I don’t reply, determined to keep my face neutral. I don’t have the same clout here I did at Lincoln yet, and I can’t afford to give any of my new teammates the slightest indication of my true feelings regarding this topic.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you guys as regular readers of…” I squint at the phone screen. “Star Sightings Today?”

Cooley laughs. “One of my younger brothers sent me the link. He’s got a massive crush on Princess Vivienne and can’t believe she’s off the market now.” He rolls his eyes. “Kid almost went to Lincoln, and he’s convinced if he had been there last year they would have been soul mates.”

Not fucking likely is my first thought, but I keep it to myself.

The conversation moves on from Viv to other subjects. I leave as soon as I can to head to the buffet, feeling like I was just sucker-punched in the stomach. It’s harder to forget someone when their existence is constantly shoved in your face.

I spend the rest of the evening being pulled from one group to another, making small talk with teammates and meeting their families. Our crusty head coach looks uncomfortable in the domestic atmosphere, which I can relate to. Few of my teammates at Lincoln even had girlfriends, let alone wives and children, the way many of my new teammates do.

The backyard gathering finally begins to die down, but as soon as I try to head out, I’m drawn into a group eager to continue the evening. I’m tempted to beg off, but the realization I have nothing waiting for me besides an empty house results in me agreeing to join the group traveling to the most exclusive club downtown.

Even after all the attention I received at Lincoln, it’s still strange to arrive someplace and have everyone stop and stare. I know the scrutiny is partially due to the fact I’m with several of my teammates, but there’s no doubt my name is the one being screamed the most as we exit the car and walk along the cordoned off carpet inside the dimly lit club. As soon as we enter the main area, we’re surrounded, mostly by scantily clad women. They’re all gorgeous, but I barely spare them a glance.

Instead, I push through the crowd to the closed off VIP section and make a beeline for the private bar. I order a drink and lean against the sleek metal counter to watch the bartender make it.

“You’re Jace Dawson, aren’t you?” A statuesque blonde wearing a tight red dress has joined me at the bar.

“Yup,” I reply briskly, then turn back to watch the bartender pour a stream of amber liquid over one perfectly square cube of ice. He slides the tumbler in front of me, and I give him a brief smile of thanks before handing him a bill that includes a hefty tip.

“I grew up here, and I’ve never seen people this excited for the start of the football season. They were giving away tickets for the pre-season games last summer, but my roommates and I paid a hundred bucks apiece for the game next week. I’ve heard you’re an incredible athlete.” Her final sentence drips with unveiled innuendo. “That final throw in Lincoln’s championship game? Truly incredible.”