Page 99 of Play the Last Card
Continuing the D1 athlete line has never been so cute as Ivy Booker and Scott Harvey show off new love after last night's playoff game.
These headlines are starting to do my head in.
The television hanging from the wall across from the bed is on low but when I glance up and see theSportsCentertitles play, I groan.
Pops chuckles from his bed next to me. “You can’t hide out here forever, Ivy.”
“I can and I will,” I reply, still scrolling through my phone.
“I think it’s nice. All the reports I’ve seen are just commenting on how smitten you two look.”
I look up, setting my phone aside and narrowing my eyes. “What reports have you been seeing?”
“Well …” Pops runs his hands over the already smooth blanket. “They talked about it on the local news this morning.”
I roll my head back to rest against the chair, my eyes shutting. “I don’t want to know.”
“All they said was that you make a cute couple.” I crack an eye open to glare at him.
I try to ignore how pale he looks today, and how he’s been complaining of being cold since I walked in. Still Pops smiles at me.
“And that you would make very cute, very athletic babies.”
“Oh my god.” I sink into the chair, covering my face with my hands. I burn up. The blushing is so real when I think about me and Scott, getting pregnant and having that kind of future.
Of course, that was before this relationship of ours—this very new relationship—was outed and became a media freak show.
“Jeff called me as well. Wanted to know if he should trade Scott effectively immediately.” Pops tries to sound casual but I can hear his chuckle coming. I roll my eyes as he continues, “I told him no because I want my great grand baby to be a fourth-generation Broncos player.”
Knew it.
The rollercoaster of emotions that I’m going through today is something else. I love that Pops is finding some joy in this going public and trying to keep my spirits up but I also know what the media coverage means. It means that I’m being thrust into a world I’m not fully ready to be in.
“What did Uncle Jeff actually say?” I ask after a beat.
“Well, he was concerned.” Pops coughs, his face going a bit red. I move forward on my chair, reaching for the water on his bedside table. Pops sips on it before holding it gently in his lap. “He said it made sense you were keeping it quiet and he’s concerned how you’re handling the media attention now it’s all out there. He is worried about you.”
I feel my face heat. “He doesn’t need to be worried. I’m fine.”
“We both know you’re lying through your teeth right now. But I told him there isn’t anything to worry about. Scott is looking after you.” Pops takes another sip of the water and sinks back against his pillows. He levels me with a stare. “How are you feeling about it?”
The question I’ve been avoiding all day.
The same question Scott asked me today before he left for practice and meetings that I wasn’t able to answer.
How am I feeling?
I feel … disgusted. Exposed. Scared.
I feel itchy all over, constantly checking over my shoulder and terrified I’m being followed by some idiot with a camera.
I feel like I can’t go more than a few hours without crying. I’d come to the hospital straight after school today, hoping to hide out from the rest of the world for a while.
It's as if I’ve been spiraling since the moment the pictures were leaked.
I can’t control that my face is being posted across a hundred different gossip and social sites. I can’t control that the sports media is making a connection between Scott and my dad. I can’t control that my colleagues at work are already asking if I can get them tickets to games.
My head hurts and my heart aches. It feels as if an electric current runs just beneath my skin. My heart has been racing all day and I feel on edge.