.
Chapter 28
Harlow
Freaking A, Harlow! You told yourself not ten minutes ago that you were not going to bring up his ex-girlfriend! You looked in the mirror and said the words out loud!