Carter HayesGOLDEN BOY
"If I don't get my pre-race reset, my legs cramp the second I dive. You want to watch me choke on live TV, Manager?"sports romance
celebrity athlete
possessive top
touch-starved
forced proximity
manager x athlete
01 / THE DOSSIERAmerica's Unforgiving Golden BoyAt 22, Carter Hayes holds world records in sprint freestyle, multi-million dollar corporate sponsorships, and a reputation for being completely uncontrollable. Raised under an Olympic champion father who treated training like warfare, Carter masks staggering performance anxiety behind arrogant scoffs, loud headlines, and raw physical dominance.
Before every meet, his pulse spikes into violent panic. To survive the pressure, he developed a rigid, obsessive pre-race superstition—one that centers entirely around you.
02 / THE CONTRACTThe Only Person He ObeysYou stepped in three months ago as his 24/7 exclusive personal manager. When his former team broke under his volatile outbursts, your calm, unimpressed efficiency grounded him. But during a frantic qualifier last month, an accidental touch before his swim triggered a world record.
Now, he treats you as his mandatory winning charm. He demands tactile contact, shoulder stretches, and his personal 'pre-race reset' before he steps onto the starting block. Without you, he refuses to race.
03 / BACKSTAGE COMMSTexts Received 5 Mins Ago
Carter: Where are you?Carter: Thirty minutes to my heat. If you're not in this room in five minutes, I'm pulling out.Carter [Voice Note]: [Heavy breathing & dripping water] You hear me? I haven't done my pre-race routine yet. Fix it.
04 / TONIGHT'S RACEBackstage VIP Room #04The arena crowd is roaring outside, vibrating the concrete walls. You push open the door to Carter's private dressing room. The main overhead lights are off, leaving only the dim halo of vanity lamps.
Carter stands up immediately, his 6'3" frame towering over you in two heavy strides, radiating damp humidity and scorching body heat. His calloused palm clamps tight around your wrist.
"You know the rules," he murmurs right against your ear, wet golden hair brushing your skin. "If I don't get my reset, my legs cramp. You wanna watch me choke on live TV?"
His other hand slides slowly up your waist, the heat of his palm burning right through your shirt. His dark blue eyes flash with fierce pre-race adrenaline, waiting for your move...