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  “So, what’s it like being a football star?” she asked. “Is it everything you thought it was going to be? Or do you miss having privacy and a normal life sometimes?”

  Whoa. That was a lot deeper of a direction than I thought this conversation was going to go. Usually women who started asking what it was like to be a football star followed up with inane questions about where I lived, and whether I got asked for my autograph a lot.

  “It’s all right,” I said, trying that smile again. “The frequent flier miles are the bomb.”

  Her face changed and she apparently lost interest in talking to me because she said, “I see.” There was an awkward moment and then she turned to that golfer chick and started asking her questions instead.

  As Lauren walked back in the room, I realized that I had just done the very thing we were learning about in training. When Elizabeth came up to me and started talking, I assumed she was hitting on me when she was really just trying to have a meaningful conversation. When I played off her sincere question, she shut down and moved on. This was exactly how I got the reputation of being sexist. If, say, the Senator had asked me the same question, I might have answered it differently.

  Damn. This shit was starting to work.

  As soon as the day’s training was over, I bolted out of there as fast as I could. I had no desire to stick around and chit chat with Lauren, and I hadn’t even gotten a look at my room yet. I’d checked in during a morning break, and they’d given me my key, but I’d been in training the whole day. Even our lunch break was as a group.

  Because of the fire alarm and oversleeping, I’d missed my workout, my shower, and my morning visualization exercise. I’d wait until tomorrow morning to hit the gym, but I could still get in a shower and my visualization. One of the things my coach at UCLA taught me was that winning the game happens in your mind before you ever step foot on the field. You have to be able to see everything perfectly clearly in your mind--every pass, every first down, every touchdown. “See it, hear it, feel it, know it, win it” is what he always said. So I made it part of my daily practice to visualize success.

  As I was waiting for the elevator, I saw Lauren walking toward me talking to a couple of the guys from class. Even though I knew that pushing the elevator button more times didn’t make it come faster, I couldn’t help it. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in an elevator with her.

  Remember that time in the elevator at UCLA? We turned the emergency stop on and were doing it in the elevator when the fire department broke open the doors? Who knew there was a silent alarm?

  I found myself grinning at the memory as the elevator doors finally opened. Despite everything, we did have some good times back in the day. Before everything changed, that is.

  The shower was awesome. Not as good as the one I have at home, obviously, but for a hotel shower it was pretty damn good.

  As I stepped out into the steamy bathroom, I checked out the gun show in the mirror. Flexing here and there, I did my best “Arnold” poses. My muscles were still pretty pumped from the season, but if I didn’t knock off the chicken wings and cookies, the flab that was starting to grow on my stomach would only get bigger. Coach would kill me if I showed up to training camp fat.

  Was size another one of those hidden biases I had? Probably. When you spend your career in athletics, watching what you eat and exercising for hours a day so you don’t gain weight, it’s easy to make unconscious judgments about people who don’t have the same discipline. Even the way I thought about it, saying “don’t have the same discipline,” was a judgy way to look at it.

  I wrapped myself up in the big fluffy robe they had in the bathroom, and headed to the living room to do my visualization. It was dark outside and I could see some tiny lights on the ski slopes; everything looked clean and fresh.

  Plopping down on the soft couch, I settled in. I could definitely see why this room went for a thousand bucks a night. It was a pretty luxurious place.

  I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes, and started to think about football. I was in the locker room getting ready to suit up for the game. I could smell the chlorine from the hot tub as it mixed with the sweat from my pads. I could hear the band out on the field playing and the crowd cheering as the cheerleaders pumped them up.

  “Hey, stranger.” It was Lauren.

  Without a word, she crossed the empty locker room and walked right up to me. Looking me straight in the eye, she started to unbutton her white, collared shirt.

  I was instantly hard.

  Her fingers worked their way to the bottom of the shirt, and it hung open, revealing a white push up bra. She always did wear matching bra and panty sets.

  Shrugging the shirt onto the floor, she slipped her pants off too. She was standing in front of me wearing nothing but her white bra and panties.

  My cock was throbbing to get out of these tight pants, but instead of pulling them off she took her hand and began rubbing the outside of my uniform pants. Oh god, it felt incredible to have her stroking me. She knew just how to squeeze me with the perfect amount of pressure to turn me on.

  Mercifully, she stopped before I came in my pants.

  Putting one leg up on the bench, she reached back and unclasped her bra. It, too, fell to the ground, and my eyes feasted on the sight of those perfect, plump breasts. Her nipples were dark and standing at attention.

  Running her hands over them, she went down her belly toward the fabric of her panties. But, instead of pulling them off, she began teasing herself as she had teased me.

  That was it. I couldn’t stand it anymore and I ripped my clothes off and left them on top of hers.

  Dropping to my knees, I stuck my face right up to those wet, white panties. Her knee was still up and she looked down and grabbed my hair, pressing my face into her.

  I pulled the panties aside and stuck my tongue into the soft, smooth, shaven skin. Only a tiny patch of auburn hair was left.

  I lapped at her pussy like it was an ice cream cone. She tasted familiar. A little salty and a little sweet.

  My cock was raging hard as my fingers plunged into her wet folds. She was evidently really enjoying what I was doing, because my fingers were soaked with her juice.

  My mouth remembered what to do, as I lapped and licked and nibbled, while fucking her with two fingers.

  Her hips began rocking and pressing me deeper into her and I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before she came all over my face.

  Grabbing my hair even more tightly, her pussy began clenching around my fingers, and she threw her head back and said —

  BUZZ.

  My eyes fluttered open. I wasn’t with Lauren in the locker room. I was in my hotel room.

  BUZZ.

  It was the doorbell to my room. Someone was buzzing the door.

  Looking down at my erection sticking out from my robe, there was no way I could answer the door. But whoever it was wouldn’t quit and started banging on the door.

  “Come on, Ryan. Open up.”

  I looked through the peephole and saw a fish eye view of two men on the other side of the door. It was Alex and Diego, and it appeared they’d been pre-gaming in the bar.

  “Yeah. Open up!”

  I opened the door a crack, making sure to keep the lower half of my body behind the door.

  “Hey guys.”

  “Damn, Ryan. What took you so long? Do you have someone in there with you?” Alex was trying to peek over my shoulder.

  “I was just … getting out of the shower.”

  “Well, get dressed and come out with us. There are three Sports Illustrated swimsuit models in the hot tub outside.”

  I’d done more than my share of hanging out in hot tubs with swimsuit models, and let’s just say that the experience was overrated. The conversations were shallow, at best, and they were more concerned with how they looked than in having any meaningful interactions.

  “Naw. I’m gonna do some reading and then turn in early. I was up ha
lf the night from that damn fire alarm.” I’d told everyone about my little trip to Dillon during my introduction.

  “All right, man. Your loss.”

  Was it? As Alex and Diego weaved unsteadily down the hall toward the elevators, I shook my head as I closed the door. No. No loss at all. Tomorrow morning when they were hungover and tired, I’d be mentally sharp and ready to play. Even though this weekend wasn’t a football game, I still needed to win. I wanted Lauren to see that she’d been wrong about me. I wasn’t just some party boy. I was a mentally and physically disciplined elite athlete.

  10

  Lauren: A Learned Response

  I’d had a restless night’s sleep. Normally I sleep great in this hotel. The bed is like a cloud and everything in the room is suited to rest. But last night, I just tossed and turned and kept replaying yesterday in my mind.

  I couldn’t believe I let Shawn get to me like that. How unprofessional of me to lose my cool in front of the class. Definitely not okay.

  So as soon as the hotel gym opened, I was going to get dressed and head down. A nice hard run would hopefully work out all of my aggression toward Shawn and let me get back to the calm, composed person I normally was. I could not afford to let anything like that happen again.

  Throwing on a pair of shorts I always brought with me, a sports bra, a tank top, and my new Nikes, I headed out toward the elevator. We had that early morning thing in the bowling alley at 8, but since it was only 6, I had plenty of time to get a few miles in on the treadmill before class.

  I was going at it really hard. The morning news people on the TV were talking about the weather, and I had just passed three miles on the treadmill. My mind was going as fast as my feet were. Here I was, training people on identifying bias and changing behaviors, and yet I was being emotionally triggered by someone from my past.

  Was I making flawed assumptions about Shawn? Could I have been wrong about him? It seemed hard to believe that his behavior could be interpreted any other way. I hadn’t really watched the video of his incident on ESPN. Maybe I was assuming that he was still the same immature playboy, and that’s why he made those comments. But was there another way to look at it?

  There was a cool gust of air behind me as the door to the gym opened. I saw a reflection in the glass in front of me. Was that …? Oh, no. It was.

  Shawn was here.

  Pushing my ear buds in even further, I upped the speed on the treadmill and stared straight ahead at the TV. Maybe if I ignored him, he would ignore me.

  The whole vibe of the room changed, though, as I was focused on not focusing on him. He knew I was there, obviously. He kept stealing glances at me as he went over to the weight bench and set down his stuff.

  I wasn’t watching, but could see out of the corner of my eye as he peeled off his t-shirt, revealing an insanely form fitting tank top. Was it really necessary to take the outer shirt off?

  Well, it is getting hot in here, Lauren …

  I could see that he’d gotten a few new tattoos. Not that I was looking or anything.

  He seemed to be smirking as he started stretching his upper body. He was straddling the weight bench, and his arms were above his head, revealing perfect lats, pecs, and abs.

  There was a fine scar running the length of one knee, and I recalled hearing he’d had knee surgery a couple of years ago.

  I glanced at the clock and it was time for me to leave and get ready. But I didn’t know exactly how to get off the treadmill and walk by him without having a conversation. It was just the two of us in this small gym and there was literally no way to get to the door without walking right by him. I was either going to have to die here on this treadmill or walk by him.

  Dammit. I’d gone five miles and really needed to get in the shower, so I hit “end” on the machine and waited for it to slow down.

  I grabbed the towel I’d draped across the treadmill, wiped my face, and took a huge drink of water from the bottle I’d brought.

  Honestly, the heat in that room was so thick it felt more like Miami in August than Colorado in February. But I didn’t think it had anything to do with the thermometer.

  “Hey,” Shawn said as soon as I pulled out my earbuds.

  “Hey,” I spoke at the same time. “Look, I’m sorry about …” I said.

  “I didn’t mean anything by …” he said.

  We both laughed. “Looks like we’re still doing that thing we always did where we start talking at the same time,” I said.

  “Yeah. You first,” he said.

  Yeah, we used to do that a lot too …

  “I was just going to say that I’m sorry for losing my cool yesterday. It was unprofessional. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle … this …” I gestured to the two of us. “But evidently I didn’t handle it well.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m the one who owes you an apology. I had no idea you were the trainer for this, and I totally provoked you with that whole thing about college. I’m sorry.”

  He looked so sincere that I wanted to believe him. I really did.

  “Look, maybe we can get dinner or something after the training tonight? Catch up? Talk about old times?” He looked so charming right now that every alarm in my head went off.

  “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Shawn.”

  “Why not? The training will be over. You won’t be my teacher …” He grinned at me, doing that dimple thing I loved so much.

  “Not quite. There’s a homework assignment, and the training technically doesn’t end for a few weeks.”

  He looked surprised. “Oh, wow. I had no idea. I thought it was just a one weekend thing. Well, maybe after the few weeks, then?”

  “Shawn, I don’t think so.” I walked toward the door. “Sometimes it’s just best to leave things in the past.”

  “That’s an assumption, Lauren. But is it a valid one?”

  Well, well, well. Mr. Ryan was turning out to be a good student after all.

  “Good morning everyone,” I said as I unlocked the door to the training room. Despite the fact that I’d left Shawn in the gym, he made it to the door of the training room before I did. Nice job.

  As we all filed in, I did notice that Diego and Alex looked a little worse for wear today. Too much partying, maybe? It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it. Typically at every session one or two of the participants would take advantage of the hotel amenities a little too much and come dragging in on day two.

  Frankly, I was surprised and a little impressed that Shawn wasn’t one of them.

  “Okay, we can leave our things here and head out to the bowling alley for our first exercise. Let me give you the instructions first. Everyone here has been bowling before, right?”

  They all nodded.

  “Typically, you walk up to the alley and use your dominant hand to roll the bowling ball down and hit as many pins as possible. Instead, I am going to give you instructions on how to do it in a way that’s different from your normal pattern. So for example, you’ll use your non dominant hand, or you’ll use both hands, or you’ll close your eyes. The goal is to see how it’s possible to do things that are different from our normal patterns of behavior, and that it’s uncomfortable at first.”

  This was one of my favorite exercises, as it really got people thinking about the fact that behavior is just a learned response to a stimulus.

  As I followed the group out of the room, my eyes landed on Shawn’s fine form and my body began to respond to the sight of him. We’d been together so many times in so many different ways that it was really a learned response. That’s all it was.

  You keep telling yourself that, Gordon.

  11

  Shawn: Choose a Color

  “So? Are you house trained yet?” Terrance had left me a message when we were in the bowling alley exercise, and I’d called him back on our morning break.

  “Pretty much. You should see the Scooby snacks she gives out as a reward,” I said, laughing. I’d texted him ye
sterday telling him that the trainer was my high school and college girlfriend. He’d made some joke about asking her to the homecoming dance.

  “Are you still planning on staying a couple extra days to go skiing? Smitty is flying out to Denver and said I could tag along on his chartered flight.”

  Smitty was our kicker and his kids lived in Colorado. His ex wife had refused to move when he got traded from the Broncos to the Heroes.

  “I still am. You wanna come for some snowboarding? I hear there are some Sports Illustrated swimsuit models here.”

  “Oh God. I hope it’s not Tara. I’ve been avoiding her since that incident in Milan.”

  I saw the group starting to head back into the training room. “I wouldn’t know, man. Anyway, I’m staying at One Ski Hill Place.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be in around 6 I think. Flight gets into DIA around three?”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you in the bar.” I waved to the group to let them I was on my way in. “I’m glad you’re coming. It’s been a while since we’ve done anything but play football together.”

  We were sitting around the conference table and had just debriefed the bowling exercise. Next up was something called the “Choose a Color” exercise. Lauren said she would hand each person a piece of paper with instructions on it, and we were to keep what was on it to ourselves.

  As she went around the room, handing out the slips of paper, I realized that I was proud of her. She had done very well for herself since college and she was obviously very good at her job. I’d learned so much in just the first day and a half. And from what I could tell, the other people here had, too. Even Diego and Alex had shared some pretty profound insights. I could see why she was in demand and at the top of her field.

  Lauren came around to where I was sitting, and leaned over to hand me the paper. She smelled like fresh cotton and roses, and I instantly recognized the scent as the perfume she used to wear. My senses were flooded with memories of when we were a couple, young and in love.