“Nothing much,” he responds as if we weren’t just on television.
“Congrats on the award. Well deserved. I know our quarterback hates playing you guys.”
“Thanks, man.” He gestures toward me. “Have you met my girlfriend Nash?”
“Can’t say that I have.” He holds a tatted hand out to me. “Adam…nice to meet you.”
I take his hand. “Likewise, Adam.”
Another guy comes up to us and greets Wyatt, pulling him away from our conversation.
“You play volleyball?”
“I do. Wyatt and I met in college when I played at U.W.”
“And what are you up to now?” I don’t know if he meant for this to come off weird, like Icouldn’tstill be playing, but it rubs me the wrong way.
“Still playing volleyball.” I nod slowly, likewhat a weird question. Did this guy not pay a lick of attention to Wyatt’s speech less than a half hour ago where he specifically mentioned that I play volleyball?
“Oh,” he looks genuinely shocked to hear this. “That’s great. I didn’t realize that women still played once they finished college.”
Wyatt is finished with his conversation with the other guy and then returns to our conversation, thankfully. “What’s up?”
This guy and Wyatt are obviously friends, and I don’t want him to get stuck with his foot in his mouth, so despite my initial ick, I decide not to say anything to Wyatt. “We were just talking about the new women’s volleyball league.”
Wyatt’s eyes light up. “Isn’t it so cool?” This question is directed at Adam, but it’s apparently rhetorical as Wyattcontinues, “After all this time, finally, ladies can play stateside.”
Adam recovers quickly. “That’s so great. Can’t wait to see it on TV.”
“It’s only streaming live on YouTube right now, but…” Wyatt crosses his fingers, “hopefully in the future they will be on cable.”
“I’ll tune in for sure!” He points to the near-empty drink in his hand. “I’m going to grab another. You guys good?”
We both nod and Adam walks off throwing a “great to see you” over his shoulder as he goes.
I don’t think Adam is an asshole, I think he was just uninformed on the goings on of professional volleyball. Hell, maybeanywomen’s sport? If I’m going to take it upon myself to make sure this league is a success, then I guess it’s my job to inform men like Adam? He lives a life where the whole world is obsessed with his sport. He can sneeze and hit a football fan anywhere he goes. It’s been this way long before he was even born. So I have a chance to make volleyball the same.
“What’s the plan now?”
“Did we check all the necessary boxes?” Get the award, make the speech, shake hands, hit the passed appetizers, perfect photobooth shoot… I think so.
“Yup.” Thank God.
“Are you hungry?”
“Of course.” He holds his hand out to me. “Let’s get out of here.”
As Wyatt leads me through the thinning crowd toward the valet stand, I take in the last of the glitz and the glamour around us. My feet are throbbing from these heels, and my hair hurts from being pinned. As fun as it was to get all dressed up tonight, I think I like Wyatt better at home on thecouch in his usual athletic clothes. He looks edible in his tailored tux, but I know it’s not him. The confidence he carries himself with here is practiced; whereas, at home, it comes more naturally to him.
Then it hits me. We’re not going back to our home tonight.
We’re going back to a hotel room with only one bed.
Chapter Nineteen
WYATT
“You’d better tip him big,” Nash says as we get out of the car.