False Start [#1]

O 1

C H A P T E R  O 1
shit together? you're joking, right?

Three months later

I step into the Giants HQ building, smiling and waving to the guards and receptionist on my way past.

A coffee and a breakfast bagel in one hand, my keys and access badge in the other. I flash at the turnstiles, sliding past, and in through the open elevator doors, quickly pressing my floor.

Since the night in my living room, where I prayed damn hard, and got nothing but a headache in return, I decided to be a mature woman, and play nice when the devil comes back to town.

Or as nice as a petty bitch like me can be.

In the three months since, I've called the girls for endless pep talks as soon as I dread going into the office, made it my personal mission to always dress like I've got my shit together, and used the twelve weeks to drink the overthinking away.

I mean, it doesn't completely stop it, but it sure as shit helps.

Kids, don't use alcohol as a coping mechanism.

Reaching my floor, I navigate my way through the hustle and bustle of the media floor, and escape in to my office, shutting the door behind me, and dropping my shit on the desk.

"I hope there's a bagel in there for me too."

A gasp flies from my mouth, my hand slapping over my heart when I spin back to the deep voice behind me. The panic soon settles when I spot Lane Wilder, the Giants' star wide receiver, slouching his large ass on my black leather, custom made, office sofa.

"You fucking idiot, you scared the shit outta me."

I glare at him, making the overgrown moron chuckle.

"Sorry, princess," He grins. "How was I supposed to know you couldn't see me? I'm not exactly small, girl."

"Didn't exactly have my glasses on, boy." I grunt, dropping into my desk chair. "So, now you're... eating my breakfast, what else can I help you with?"

With a mouthful of my delicious cream cheese and onion bagel, Lane tips his head towards my coffee and says, "That a peppermint latte?"

Rolling my eyes, I throw my arms out. "Have at it. Christ, you're like a bottomless trash can."

Swallowing, he wiggles his brows over the rim of my to-go coffee cup. "Growing man, Mals, gotta feed the beast if you want championship wins to make TikTok video's about."

Sneering, I lunge forward, ready to pounce. Lane instantly backs up, his black eyes flare wide with terror.

"Kidding, kidding," He quickly tries to defend, holding his hands out. "Jeez, someone woke up on the side of violence today."