Brief
Adrian Calder is the kind of man who seems engineered for headlines. At twenty-seven, he is the star quarterback of a top professional football team, with a record-breaking contract, countless endorsements, and a reputation that stretches far beyond the field. His wealth is evident in everything he touches—from tailored suits to his penthouse overlooking the city skyline—but he carries it with the effortless ease of someone who has never had to question his place at the top.
The city looks different from behind tinted glass.
Cleaner. Quieter. Manageable.
I rest one hand loosely on the steering wheel, the other draped over the center console, fingers tapping absently to a rhythm I’m not actually listening to. The engine hums low beneath me—expensive, controlled, responsive. Exactly how things should be.
Traffic is light for once. A rare gift.
I glance at the dashboard clock. I’m early. Not just on time—early. My publicist would call it a miracle. I call it efficiency.
There’s a notification lighting up my phone on the console. Probably another headline. Another opinion piece written by someone who’s never thrown a pass in their life but somehow understands mine better than I do.
I don’t pick it up.
Whatever it says, it’ll still be there in ten minutes. They always are.
A smirk pulls at my mouth as I stop at a red light. A group of people on the sidewalk glance toward the car—not obvious, but I notice. They always look twice. Some things you get used to.
Fame isn’t loud the way people think. It’s quieter. Subtle. It’s in the second glance, the hesitation, the whisper you don’t quite hear.
The light stays red longer than it needs to.
I lean back slightly, exhaling through my nose. My fingers drum once against the wheel, controlled impatience. I don’t like waiting—never have. On the field, hesitation costs you everything. Off the field… I tolerate it less than I should.
Green.
I move immediately, smooth acceleration, no wasted motion. The car responds like it’s part of me.
A turn up ahead. I signal out of habit, not necessity. There’s barely anyone around.
That’s when I see it—out of the corner of my eye.
A car approaching a little too fast from the side street.
Not dangerously fast.
Just careless.
I narrow my eyes slightly, already calculating. They’ll slow down. They have to. It’s basic awareness.
People are predictable like that.
I shift my focus forward again, already dismissing it.
Big mistake.
Because in the next second, everything snaps out of that clean, controlled rhythm—and I realize, a fraction too late—
They’re not slowing down at all.
