CHAPTER 3: GOOSEBUMPS

RAVEN

I pushed through the nearest restroom door like the building was on fire, my heart still hammering against my ribs. The cool, tiled space was a blessed relief from the blazing heat still rushing through my veins and the chaotic storm inside my skull.

A few other women glanced at me curiously as I made a beeline for the sinks, but I didn’t care. I needed water, and I needed it colder than cold.

Leaning over the sink, I twisted the faucet and splashed handful after handful of icy water onto my face. Droplets ran down my neck and soaked the collar of my shirt, but it barely helped. My cheeks were still burning, and my hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the counter.

What the hell just happened? I had no idea.

One second, I was standing there like a normal person, starstruck, and the next, Lyall Kingsley was looking straight at me like I was the only person in the entire world.

The moment the golden eyes locked onto mine… something cracked open inside me. It felt like electricity and recognition, like being seen all the way down to my bones.

I didn’t even know how to explain it, except that his eyes had made me feel exposed and terrifyingly vulnerable.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat still slightly out of rhythm, before noticing the goosebumps that still prickled along my arms where he’d touched me.

His arms had been so strong… so warm.

I’d wanted to melt into him forever. No, Raven. He was a married man, for goodness’ sake. I shook the image out of my head before staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Wet strands of hair stuck to my forehead, and my eyes looked too bright. “You are such a freak,” I whispered to myself. “Almost fainting? Really?”

The day would undoubtedly go down as the most embarrassing day of my life. I ruined my one chance to have at least a picture with him or an autograph... something.

Teagan would no doubt want to keep me away from him again after what happened. I splashed more cold water on my face, harder this time, trying to knock some sense back into myself.

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his eyes again and felt the way the world had narrowed until it was just him.

Get it together, Raven.

I grabbed a rough paper towel from the dispenser and patted my face dry, wincing at how red my skin still looked. I tried to touch up my makeup with the small compact I carried, but who was I kidding? I’d never been good at this stuff.

The mascara and blush I had on today came from Teagan’s mom, who had tossed the items into the shopping cart during our pre-Stanford haul without me even knowing.

I took several long, deep breaths, counting to ten on each exhale before straightening my shirt and heading out.

The least I could do now was salvage the rest of the day. My phone buzzed loudly in my pocket just then, startling me. I pulled it out and saw Teagan’s name on the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, wincing as I braced for an outburst. But she didn’t sound upset.

She just wanted to know where I was.

“The scrimmage is starting,” she said, telling me where they were seated.

“I’m coming,” I replied quickly, relieved she wasn’t angry. “Just… freshening up. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I hung up and slipped the phone back into my pocket. The Rams had traveled up for the day’s shared session, a common preseason tradition where the teams ran drills and competitive scrimmages against each other under the watchful eyes of both coaching staffs.

At least I could still watch him in action.

Even if I’d made a complete fool of myself, I wasn’t going to let it ruin the entire experience.

I pushed open the restroom door and stepped back into the bright sunlight. The atmosphere had shifted into focused practice mode, with coaches from both teams patrolling the sidelines with clipboards and headsets.

Whistles blew sharply as players rotated through individual drills before moving into team periods. Fans and media filled the stands, but the energy was more technical than game-day wild, with observers analyzing schemes, timing, and competition between the two California-connected franchises.

I spotted Teagan and her friend in the VIP seats, Teagan waving me over enthusiastically. Her friend was busy snapping photos with her phone, and I slid into the empty seat beside them, the plastic warm from the sun.

“Are you okay?” Teagan asked, raising an eyebrow. “You look a little flushed. What the hell happened back there?”

“I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to get into it, before forcing a smile. “I’m fine. It’s probably the heat.”

She then launched into a breakdown of the early periods, her eyes glued to the field. The love of football was one thing we had in common. Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the railing as the players took their positions for the next competitive segment. Even from a distance, Lyall stood out, moving with the effortless grace that made him legendary.

My chest swelled as I watched him call out signals to his offense, his voice carrying across the turf. The ball snapped, and he dropped back smoothly, delivering a perfect spiral that cut through the air.

The fans went wild, but no one was louder than Teagan and her friend, who even high-fived each other over the competitive edge the Cowboys were showing.

I clapped along with them, but inside, my thoughts were still spinning. I still felt exposed every time he looked our way, even though I wasn’t sure he was actually looking at us.

But I also felt alive.

I hugged myself, goosebumps rising again despite the warm sun. The joint practice wrapped up with sharp whistles and final coaching notes echoing across the fields. Players from both the Cowboys and Rams headed off the turf, some jogging lightly while others gathered in small groups.

Only the major network reporters were allowed access for post-practice interviews this time, with cameras and boom mics clustered around select stars beneath shaded tents.

I caught a distant glimpse of Lyall speaking with one of them, but I kept my head down as we left the VIP stands and made our way back to the parking lot.

Teagan’s Jeep gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, and the moment we climbed in, they pulled out their phones, immediately scrolling through the dozens of photos they’d snapped.

“Oh my God, look at this one!” The friend squealed, holding her screen toward Teagan. “The lighting on Lyall is perfect.”

Teagan leaned over, laughing. “And this sequence of him throwing? I’m posting these everywhere. Stanford Daily is going to love the content.”

I sat in the back seat with no proof that I’d been close to him except for the lingering goosebumps and the echo of his golden eyes.

I watched Teagan and her friend gush over their shots, zooming in, adding filters, and picking the best angles. Their excitement was infectious, but somehow, it left me feeling strangely hollow.

They started blasting the photos to their social media accounts right away, stories, posts, tags flying.

I pulled out my own phone and opened I*******m, quickly finding Teagan’s latest post. I typed a comment before hitting send, trying to feel like I was part of it.

But then her friend suddenly gasped from the front seat. Her eyes narrowed at her phone before she slowly lifted her gaze toward me with a murderous expression that made my stomach drop.

“What?” I asked, my voice coming out smaller than intended. I'd commented that the pictures were amazing. What the hell did I do wrong?

But then, Teagan turned in her seat, grinning. Now I was even more confused and was about to say so when Teagen spoke.

“Raven… you are all over social media right now.”

She held up her phone.

A sports gossip account had posted a short clip and several photos from the morning. The main image showed Lyall’s strong arms catching me from my near fall while I looked up at him, completely dazed.

The lighthearted headline above it read:

Captain Wolf to the Rescue: Football’s Swoon-Worthy Moments Strike Again at Cowboys Camp.

The short caption called it a harmless, funny fan moment that proved even when he wasn’t on the field, Captain Wolf couldn’t escape making fans weak in the knees.

It was playful, innocent, and completely harmless. But my face still burned with embarrassment. I wanted the leather seat to swallow me whole because I knew the truth.

That moment hadn’t felt cute to me. Teagan laughed brightly.

“This is amazing for you! Look at how many likes it already has. You’re the one who ended up getting a moment with him after all.”

But the friend’s voice sliced through the excitement. “How are you okay with this, Teagan?” Her expression hardened. “I told her not to embarrass us, and now her little fainting stunt stole the entire spotlight.”

Teagan’s smile faltered. She glanced between us before shutting down and turning back toward the front without another word.

The silence in the car instantly became thick and awkward, and my stomach twisted. I was getting really tired of Teagan's friend.

I could see right through her now, the jealousy dripping from every word, the way she turned cruel the second attention shifted away from her.

She wasn’t just snobbish. She was a bully. And I wondered why Teagan put up with her. I opened my mouth to call her out, but her voice suddenly returned, sweet again, like she had flipped a switch.

“Anyway,” she said brightly, checking her phone, “I just confirmed our VIP passes for tonight. Y’all have to start thinking about what you’re going to wear.”

I blinked, confused, and Teagan jumped in quickly, clearly excited. “The Cowboys are hitting Poppy, a hot club in West Hollywood. She scored us VIP access through one of her connections. It’s going to be insane.”

Before I could stop myself, the question slipped out. “Am I… included?” I’d already noticed how her friend didn’t seem to like me. She hadn’t even wanted me at the training camp earlier. Why would she want me at an exclusive Hollywood club, sharing the spotlight?

Teagan turned in her seat again, still smiling. “Of course you’re included.” She looked at her friend, who still hadn’t responded. “You got us three passes, right?”