There was a brief pause, but Smith didn't bother hiding anything. He glanced at Lance. "How did you know I wasn't just here for vacation?"
From Lance's words and actions, it was clear that he had already seen through Smith's plans and had even come up with a better one.
Lance glanced at Smith through the rearview mirror, his expression meaningful. "So, are you? Really just here for vacation?"
Even without direct eye contact, Smith felt a bit guilty. He cleared his throat, turning his gaze to the window. "Miami is definitely a vacation paradise."
Smith didn't want to talk about it, and Lance didn't press. "Parties, parties, parties. If you want, from Monday to Sunday, morning to night, seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, you can always find a party."
Smith smiled too. "So, which party did you go to?"
Lance looked entirely straightforward. "Training parties. JJ will give you the craziest training party in the world, so exhausting that when you get home, you won't want to move a single finger."
Pfft.
Smith couldn't hold back his laughter. "Then what about you today?"
"Sorry, Captain, I only asked for three hours off. In a bit, I still have to go back to training, make up for the parts I missed, and maybe even do extra practice," Lance replied earnestly.
"Haha," Smith laughed heartily. But then he paused, realizing something, and his smile stiffened. "Oh, you're not joking."
Lance just smiled silently.
Smith blinked a few times. "So, you didn't get a break?"
Lance nodded. "Of course, we do. Every five days, we get a day off. But on our rest day, Sherlock and I train with swimming and yoga. If you're throwing a party, we'd be happy to take a break for an afternoon and evening."
Smith was stunned for a moment, trying to say something, but in the end, he just sighed.
"Wow."
This was off-season training. One could tell just by hearing it—they were sharpening their blades.
Smith couldn't help but sigh again.
"Wow."
Lance's eyes flashed with a smile. "Captain, you should stop sighing. My confidence and pride are already too much. If you keep going, it'll just keep inflating."
"Haha," Smith laughed out loud.
Amid the jokes and banter, Lance and Smith arrived at the restaurant they had reserved.
"Mr. Lance."
The restaurant manager was a blonde woman in her thirties, her well-tailored uniform hugging her curves perfectly. The moment she saw Lance, she recognized the young Super Bowl MVP and personally led them to a terrace seat.
Watching the graceful figure walk away, Smith looked at Lance and grinned.
Lance looked confused. "What's so funny?"
Smith chuckled. "I think she was checking you out... and with quite a bit of affection."
Lance laughed right away. "So, is that how you and Elizabeth met?"
Elizabeth Barry—Smith's wife. They'd been married for nine years, with two sons and a daughter.
Interestingly, Elizabeth used to be a cheerleader for the Oakland Raiders.
Whether it was the rivalry between the Raiders and the Chiefs or the cheerleader storyline, it was always worth a laugh. During the team's family days, the players never missed a chance to joke about it with Elizabeth.
Smith instantly caught the meaning behind Lance's words, pausing before his smile grew wider. "Whatever you heard from the team, it's all lies."
Lance shrugged. "Well, I'll be waiting for you to clear up the truth then."
Smith: ...
Seeing the playful grin in Lance's eyes, Smith couldn't help but shake his head.
Lance always knew how to toe the line just right. He didn't push further but instead looked around the restaurant. "Sorry, I don't know Miami that well—only two blocks, really. So, I asked Travis for some help."
"What do you think?"
They were seated on the terrace of a skyscraper's tenth floor. The view stretched out to the high-rises of the city and, far beyond, the sandy beach and the vast ocean. Surrounded by both modern buildings and natural scenery, the view was stunningly unique.
Kelsey had emphasized that the restaurant was by reservation only, and all guests were screened to avoid paparazzi and eavesdroppers.
Not just Lance—even Kelsey could sense that Smith's visit wasn't purely for vacation.
Smith followed Lance's gaze, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the city, the cars weaving through the concrete jungle, and then the open sky and sea stretching far into the horizon. It was a unique view—different from anything he'd seen in Kansas City, or even San Francisco.
"Travis does know how to enjoy life," Smith quipped lightly.
Glancing down at the menu, particularly at the outrageous prices, Smith nodded. "Definitely his style."
"Haha," Lance laughed out loud.
After they ordered, Smith took a deep breath. Although his expression still showed hesitation and struggle, he finally seemed ready to talk.
"Lance, do you think I should stay?"
Lance nearly choked on his own breath. "That direct? Not even a bit of lead-up?"
Smith chuckled. "You should already know all the background, right?"
Lance couldn't deny it. The Chiefs, like the Eagles, were facing a difficult decision, and anyone with a brain could see that.
Smith continued, "At last year's draft, the team chose a quarterback. That was the clearest signal they could send. You didn't have to be a genius to understand. I've been preparing for this day ever since. But now, things are different. I have more thoughts."
"So…"
Though his agent had already given him an answer—and couldn't understand why Smith wanted to ask Lance's opinion, even arguing with him over it—Smith still wanted to hear what Lance had to say.
It was a gut feeling. And it was trust.
And no matter the final decision, Smith believed he needed to tell Lance face-to-face. It was a matter of respect and camaraderie.
Lance could feel the weight of Smith's gaze, and he couldn't help but smile wryly. "Captain, you asking me this is just putting me on the spot, isn't it?"
Choosing between Smith and Mahomes?
Lance was caught in the middle.
Smith laughed heartily. "Haha, that was the goal. But, Lance, if you don't want to answer, doesn't that mean you already have an answer?"
Naturally, if Lance wanted to be polite, he would've immediately said "Smith," even if it was just lip service. But Lance had hesitated, which meant he had already leaned towards Mahomes.
Lance couldn't help but laugh. "Seems like we've all misjudged you. You can be sharp and forceful when you want to be, huh?"
Smith just smiled, not saying a word, because Lance still hadn't answered his question.
Smith was genuinely surprised.
Lance continued.
Smith looked at Lance—those eyes were clear and bright, filled with the spirit and swagger of youth. He still believed that with his own hands, he could change the world—
Being young was truly wonderful.
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Powerstones?
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