Between the Lines

Deets and Greets

**Brianna**

I slouched on my couch, scrolling through my phone with a cup of lukewarm coffee resting on the table beside me. The remnants of last night's work were scattered across the living room—crumpled notes, half-filled notepads, and my laptop, still open to the last article I'd written. But my focus was far from that right now.

I opened the sports app and typed in "Alex Cooperfield." His profile popped up instantly, complete with a smug-looking headshot that matched the man's reputation. Alex Cooperfield, age 25. Six foot two, brown hair, green eyes, smile to die for. The guy was basically a walking, talking magazine cover. No wonder the tabloids loved him.

His stats weren't anything to scoff at either—top goal scorer for the last three seasons, named Player of the Year twice, and considered one of the most valuable players in the league. But all of that was overshadowed by the endless stream of headlines that accompanied his name. I scrolled through his dating timeline—models, actresses, influencers, all of them stunning, all of them temporary. It was like watching a carousel of beautiful faces, none of them sticking around for more than a few months.

The latest girl was some brunette bombshell—Clara or Clarissa, something like that. They'd been spotted at a club together a couple of nights ago, looking cozy. She wouldn't last long, though. None of them did. I wondered if Alex even remembered their names after a week.

I bit my lip, scrolling further down, past the dating drama and the party shots, to his recent game stats. Despite the chaos off the field, the guy was a machine when it came to football. His last match had been a win—two goals and an assist. Even hungover, he was still killing it. But I couldn't help but wonder how long he could keep up that balancing act.

As I was lost in my thoughts, my phone buzzed, and Liv's name flashed on the screen. I swiped to answer, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I kept scrolling.

"Hey, Liv," I said, half-distracted.

"What are you up to?" Liv's voice was bright, but I could hear the underlying concern. She always seemed to worry about me, even when I insisted I was fine.

"Just doing some research," I replied, not wanting to admit I was stalking Alex's profile like some obsessed fan. "Checking out this Alex Cooperfield guy."

"The footballer?" Liv sounded surprised. "Why are you looking him up?"

"Brogan mentioned him," I said casually, even though I could feel my cheeks warming. "I figured I should know a bit more about him, considering he's one of the top players in the league. You know, for work."

"Uh-huh," Liv said, her tone skeptical. "And what do you think?"

"Honestly? He's got talent, no doubt about that. But the guy's a mess off the field. His dating history alone reads like a soap opera." I sighed, closing the app and tossing my phone onto the couch. "I don't get how someone can be that good at what they do and still screw up so much in their personal life."

"It's probably all an act," Liv suggested. "Guys like him put on a show for the press, but who knows what he's really like? Maybe he's just trying to keep them off his back."

"Maybe," I murmured, but I wasn't convinced. There was something about Alex that seemed too deliberate, like he wanted people to focus on the playboy image rather than anything else.

I was about to say something more when a knock at the door interrupted me. I frowned, glancing at the time. It was the middle of the afternoon, and I wasn't expecting anyone.

"Hang on, Liv. Someone's at the door."

"Alright, call me back later," Liv said, hanging up.

I padded over to the door and peered through the peephole. My stomach flipped when I saw who it was. Elena. Of course, it was Elena.