Chapter 153
Nora's POV
The restaurant attached to the stadium was nicer than I'd expected. The players were already there, laughing and reliving key plays, their voices echoing off the high ceilings.
Andrew spotted us immediately and waved us over. Up close, he looked even younger than I'd thought—soft around the edges, still obviously growing into himself. His dark hair was wet from the shower, and he'd changed into a hoodie and joggers.
"Hey," he said, standing up. "I'm really sorry about earlier. That was—I should have pulled up sooner."
"It's fine," I said. "Occupational hazard of sitting courtside."
"Still." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely distressed. "I couldn't just let you leave without saying something. Team rules say I can't take you out to dinner alone or anything. Compliance issues. But I figured this was the next best thing."
I couldn't help but smile. He was sweet. Earnest in a way that reminded me of Benjamin when I'd first met him.
"Well, I appreciate it. And for the record, that save was incredible. I got some great shots."
His face lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
We ended up sitting together, with Benjamin on my other side. Andrew asked about my work, and his eyes widened when I mentioned news reporting.
"My dad loves the news," he said. "He listens to your NPR station every morning. All those investigative reports. He'll freak when I tell him I met you."
"Your dad has good taste."
Andrew grinned, his dimples deepening. He was easy to talk to—surprisingly mature for twenty, with none of the ego I'd expected from a rising sports star. He asked thoughtful questions, listened carefully to my answers, and had a self-deprecating sense of humor that made the whole table laugh.
Before we left, the team's PR manager gathered everyone for photos. Benjamin and Andrew took one, then pulled me in for a group shot—me, Benjamin, and Andrew, all smiling at the camera. The PR manager also gave everyone a signed team photo, all the players' signatures crammed across the bottom.
"Keep in touch," Andrew said as we were leaving, pulling out his phone. "I'm on Instagram. You guys should add me."
I hesitated, then opened the app and typed in his handle. His profile popped up—22K followers, mostly action shots and motivational quotes. I hit "follow," and he immediately followed me back, along with Benjamin.
"Thanks for dinner," I said. "Good luck with the rest of your season."
"Thanks." He waved as we headed toward the exit. "See you around, Nora."
---
Outside, the night air was crisp and cool. I pulled my jacket tighter, shivering slightly.
A familiar car was parked at the curb—Lucas.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, climbing into the passenger seat.
Lucas shrugged. "Julian asked me to keep an eye on you while he's out of town. You weren't answering your phone, so I figured I'd swing by."
I pulled out my phone and saw Julian's texts.
Julian: How's the game coverage going?
Julian: Lucas says you're not picking up. Everything okay?
A pang of guilt hit me. I'd silenced my phone during the game and forgotten to turn the ringer back on.
"Sorry," I muttered, typing out a quick response. "Lost track of time."
Lucas glanced at me as he drove. "Busy day?"
"You could say that."
He didn't press, and I was grateful. We drove in comfortable silence, the city lights blurring past the windows.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was an Instagram notification.
@SportsGossip tagged you in a post.
I frowned and opened the app.
The post had two photos. The first was Andrew flying toward me, our eyes meeting mid-air—only the angle made it look less like panic and more like... something else. Intense. Intimate.
The second photo was worse. Andrew's body draped over the railing, his face inches from mine, one arm extended like he was reaching for me. The caption read:
"Star player saves the game AND wins a beauty's heart? 22-year-old rising star Andrew Anderson's highlight reel just got a lot more interesting. 👀"
I stared at the screen, a mix of annoyance and disbelief churning in my stomach.
"What's wrong?" Lucas asked.
"Nothing." I locked my phone and shoved it in my pocket. "Just... tabloid bullshit."
But even as I said it, I could feel a headache starting to form at the base of my skull.
This was going to be a problem.
---
By the time Lucas dropped me off at home, the post had been shared to sports forums and retweeted dozens of times across social media. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing—tags, comments, people I didn't know asking if I was "Andrew's mystery girl."
I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Benjamin.
Benjamin: Dude. Have you seen Twitter? We're trending.
Benjamin: Not in a good way.
I didn't bother responding. Instead, I opened Instagram and scrolled through the comments under the original post.
"She looks way older than him."
"Probably trying to use him for clout."
"Gold digger alert 🚨"
"She works for NPR? Yeah right. More like she's fishing for an exclusive interview... and maybe more 😏"
I clenched my jaw. I took screenshots of the post and the worst comments, saving them to a folder. If this escalated, I'd need evidence. NPR had a legal team for this kind of thing—defamation, harassment, whatever.
But for now, it was just noise. Annoying, invasive noise, but nothing I couldn't handle.
I opened my messages and found my conversation with Julian.
Julian: Just landed. Meetings ran late, but I should be free around 10. Call me?
I glanced at the clock. 9:47 PM.
My finger hovered over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to tell him everything—the accident, the photos, the creeping anxiety that this stupid story might somehow balloon into something bigger. But another part of me, the stubborn part, didn't want to burden him with more stress when he was a thousand miles away dealing with his own work.
Besides, what could he do from Aetheria? Tell me it would be fine? Send Ethan to threaten some gossip blogger?
No. I could handle this myself.
I started typing.
Me: How's your thing going?
The response came almost immediately.
Julian: Long. Boring. Would be better if you were here.
Julian: You sure everything's okay? Lucas said you seemed distracted.
I bit my lip. Of course Lucas had reported back to him.
Me: Yeah, just tired. Took a tumble during the game.
Julian: What kind of tumble? Are you hurt?
Me: Nothing serious. Just a bruise.
Julian: Because of that Andrew kid?
My stomach dropped.
Of course he'd seen it. Of course.