Chapter 129: The Meet And Greet

I picked up my phone, unlocked it, and pulled up the main team fan page before turning the screen toward him.

"Someone took photos of us. At the cafe, at the boutique, and even at the supermarket while we were passing Russo and Miller. It’s all over social media. People are analyzing how close we’re standing. They’re calling it enemies-to-lovers."

​Reid lowered the knife completely, his eyes scanning the glowing screen. I watched his face closely, expecting a flash of panic, or at least a hint of worry about the front office, but the sly bastard just let out a low, thoroughly amused hum.

"We look great in those pics," he commented and my mouth fell open in disbelief.

He sees our scandal and that’s all he has to say?

​He reached out, his large, garlic-scented hand catching the back of my neck and pulling me a fraction closer, his thumb brushing against the base of my jaw.

​"Anyway, let them talk," he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, lazy register that always made my defenses crumble. "It’s all they ever do anyway. At the end of the day, we’re teammates, Cap. Teammates buy coffee. Teammates grocery shop. There’s nothing in those photos that gives us away. Look at Miller and Russo for example. They were out too, and they were all touchy."

Yeah, except those two have been buddies from the start. We’re the odd ones.

​"You don’t get it," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs as I looked up into his calm, steady gaze. "They’re looking at how I look at you. If someone looks closely, the whole thing falls apart. The meet-and-greet is tomorrow, Reid. We’re sitting right next to each other."

​Reid’s thumb stroked the sensitive skin under my ear, a slow, deliberate movement meant to ground me. The smug smirk finally faded from his lips, replaced by a quiet, fierce intensity.

​"Then let them look," he said softly, his eyes locking onto mine with total, unyielding certainty. "Tomorrow, we play the part. We give them exactly what the front office wants—just enough chemistry to keep them guessing, but not enough to give them proof. I’ve got your back, Kain. I’m not letting anyone ruin this for us." He leaned in even closer. "I’m not letting anyone find out your secret," he whispered and I pursed my lips.

"Reid," I called and was about to speak. Let’s not sleep together tonight. I need to get your pheromones off me before tomorrow. But the words wouldn’t come out.

They were stubborn, stuck in my mouth, because I knew I didn’t want that. I knew I wanted to have his arms wrapped around me and I wanted to be enveloped in his pheromones.

"Yeah, Cap?" Reid answered, waiting for my words but I just threw my face aside.

"Nevermind," I muttered. "Just focus on the food."

Reid let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating warm against the back of my neck before he finally released his grip on my jaw.

He turned back to the cutting board, picking up the knife and squinting at the tablet screen as the video chef moved on to the next step.

​I leaned back against the counter, watching him struggle to chop the rest of the vegetables. My chest still felt tight from the panic of the photos, but looking at his broad back, the sheer size of him hunched over a tiny cutting board, the anxiety slowly morphed into a quiet, heavy ache.

I was a hypocrite. I was terrified of getting caught, yet the mere thought of sleeping in separate beds tonight made my stomach twist.

I got up from my chair and walked up to him, dropping my forehead against his back.

"Cap?"

"Just... Let me stay like this for a second," I whispered. "Your back seems to shield me away from a lot of things."

Reid did not try to ask what was going on in my head or turn around. He just kept at what he was doing and I closed my eyes, feeling every muscle of his back move as he continued preparing the food, like I wasn’t even there.

​Against all logic, the dinner actually turned out edible. It was a slightly charred chicken stir-fry that lacked enough salt, but I ate every bite anyway, too exhausted to complain.

Reid looked incredibly proud of himself, eating his portion with a smug satisfaction that almost made me smile.

​By the time we went to bed, the dark room felt like a sanctuary away from the flashing cameras and the hyperactive internet forums.

I didn’t push him away when he climbed in next to me. Instead, when his large arm slid over my waist and pulled me flush against his chest, I let myself sink into his embrace.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, right over the edge of the patch, and breathed in deeply. The heavy, comforting waves of frozen pine washed over me, completely blanketing my skin. I closed my eyes and let it happen, giving in to the momentum.

​Wednesday morning arrived entirely too fast.

​The convention center was in absolute chaos by the time we arrived. The air in the massive backstage hall was thick with the scent of hundreds of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, all blending into a dizzying cloud of pheromones.

Security guards walked the perimeter, and the distant, muffled roar of thousands of waiting fans echoed through the concrete walls.

​"Alright, listen up!" Marcus barked, clapping his hands together as he walked down the line of players in the green room.

We were all dressed in the official team blue polos and dark trousers. You see, I didn’t even have to fuss about what to wear.

"The doors open in five minutes. Fans are hyper-focused today because of the recent social media buzz." Marcus stated, his eyes rolling towards Reid and I, which made me subtly conscious. "Smile, sign the jerseys, and keep the line moving. Evans, McCoy, remember what we discussed."

​I smoothed down the front of my polo, checking the high collar in a nearby mirror to ensure the fresh patch was completely invisible. I looked fine. I looked like a strict, professional captain.

​We walked out into the main hall, the bright stadium lights immediately hitting my eyes as the crowd let out a deafening cheer. The flashlights from a dozen media cameras blinked rapidly against the barrier.

​I marched over to our assigned section and took my seat behind the long, draped signing table. To my right, Gerald slid into his chair, immediately uncapping his sharpie and waving to a group of fans in the front row.

​And to my left, the heavy, grounding presence of Reid materialized.

​He pulled back his chair and sat down, his broad shoulders instantly cutting off half the space on my left side.

The movement sent a subtle, fresh wave of frozen pine straight toward me. His scent was so dense from the night before that it felt like an invisible mark wrapped around my shoulders.

​Before the first fan could reach the table, Reid leaned back in his chair, capping his pen with a distinct click. He turned his head, his grey eyes locking onto mine with a lazy, wicked glint that was entirely meant to provoke me.

​"Morning, Cap," Reid murmured, his voice dropping into that private, gravelly register that didn’t travel past the space between our chairs. "Ready to give the fans their money’s worth?"

The fan in front of us saw this and she literally blushed.

This guy, he was already starting before the signs even dropped.