20. Cameron
Chapter 20
Cameron
November 17
Has Influencer Daphne Quinn Slipped Past Lyndhurst’s Defense Line?
Between the grueling practice and my guilt over the photo plastered everywhere, I’m a walking time bomb. No one said anything to me all day, but those familiar whispers from when I first joined the team seem to be back. Or maybe it’s all in my head.
The locker room is empty except for those of us who stayed late for extra training. Coach and the offensive line are in the media room, reviewing plays for Saturday’s game. I pull out my phone from my duffel and text Daphne.
Cameron
Hey. Thinking about you.
How are you?
Daphne
:/
Cameron
Be home soon.
I barely reach my locker before my defensive squad rushes over. Gustafsson throws an arm around my shoulder, Tae-woo right behind him.
“Congratulations, Hastings,” Tae-woo says, holding up his phone, which displays the article about Daphne and me.
“About time you made it official.” Gustafsson grins, running over to see the picture for himself.
“We haven’t.” I sigh. Last night ignited something between us. I let my feelings show, almost claimed her, but of fucking course the paparazzi had to ruin it.
Gustafsson’s brow furrows. “Didn’t know you were keeping it under wraps.”
“There’s nothing to keep,” I say, the words tasting like gravel. “We’re just friends. She gave me a hug after the game, and you know how tabloids can twist things.”
“The Stone Times ? They’re full of it,” Tae-woo chimes in. “Last year, they claimed my sister was my new girlfriend.”
“Your sister?” I grimace. At least my teammates understand what it’s like to have lies printed about them. “That’s revolting.”
“Hope Daphne is taking it okay,” Gustafsson says.
“She’s fine,” I say, finding it hard to believe my own words.
After the initial shock wore off, we settled into the silent comfort of another movie. She drifted off to sleep, her head resting on the couch. I slipped out quietly, not wanting to wake her, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced with thoughts of where the night would’ve led if we hadn’t been interrupted and how the gossip would affect us.
This morning, when I checked in on her, she assured me she was okay.
Deep down, even after I get the article taken down, I know the damage is already done. The damn tabloids have sunk their claws in, hurting someone I care about. The girl with the bright smile and laughter that somehow brings a part of me back to life. The girl whose mere memory keeps the nightmares at bay, the girl who’s always alive in my mind, the girl who knows all of this now.
My girl.
And admitting that, even to myself, feels like the first breath of air after almost drowning. It’s not just about me; it’s about protecting her. It’s about us. That realization hits me hard.
The locker room door creaks open, and Femi, moving with ease and confidence thanks to his new bionic prosthetic, bursts in, breathless and wide-eyed. “You got company outside, Hastings. Swarming the entire parking lot.”
Not this again. My chest tightens, my vision narrows. The air thickens. I can’t breathe, can’t think.
Why won’t they leave me alone? My mind fills with the roar of flashing lights. I’m pulled, prodded, microphones shoved in my face, cameras smacking into me.
Every flash of the camera feels like a punch. My knees buckle, and I slump onto a bench, feeling their intrusion pressing in on me. I want to scream, to push them all away, but I’m trapped under their relentless gaze.
The room spins. My vision darkens at the edges.
“Cameron.” A voice echoes. “Hey, Hastings!” I focus my vision. Okafor stands over me, face blanched with concern. “You all right?”
My pulse screeches in my ears. “Fine.” I bat him away and try to force the weight of my mind’s intrusion off my shoulders. Maybe I can outrun them again. “Fuck. I just—I don’t want to deal with them.”
“Let us help?” Gustafsson settles down next to me, his presence a surprising comfort.
“Help?” A part of me wants to believe them, but another part screams that this is just pity. “You don’t have to do that,” I say, the words thick with the remnants of mistrust. The tabloids are ruining my life, threatening to take everything away again. Cost me my dignity. Cost me another season. Cost me someone who means something.
“We want to.” Tae-woo joins us, falling to the other side of me, his voice steady and sincere. They both smile at me. There’s no pity on their faces, just genuine kindness. They consider me a friend despite the walls I built around myself at the beginning of the season.
Still.
“I don’t need your pity,” I snap, feeling defensive. “I can handle this on my own.”
Okafor shakes his head. “It’s not pity, Hastings. We’re your teammates. We’ve got your back.”
“Yeah,” Tae-woo adds, his tone gentle but firm. “We’ve all been there, man. We know what it’s like to have the media breathing down your neck. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
I glance between them, my defenses crumbling like ruins. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”
“Because you’re one of us,” Okafor says simply. “And we don’t turn our back on a lion.”
“All right,” I finally say, the words heavy with relief. “I appreciate it.”
For a moment, the mistrust I’ve held onto loosens. In the locker room, the metallic clang of lockers, the sharp smell of sweat, and the loud laughter had always been harsh reminders of the camaraderie I couldn’t touch, the brotherhood from which I felt a thousand miles away. But now, surrounded by my teammates, their support makes me realize I’m not alone.
“Go for Leo.”
“It’s me.” I can’t hide the panic in my voice. I shift in the driver’s seat, relieved to have returned to the Lodge without the paparazzi swarming me. My teammates escorted me to my car and past the reporters. I felt pathetic.
“Cameron?” Dad asks. “Are you all right, son?”
Regret washes over me. I feel like a kid who can’t fix his own mess. Dad helped me with the livestream March by using his connections to silence the tabloids. It’s good to have a father with influence.
“I assume you saw the news already.”
“Carlyle forwarded it this morning. Who’s the girl?” Dad asks.
“She’s a…” I pause. To call her a friend feels too simple, too inadequate for what Daphne has come to mean to me. “Her name is Daphne.”
“The one from the auction on Sunday?”
“Yes,” I admit, smiling at the thought of her.
“What’s she after? Another Mal Kelly situation?” Dad wonders.
“No, she’s nothing like that. She’s…” I struggle for the right words. “It’s different.”
“There hasn’t been a girl in a long time,” Dad notes. Even over the phone, he reads me well. “Can’t say I’m not happy for you.” His words are warm and comforting.
“Can you fix this? I don’t want the media focusing on my personal life instead of the matches.”
“I don’t know, Cameron.” He sighs. “If this were like the situation at Overton, I’d understand, but this is minor. A headline about a fling won’t affect you.”
“She’s not a fling, and it’s—it’s affecting her.” My frustration seeps into my tone. The comments were ruthless toward her.
“I hear you. And I’m sorry this is hurting your girl, but you’re in the public eye. From what I understand, she is too, isn’t she? This is what your life will be like if you keep playing at this level. I can’t protect you from everything.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I insist. “I just want these tabloids to stop spreading lies.”
“You think the media will ease up if you win the Premier League? What about when you go to the World Cup? Players’ lives become headlines when they’re not on the pitch. It sells copies. Maybe this isn’t what you want to hear, but if there’s no real story here, maybe you can just let it go instead of running from it?”
The memory of the last scandal still haunts me. Headlines ran for over a month after he scrubbed the internet. Sure, the Overton locker room livestream still lurks in certain corners of the internet, but no big papers would touch it for fear of losing shareholders.
I can’t let this gossip train cost me Daphne or the Premiership.
“Let it go?” No. I didn’t want advice, I wanted a solution.
“The things your mother and I dealt with in the media back in our day. When she found out she was pregnant with Alec during her playoff season and had to miss the championship game, people said awful things about us. But you know what, Cameron? None of that mattered. We stopped reading them.”
“But you were married to Mom. It’s not the same,” I say, frustration in my voice.
“The only opinions that matter are those of the people you care about and trust, Cam. Sounds like you have someone to weather this with.”
“Dad, I can’t have what happened at the end of last season happen again.”
“All right.” He sighs. “I’ll get Carlyle on it. Lay low for now. How about coming home for the holidays? The rest of the family will be here. If you’re worried about your girl, bring her along. UK tabloid gossip doesn’t have quite the same impact over here.”
Christmas is only a month away, but with the big match against Overton on December nineteenth looming, I can’t even think that far ahead. Charlie is probably loving every minute of me getting dragged into the media.
I hesitate. “I’ll think about it.” Would Daphne be ready to meet my family?
Dad continues, “Carlyle will arrange for the jet for Sunday the twentieth. You can fly the morning after your Overton game.” His voice softens. “Come home, son.”
“Okay,” I reply, my voice barely audible.
Relief washes over me, and we end the call. I check my messages. Still nothing from Daphne. Worry churns in my chest.
We had something special, our own world. Last night was a turning point. I showed her what she meant to me, and I know she felt it too. But now the media vultures are circling. I can’t stand losing her to this chaos.