Male grumbles rumbled down the sideline.
"There will be serious repercussions if anything is leaked. And trust me, we can-and will-track down the perpetrator. We have rules for a reason, rules we expect everyone to follow."
For the briefest moment, I wondered if he'd shown up and called the team and the cheer squad together to remind us of the no-fraternization rule. My gaze immediately shot to Jensen, who appeared to be studying his cleats.
Don't be paranoid. Clearly with the way Mr. Big Shot is addressing the players, it's about other rule violations you aren't aware of.
Then Mr. Corporate went all Rah! Rah! Team! as if we needed a pep talk.
Daisy exhaled a soft snoring noise, and it was hard not to laugh.
Coach T interrupted the speaker's monologue, using the megaphone. "Respectfully, Brian, as none of the breach of protocol seems to be directed at my athletes, I'm excusing them from the remainder of this discussion."
Brian seemed taken aback by Coach's boldness. Evidently he didn't know her very well. "Of course. And as I've hit the major talking points, I'll turn it back over to the coaches."
The big, burly coach yelled, "Everyone is dismissed."
Thank god.
Access to the players' locker rooms was on our side of the field, and as soon as they were released, they started in our direction at a dead run.
Since Daisy and I were the first in line to the tunnel-we'd been the last ones out-we waited to let them pass. But not all of them did.
Hugo, the backup center, nearly plowed us over.
Daisy mumbled about him being a big, dumb ox.
Jensen, near the front of the line of players, smiled when he saw me. Then he jogged over.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. What are you doing?
"Hey, Rowan, do you have a minute?"
I felt every pair of eyes zoom in on us. With surprise, curiosity and a few burning looks of hostility.
What the hell was wrong with him? We'd just suffered through a fifteen-minute lecture on the importance of rules, and he'd decided to ignore that and blatantly break them? In front of my coach as well as his?
He can ignore it because the rules don't apply to him.
When he got close enough that only he and Daisy could overhear me, I said, "What are you doing?"
"Talking to you."
"Don't."
Jensen froze. "What's wrong?"
"We are not supposed to interact according to-"
"That's a bullshit rule and you know it."
"But it is a rule. Everyone is staring at us."
He glared at anyone who met his gaze before he directed it back to me. "So?"
"So trot your smarmy little rule-breaking self to the locker room."
Instead of backing away, Mr. Contrary moved closer. "What has gotten into you?"
"Stop it, Lund. I'm not kidding."
"You're serious about me not even talking to you?"
"Yes. Just go."
"Like hell."
Frustrated, I turned and walked away.
A scuffle broke out behind me as Daisy tried to stop him. But much bigger men in the NFL had tried to stop him without success. The next thing I knew, The Rocket had landed in front of me.
"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?" he demanded.
"I'm pissed off that you don't understand I can't be seen with you."
That sent him back a step.
"You don't give a damn that you are creating issues for me by insisting that we talk right here in front of everyone. We can't. Go back to pretending you don't know who I am, especially when we're here."
I sidestepped him and this time he didn't follow.
Daisy literally had my back until we got into the locker room. Then she said, "I don't see you for three weeks and suddenly now you're chummy with The Rocket?"
Chummy. Who even used that word anymore?
"I expect to be filled in over ice cream . . . unless the story is so hot that it'll melt the cone right out of your hand?"
I rolled my eyes. "Not. Even. Close."
Since several of the girls were new, the locker room was more subdued than usual. I appreciated the silence while I could because when the season officially started, it'd be a zoo. After I washed my face and neck and redid my ponytail, I fired off a quick text to Talia to check on Calder, and she immediately responded that everything was fine.
Daisy sauntered toward me, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, looking as if she'd just stepped out of a salon. She'd skipped the high heels in favor of flip-flops, but her body still swayed as if she'd stepped onto a runway. It'd be easy to be jealous, but after years in the world of dance and competitive cheer, I accepted that some women were born with the ability to look fantastic with little to no effort.