Atlas was nervous as he watched the game unfolding before him. They were down by three at the start of the fourth quarter against the Chicago Ravens, and it was beginning to look grim. His ribs started to ache when he sat down, and he knew a bruise was already forming. The Ravens’ cornerback had been brutal from the start, honing in on Atlas like a missile after each whistle blow. The rookie spotted his defender across the field and bumped Alex’s knee.
“Who’s number twenty-two?” The blond grimaced beneath the helmet.
“Xander Morris, second year in the NFL and with the Ravens. They started callin’ him The Hunter in college, and it stuck around after his first few games.”
“Why exactly do they call him that?” Atlas questioned, getting a bit nervous.
“Because he sees you as prey the minute you step on that field, and he will hunt you down like it.”
“Oh, cool, so I’m gonna die.” The rookie resisted the urge to bang his head into the concrete at their backs and sighed. “Any advice?
“You might be able to outrun him, but only if you can get around him. He’s one of the most vicious defensive backs in the league right now, so keep your eyes on him.” Alex patted his shoulder as they got up to join the offensive line, but it did nothing to quell the growing unease in the rookie. He faced Xander as they lined up, noting the hungry expression behind the purple face mask, and prepared himself for a rough drive.
“It looks like Xander Morris has locked onto his target for the night,” Mark commented as Atlas was slammed to the ground. “That is the third tackle against Graham tonight, and Morris does not seem to be letting up.”
“Morris isn’t known for that, so Graham definitely needs to adapt if the Lightning have any chance of winning against the top-ranked team in the league.” On the field, Atlas shook his head and took a split-second to observe Xander. He was shorter than the rookie by a few inches, but his reach and strength were surprising given the Raven’s build. Atlas knew he would be safe if he could put some distance between them.
The rookie lined back up as Colin called the following route and steeled himself as the ball went live. He took off forward and shoved Xander to the left before splitting toward the right. If Xander was entirely focused on Atlas, as the announcers made it seem, then the Lightning could use that to their advantage. He ran past Alex, who was heading toward the Ravens’ sideline for the catch, but Xander paid the other receiver no mind as he caught up to the young man. Atlas heard the whistle blow seconds before he was forced to the ground, a knee in his back keeping him there as Xander rose.
“All night long, Graham. You and me, baby, all night long,” the older man crowed, bouncing away as Atlas pushed himself to his feet. He expected the refs to call unnecessary roughness for tackling after the whistle, but no one threw a flag as he jogged back to the line.
“That hit looked a little late, Mark, but I don’t see a flag on the play.”
“I actually agree, Tim. It looks like a certain pop star isn’t happy about it either.” Atlas snorted as the screen played a slow-motion video of Savannah yelling behind the glass, the outrage clear on her flushed face. Despite the motivation of the singer’s presence, the Lightning made no headway on their next three plays and returned to the sidelines dejected.
The game was coming to an end with less than two minutes left on the clock, and the odds of victory slimmed with each second. When Atlas retook the field, he knew they needed to make something happen. If the Lightning could get near the Ravens’ endzone, Lamar could tie the game and give them a fighting chance in overtime.
Xander was on him the moment the ball hit Colin’s hands, a tight grip on his jersey keeping him in place as the quarterback scrambled for a small gain of five yards. Atlas caught Colin’s eye, noting the flick of his head, and then glanced toward Coach Taylor and his moving hands. The rookie nodded his understanding, and seconds before their center snapped the ball, he and Alex traded spots.
The Ravens didn’t have enough time to alter their positions, which left Atlas wide open for a short pass to the Lightning’s thirty-five. The rookie pivoted and took off as fast as his legs would go, fighting the ground for every step as the other team closed in on him. He passed the forty-five and then the forty-yard-line, but a surprise hit from his left sent Atlas tumbling across the sideline and into the legs of his teammates.
“Oh, Graham is not looking good,” one of the announcers said, but the words came out garbled beneath the ringing in Atlas’ ears. His teammates pulled him to his feet, and Coach Taylor was in his face, snapping his fingers until the young man forced his vision to focus.
“Graham, you’re out. Need to make sure you don’t got a concussion, son.”
“Nah, coach, I can play,” he muttered, trying not to sway on his feet as the world began a slow rotation.
“You can’t even walk in a straight line,” the older man retorted. “Sit your ass down so the medic can take a look at you.” The rookie huffed but did as told, yanking off his helmet and flopping down on the bench. Atlas watched the clock hit zero and their winning streak end and felt a familiar rage welling inside him as he watched Xander celebrate alongside the other Ravens. The medic cleared him with a warning to rest, and Atlas thanked her politely as he moved to join the others in the locker room. Coach Taylor’s recap was muffled as the rookie sat down in his cubby, leaning against the wood panel with his eyes closed until Alex shook him back to awareness.
Atlas took his time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles and bring him back to the land of the living. While he dressed, the rookie took note of the myriad of bruises that were already purpling on his torso and the twinge in his right shoulder as he pulled a flannel over his white tee. Atlas escaped the locker room silently, ready to text Savannah, but nearly ran her over instead when he stepped into the tunnel.
“Woah, alright?” He asked, reaching out to steady the singer with a hand on her hip.
“Are you?” Atlas smiled at her concern and nodded.
“I’ve had worse. I was just a little disoriented.” He slowly removed his hand. “You still want to hit up The Diner tonight?” Savannah eyed him skeptically as they ambled down the corridor, her security team surrounding them.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Food cures all ailments,” Atlas replied cheekily. “I’ll be right as rain after a good meal and a milkshake, I promise.”
“Okay, we do dinner, but then I’m taking you home to rest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, smirking as he pushed the door open and put on his paparazzi face. Atlas helped her into the back of the SVU and slid in beside her, the cameras flashing brightly through the tinted windows even as George maneuvered them into traffic.
They chatted quietly about the game until they arrived at the restaurant, where Savannah bid her security a good night as they exited the car. Atlas opened the door and stepped in behind her, smiling politely at the host waiting behind the counter. The rookie had paid a small fee to close off the ground floor for two hours, a price he would’ve balked at last year, but it was worth it to give them some semblance of privacy.
“Anything caught your eye?” Atlas murmured as Savannah’s eyes roved over the chalkboard menu.
“I’m thinking a burger,” she replied absently. “I don’t get to make many unhealthy choices while on tour, so I always splurge on my breaks. After months of eating chicken and salads, I have a much higher appreciation.”
“I remember eating nothin’ but chicken and rice in high school to put on muscle,” the rookie stated fondly.
“Well, it paid off,” Savannah said, giving him a flirty wink before turning to speak with the host, who seemed almost dazed as he took her order. With their food rang in, Atlas paid for their meal and let the singer pick their booth. He was a bit surprised when she chose to sit by the large windows rather than the corner booth tucked out of view but took a seat without comment.
“Are you really okay?” Savannah asked after a moment, an undercurrent of concern evident in her voice.
“The medic said I was fine, no concussion to worry about, but you can call me every two hours to make sure I’m still breathin’ if that will make you feel better,” the young man offered, a cheeky smirk rising to his lips.
“I’m sorry you guys lost.”
“Me too,” Atlas shrugged, “but it happens. It’s just showin’ us where we need to improve, so we’ll be ready next time.”
“I don’t know how you can prepare for a player like Xander Morris,” Savannah grimaced. “He’s already been fined once this season for unnecessary roughness, not to mention a dozen other times since his first year.” The rookie was a bit surprised that she knew that but assumed it was the topic of conversation up in the suites after his sudden removal from the game.
“I’ll be ready for Morris next time,” Atlas said simply. “I made the mistake of takin’ my eyes off him, but that won’t happen again.”
“I hope not. I’d hate to send George after him,” the singer remarked with a mock frown. The two laughed at the idea, and the conversation continued to flow until their food arrived, and they paused to eat.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Atlas relaxed as they talked, feeling entirely at ease in their tiny booth despite the flashing lights outside. Savannah didn’t pay the paparazzi any mind as she asked him miscellaneous questions about his life, so he tried to do the same. After draft day, the rookie had started expecting a handful of cameras any time he left his apartment, but being with Savannah was on a whole nother level. It was weird for Atlas to accept that his face would be splashed across magazine covers whenever the pair hung out, but he was slowly getting used to the idea. Plus, he could admit that some of the pictures were pretty good candids.
The young host from before slowly crept toward their table, a paper menu held awkwardly in front of him, and Savannah gave him a familiar stage smile.
“Sorry to, uh, interrupt you guys, but would you want a milkshake before you go? O-on the house?” Atlas hid a small smile behind his hand as Savannah nodded enthusiastically, rattling off their choice without taking the menu. The rookie gave her a teasing smirk once the teen ducked out of view.
“I think you’ve got a fan,” he commented, idly tossing a fry into his mouth.
“It’s sweet,” Savannah said, gently nudging his calf with her boot. “I imagine that’s what you were like in high school.”
“Oh no, I was way worse. At least he could talk to you without stuttering.” The singer snorted, hand over her mouth to stifle the unladylike giggles as the teen returned with a to-go cup in either hand. Atlas took a second to glance at the boy’s nametag as he, Marcus, sat the cups down on their table.
“Would you-” Marcus paused. “Would you mind signing this for my little brother?” He held out a small photograph, not to Savannah but Atlas. The singer was beaming as Atlas stared at the teen, clearly taken aback. The rookie had signed many autographs before games or after practice, but this was the first time someone had asked him in public. A light kick to his shin kicked the athlete back to reality, and he nodded quickly.
“Yeah, totally, what’s his name?” Marcus smiled nervously as Atlas took the picture and the offered marker.
“Benjamin, but I call him Benji.” Atlas scrawled a quick signature and handed the picture back before leaving the restaurant with Savannah giggling beside him.
“Was that your first time getting approached by a fan?”
“In public, yeah,” he admitted as they walked along the busy sidewalk, giving the looming paparazzi a glare to keep them at bay. “We should probably call George to come pick you up.”
“Your apartment is close, isn’t it?” She asked, darting a few steps ahead of him to walk backward, a surprising feat considering the slim heels on her boots.
“About fifteen minutes, why?”
“The night’s still young, and I promised to expose you to my extensive movie knowledge. Only if you’re still feeling okay,” Savannah added, giving him a look as they paused at the crosswalk. Atlas wanted to say that it was a bad idea, that her returning to his place would only fuel the rumors of their relationship, but he found himself nodding instead. It was hard to deny her when she looked up at him in such a way.
“What did you have in mind?” The singer hummed thoughtfully as they crossed the street, and a smirk slowly spread across her lips.
“I think we should start with my favorites, the Marvel movies.”
“You like superhero movies?”
“Absolutely. You think with hair like this, I wasn’t dressing up as Black Widow for Halloween?” Savannah questioned, flicking a lock of orange hair. “Both my parents are big fans of the whole franchise, so I grew up reading all the old comic books.”
“Any favorites?” Atlas inquired, sipping his milkshake happily as her eyes lit up.
“Well, out of the Avengers, I’d have to say Black Widow, obviously, but I also have a soft spot for Spider-man and all the unique variations.” It was surreal for the rookie to listen to Savannah geek out over superheroes, of all things, but he didn’t dwell too hard as they reached his apartment building. The sound of clicking cameras followed the pair until they stepped into the elevator, and then it became almost uncomfortably silent until they arrived at the top floor.
“Is yours the only apartment up here?” She asked suddenly, glancing around the short hallway with interest.
“Yeah, my agent found the listing, and I fell in love with the spot when I first toured it. I enjoy having my privacy while still having the convenience of living downtown,” Atlas explained while unlocking the door. He stepped inside and glanced around to ensure there was nothing embarrassing lying about, and then welcomed her in with a wave of his hand. The lights flickered to life as Savannah ventured further into the home, pausing at the entryway to the living room.
“You have a piano?” Atlas approached the well-loved instrument and gently touched the raised lid.
“It was my abuelito’s; he used to play it for the church. When he died, they gave it to my abuelita, who then passed it along to me,” the young man replied, motioning Savannah closer. “It sat in storage for a few years, but I had everything aside from the aesthetics fixed up before I moved in.”
“No fresh coat of paint?”
“All the little imperfections tell a story,” he said. “Some of the keys have grooves from him playing for forty-something years, but I couldn’t replace them. It reminds me of the lessons he gave me as a teen.” The athlete didn’t bother to mention that he originally started playing because he thought it would help him talk to Savannah. She didn’t need him to boost her well-deserved ego further.
“Would you play for me?”
“I’m definitely a bit rusty,” Atlas warned, already sliding onto the bench. “I haven’t played since the summer, so don’t hate me if it’s bad.” The rookie faced the keys again, gliding his fingers across the ivory, and did his best to remember the notes he had practiced a hundred times as a teenager.
“I’m sorry. Are you playing Endless Summer right now?” Atlas pulled his hands from the keys sheepishly and slid off the bench.
“It’s one of the only five songs I know,” he admitted quietly, turning away from her as his face got hot. “It was that or Hot Cross Buns.”
“You’ll have to show me that one another time,” Savannah quipped as she moved around so they faced each other again. “Now, where’s your TV?” Atlas led her from the living room back toward the entryway, grateful to leave his embarrassment behind, and motioned through the only open door.
“This is where I keep all my little trinkets and souvenirs I’ve collected throughout the years, plus my console for gaming.” He watched warily as the singer looked over the shelves with interest. The rookie had a few framed photos, most of them pictures with his family, but also a couple of mildly mortifying knick-knacks, such as Savannah’s vinyl albums mixed in with the rest of his collection hanging on the wall.
“I love the record player,” she commented, studying his records critically. “My dad gave me his old one when I was fourteen, and I got it fully restored after my first tour.”
“Yeah, there’s just somethin’ special about vinyl. My ma always had a record goin’ when she was home unless we were sleepin’,” Atlas said, smiling at the memory as he flopped back onto the grey velvet couch. Savannah stared at him momentarily and then gingerly sat on the edge of the cushions to remove her boots. Once they were placed to the side, the singer slowly scooted back until she hit the pillows and practically sank into them.
“This couch is amazing,” she muttered, twisting around as she got settled.
“I’m glad you approve,” the young man replied while turning on his console. “Now, tell me what movie I’m lookin’ for.”
“Well, do you want to watch them in order of release or chronologically?”
“Does it matter?” Atlas questioned, offering her the controller.
“Chronological it is, then.” The rookie turned off the lights while Savannah got them set up and reached behind the couch to hand her a fuzzy blanket his mom had gifted him for college. Atlas was happy to spend time with the singer in any capacity, but movies were rarely his first choice as he often got restless doing nothing. He was worried that he would be bored halfway through Captain America, but he found himself enjoying the story and Savannah’s offhand facts about every character.
Savannah had shifted closer at some point during Captain America’s transformation, and it had startled the rookie at first, but he slowly relaxed when she laid her head on his shoulder. Atlas debated sliding his arm around her, for her comfort, of course, but he couldn’t buck up the courage even as the credits started rolling. The rookie knew there were usually bonus scenes after the Marvel movies, so he made no move to get up, but it seemed that Savannah had other ideas. She reached over to press the pause button and then sat up on her knees before him, a slightly troubled look on her face as the blanket pooled around her waist.
“You know, it’s been driving me crazy the past couple of weeks,” she began, tilting her head back with closed eyes.
“What’s drivin’ you crazy?” Atlas questioned, wondering if he had done something wrong.
“You, Atlas; you are driving me absolutely insane,” Savannah huffed, giving him a pointed look. “I thought I would just go to your game and the fans would give you some peace, but then you surprised me. I had tried to prepare myself for anything because people always want something, but you just wanted to be my friend.” Atlas’ heart was thundering inside his chest so hard he feared his ribs would crack as he listened to her.
“You always make sure I feel welcome at the games or out with your friends and that I was comfortable when we went out. You’ve been so open from the start, telling me all about your life and never asking anything in return. I know it can’t be easy with the media coming after you with their wild theories about whether or not we’re sleeping together.” The rookie knew his skin was tomato-red but forced himself to remain quiet. “So, can I be bold, Atlas?”
“Try your luck,” he replied, dry-mouthed as he parroted her words from their first meeting. Atlas watched her inhale slowly, a fortifying breath, and then she moved faster than he could blink to straddle his lap. Surprisingly strong thighs kept him in place as Savannah’s hands draped loosely around his neck, the warmth of her touch prickling his skin like an electric shock as he stared up at her slack-jawed.
“I think about you all the time, Atlas Graham, and it’s getting a little distracting,” she stated quietly, her lips ghosting over his own and capturing his gaze with each word. “I tried dropping hints, thinking that maybe you were just looking for a sign, but you were right about being oblivious to women. Let me be perfectly clear this time. Last week, I said it was a date because I wanted it to be one.” Atlas’ usually racing mind was abnormally quiet the longer they held eye contact, the tension thrumming between them like a live wire, so he did the only thing he could think of.
The rookie wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling the singer against his chest as he arched up to press their lips together. Atlas felt her fingers moving up, nails scraping along his skin until they tangled in his short hair. All rational thought fled the young man’s body as he held Savannah in his arms, every sense filled with nothing but her. His body felt like molten lava the longer they remained locked together, every synapse and nerve firing at a rapid pace when her tongue traced the seam of his lips, and Atlas had to tear himself away when he began to feel light-headed.
“You distract me too,” Atlas whispered against her jaw as they caught their breath. “You’ve had my full attention from the start, Vanna.” The redhead hummed appreciatively, the sound vibrating through his chest.
“We’ll have to talk about this,” she pointed out, but neither moved to separate.
“Tomorrow?” He suggested, already dragging the singer down for another kiss now that he was allowed to do so. Savannah made a soft noise against his mouth and nodded vigorously.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, pushing him back into the pillows as he laughed against her lips and let his worries melt away for the night.