Overtime

2

"Amber. Amber Abrams."

He nods and points his fingers at us, "Sisters?"

I laugh, "No, best friends." We look nothing alike. We were almost polar opposites. "You never answered my question of why you're here."

He takes a swig of his beer and points behind him, "Buddies and I donate to this charity every year." He must be rich. His navy suit looks expensive.

"You look so familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Before he can answer, I say, "He looks like Chanting Tatum with hair. Right?"

He shrugs, and Amber responds, "You know, I kind of see it."

"Moore, what's got you occupied?" A voice from behind shouts. His light-skinned friend from the strip club appears with widened eyes. "Hello, ladies." Moore must be the guy's last name because that wasn't what he told me the other week. I can't think of his name right now.

"Owens, this is Adam Abrams's daughter and best friend."

Owens, which must be his last name, sobers up and smiles, "Pleasure to meet you."

"They were at the strip club on your birthday." So it was his birthday, and he wanted to go to the strip club. He and Amber would be perfect for each other.

He gasps, staring at me, "This must be the girl calling you Magic Mike!"

Moore and I both blush. He was talking about me after we parted ways. I suck on my bottom lip, "Come on, we all can see it."

We stand there for a minute before Owens asks, "Would you ladies like to dance?"

Amber gasps, "Yes!" She grabs my hand, trying to pull me away. I chug the rest of my champagne, setting it down on the table.

The boys follow us to the dance floor. Amber grabs Owens as her dance partner, leaving me with Moore. I wrap my hands around his neck, and he wraps his around my waist, "Can you tell me your first name again? I was a little out of it when we met."

He grins, "Miles."

"Julia, if you don't remember."

We begin to sway to the music. "Julia, what do you do in Nashville?"

"I'm a photographer."

He nods, "What kind of photographer?"

"Mainly sports. I also do portraits and landscapes. I work a lot with the colleges around here."

"You don't work at the Nissan stadium?"

I shrug, "Never really thought about it. The colleges take up most of my time."

"What's your favorite sport to photograph?"

"Um, I guess football or baseball."

"Do you mind if I steal this man from you for just a minute?" Another man comes around the corner. It must be another one of his friends.

"Yes, of course!" Miles leaves, and I watch the guy walk over to Owens.

"God, they are all so hot," Amber moans after they're out of earshot.

"Yeah, where in the world did they come from?"

"Heaven, I think."

Amber's father gathers everyone's attention, clinking a knife against his glass. "Thank you, everyone, for attending this Nashville Nurtures charity organization. We have some special guests here today who have donated a huge amount to the children. Please let me welcome a few players of the Tennessee Titans." The crowd cheers, and my mouth hangs open as I see Miles, Owens, and a few other men climb onto the stage.

I turn to look at Amber, who wears the same facial expression. "Fucking hell, that's even hotter."

Miles Moore is an NFL player for the Tennessee Titans. No wonder he seemed so interested, knowing I was a sports photographer. What the hell? I need to google this man immediately. "Did you bring your phone down here?" I whisper to Amber as we intensely watch Miles give a speech. I knew I should have brought mine.

She opens her purse, lifting her phone out. She immediately looks up the roster for the Titans. "Quarterback is, oh my God, Miles Moore. The wide receiver is Caleb Owens. Oh my God. I think I'm going to faint."

"No fucking way I was just dancing with an NFL quarterback."

The boys finish their speeches and head back towards us. Miles wears a smirk as he walks up to me. "You're in the NFL?"

He chuckles, grabbing two drinks off the waiter's tray who was walking by. He hands one to me, puts his hand on my back, and leads me somewhere more secluded. "That's why I asked if you worked at the stadium. Wondered if you took pictures of me, but you didn't recognize me."

"To be honest, I probably wouldn't have noticed you if I had taken pictures of you before since you wear a helmet. I didn't even know your full name until like fifteen minutes ago."

He laughs, leaning against the wall, "kind of refreshing not to be noticed."

"If I told you I was thinking of the best way to ask for your autograph..." I trail off.

"I think I know where I would be signing one." His eyes rake over my body, and I blush. There could be two places he would want to sign: ass or tits. And he can clearly see my breasts poking out from my jumpsuit.

He is trying to make me squirm. It must be payback for the Magic Mike comments. I need to seem brave. I snort, "Nothing that's never happened before." I take a long sip of my drink. Confidence is key.

His eyes widen, "Are you joking? I'm gonna need a storytime."

"I got a little too drunk backstage at a Luke Bryan concert. Luke was the one giving us shots. All I remember is that I woke up the next morning with his signature written across my breasts, and I'm pretty sure I wore a turtleneck there."

"I'd love to see pictures," he takes a sip of his drink. "You're a little wild, aren't you?"

I bite my lip, "Any of my wild activities are thanks to her." I point to Amber, who was almost pressed up against Caleb. "I'd show you pictures but my phone is upstairs."

"Another time," he pauses, looking behind me where I'm assuming his teammates were. "I think we are about to head out. It was good to see you again, Julia. I hope to see you at the stadium."

I caress my hand over his bicep, which is rock solid, "I'm sure you will." With that, he walks away, and I'm running upstairs to google him.