Tackling Love's Playbook

Chapter 3

Rhys’s POV

I liked to think that I’d have been bold enough to make a move on the woman I was madly in love with someday. But my track record of cowardice wasn’t exactly encouraging.

I can’t remember a time when I hadn’t been dazzled by Francesca Law. Six year old Frankie with her hair in pigtails and all her incisors missing had been seven year old Rhys’ dream come true.

Twenty-eight-year-old Frankie had my heart and my soul.

After years of searching for the best way to tell not just how I felt but show her how good we could be together, the perfect opportunity had landed in my laps, gift wrapped and topped with a bow. I was as giddy as a child that had just stepped foot in Disneyland for the very first time.

My publicist had really called me this morning to ask if the rumors were true, to which I had readily said yes. The team was an entirely different issue. They wouldn’t even buy the bullshit, so I didn't bother selling it to them.

“This is going to end badly.” Warren had shook his head during my video call with the members of the team I was close to. I was closest to Warren, but the space of my best friend was completely occupied by a super smart, beautiful, bespectacled red head who didn’t even recognize her own worth and appeal. When she looked at herself, she saw a clumsy nerd who nobody could ever be crazy about, but when I looked at her. I saw the most beguiling woman.

She had hair the color of fire, long and thick and untamable.

Behind her glass frame were a set of emerald green eyes tipped with long, dark, sooty lashes. Underneath the ill-fitting clothes she liked to wear was a body I had fantasized about a million times, with an expanse of milky, freckled skin. Frankie was a goddess, and she didn’t even know it.

“At least something’s starting.” Sharpe grinned.

“Him going on and on about Frankie this and Frankie that with heart eyes was beginning to get old and boring really fast.”

“I hate to admit it, but I agree with Sharpe.” Lars said.

“You see.” Sharpe said smugly.

“Can I just say that this is a really bad idea?” Warren said.

“Yeah, you can, but nobody cares about your opinion,” Sharpe replied.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. My plan had been to just rope them into the idea of playing nice when they finally met Frankie on Saturday night. I felt a lump in my chest for lying to the one person I wasn’t supposed to lie to. Telling her that she had to be at the team event and play the role of a couple in love had been my greed rearing its ugly head. It wasn’t enough that we had to act like we were together for her boss’ wedding. It was way too far, and she had described it as three hours of my time.

Three hours sounded like three seconds to a man who had been desperate to get his hands on her for over a decade. I was going to milk this singular, strange opportunity for all it was worth.

“You have to get this whole drama done and settled before the season starts. This is the kind of s**t that can distract you into playing like you’ve got a lead foot and being disqualified in the preliminaries.” Lars warned.

“Chill, bro. You sound like a coach.” Sharpe said.

“Are you seriously going to act like you’ve forgotten about three years ago when Frankie was going out with that florist?” Lars pointed out.

“I know it wasn’t just me that was there when they came to our game at Philly and Rhys couldn’t keep possession of the ball for more than a second.” I winced at his quite accurate description of events. I wasn’t proud to admit how distracted I had been by Frankie’s relationship with that damned florist.

Frankie wasn’t big on relationships. She was a romantic, but she was also cynical, too sarcastic for her own good, too awkward and repulsed by any emotion that felt remotely serious. I didn’t understand why she was so skittish about love. She had parents who were disgustingly in love and as far as I knew, she had never gotten her heart wrecked. So it was really a mystery why she shied away from love.

I suspected that Frankie was used to hiding herself and wanted to keep it that way. She wanted to be safe behind all the walls she had put up and the image of an unassuming woman. I hated it her. I hated when she tried to compress herself into a tiny box for the sake of fitting in or being accepted as non-threatening. I kinda put the blame at the feet of the toxic environment she had to work in.

“Are you even listening, man?” Sharpe’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. I blinked at my laptop screen where three pairs of eyes were staring at me curiously.

“Yes, I know that this is a bad idea. Thank you Warren, for that brilliant deduction. I’m not going to let this distract me from the game… much.” I grinned.

“That look in your eyes tells me that we can as well start taking instructions from your co-captain.” Sharpe narrowed his eyes at me from the laptop screen. Warren made a sound of disgust. Lars just shook his head in resignation.

“Good luck, man. Since nothing I can say is going to dissuade you,” Warren chuckled.

“But I reserve the right to say I told you so when all of this goes south.”

“Can you be a little less of a pessimist?” Sharpe rolled his eyes.

“I think Rhys and Frankie would make cute babies.”

“Yeah, no, I’m done with this conversation.” Lars clicked off.

Sharpe burst into hysterical laughter. Warren shot me a look and clicked off too.

“Have some fun, get laid at least and then get ready to kick ass this season.” Sharpe winked before logging off too. I shut my laptop, a smile playing on my lips. I had finally gotten in with Frankie and if I played my cards right, we could be a real couple by the end of the season. This was the most important undertaking of my life and I was determined not to mess it up.