Synonym
28(1)

"And yet again the name 'Sylvia Mason' is making national headlines for what seems like the millionth time this month. The 18 year old just signed a five million dollar contract with Nike. The athlete is set to play in the Tokyo Olympics next year as this is the first time lacrosse is being played in a decade at the event. Nike released a statement saying 'We have been searching for the face of our new female empowerment campaign and another famous face for our Road to Tokyo campaign and Ms. Mason was the perfect fit. She's someone who exudes prestige, power, and strength making her the perfect role model to inspire younger girls to become the outspoken and daring version on themselves.' What do you think about this, guys?" The sports analyst asked his group of friends over the radio.

I had the podcast from the 7 a.m. ESPN news playing while I was making dinner with Finn. He was grating the zucchini while I seasoned the chicken breasts with chile powder, paprika, salt, and pepper.

Thankfully, John Wilson wasn't on this show. I did not need to hear him trash talk me again. Finn and I were having an extremely late dinner this monday night. We hadn't had time to eat earlier because we had to drop the Suburban off for an oil change and a tire rotation. Both Finn and I knew how to do it, we had both taken auto shop junior year, but we didn't have the time nor the tools at our apartment, they were all in CT so paying someone was just easier. Practice ended at 10 so it was currently 11 and we were just making dinner. All I can say is that 4:30am comes early.

"Good for her. If Nike is offering her five million then she'd be a fool not to take it because let's face it, what has she done? She's a damn good lacrosse player, I'm not even going to call that into question, but what puts her on the same level as LeBron or Phelps?" The man with a Long Island accent posed.

"Socially she's a role model. Mason's spoken out about women's rights to dozens of reporters, made statements on social media, and was even spotted with her boyfriend, lacrosse star Griffin Riley, at marches in D.C. before school started up. Let's not forget she is a rape survivor that went to court. That alone makes her someone to look up to and someone brands would want to sponsor." The third man said.

"Holy shit, Finn." I said in an exasperated voice.

"What?" He looked up at me and stopped grating the vegetables. Finn's brows were furrowed in worry.

A small smirk appeared on my face. "I think I finally found an ESPN reporter that likes me."

"You're an idiot" He laughed lightly, shaking his head while going back to making dinner. I moved behind him to the stove, placing the two chicken breasts in a sizzling cast iron skillet. The loud sound of ESPN could still be heard over the sound of fat frying.

"Exactly," Long Island man pointed out. "She's a millennial Social Justice Warrior. You don't see Emma Gonzalez doing Under Armor campaigns because let's face it; that's all Sylvia Mason is. She's a high school player who has no Olympics medals and had yet to even play in an NCAA game."

"Well that didn't last long." I muttered while handing Finn the salt and pepper. He mixed the zucchini with the salt before putting the shredded vegetable on a kitchen towel and squeezing it all of the juice out of it. We were both fans of a Zucchini grilled cheese recipe where the bread was made of zucchini, breadcrumbs, seasoning, and parmesan cheese. We were on an extremely low carb diet so we substituted bread crumbs with almond meal. "Can't please everyone, babe. Some people are just dicks." Finn said while putting the veggie pulp back in the bowl. I tossed him the package of almond meal, which Finn caught easily, before going into the fridge to get the parmesan. "Well you said it yourself, Joe. She is a damn good lacrosse player. Nike sees her as a way to make a splash and impact a new market of young girls and millennial women." The nice one countered.

"She's getting paid because she's on the Olympic team which is legal. We've talked about it before; this is the only time NCAA athletes can make money during their four years. That begs the age old question; should NCAA athletes be payed or allowed to get jobs off campus?" The host asked to the two men.

"Fuck yeah," Finn and I muttered at the same time, looking up and giving each other small smirks. I placed the cheese on the island before returning to flip the chicken.

"No way. They are getting a free education and exposure. That's payment enough." The nice guy responded in a heart beat.

"Why do the good ones always have something wrong with them?" I wondered out loud while placing the metal tongs on the counter top. "Or they're gay."

Finn snorted at my joke from behind me. "What? Are you trying to fuck Elliot from ESPN?"

"Not anymore, I'm not." I responded before I felt a sharp sting on my ass. It was smaller than a hand but it definitely felt like a whip, it would probably leave a mark. I yelped and practically jumped out of my skin in surprise. Spinning around to see Finn laughing to himself with a towel in his hand. "The hell was that for?!" I exclaimed while my hand went to my ass cheek.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only person you should be trying to fuck." He responded while trying to hide his shit eating grin.

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I rolled my eyes and scoffed, my ass still stinging. "How did even- I don't even want to know how you could do that so well." I changed my mind and turned back to the stove.

Finn chuckled while going back to mixing the bowl. "I'm a man of many talents."

"That's one way of putting it." I muttered to myself but it didn't escape Finn's ears.

"I can put it other ways too," he responded cockily from behind me. "I'm good at everything. I'm a natural at life. I am a pool of untapped potential. I-"

"Ego. Dial it down from Sociopath to narcissist."

Before he could respond, Joe's voice cut him off. "When does exposure pay your rent and give you food to eat? How does attending classes put gas in your car or savings in your bank? Schools like Maryland, Ohio, Uconn; they should be paying their star team's players. If your sports team is solely keeping the university in business, the players should be compensated. By not allowing them to get jobs, you're basically making their lives hell once they get out of college and have nothing in the bank. Not to mention they have no money to be social for four years."

"It must be nice to get paid to sit on the radio and talk circles about pointless shit all day." Finn wondered aloud. I took the chicken breasts off the stove and put them on the ceramic plate to rest. Finn switched spots with me to grill the zucchini patties.

I fished two glasses out of the overhead cabinet next to the metal sink and filled up two glasses half way with tap water, placing them on the counter. "To be fair; they did play sports and/or report on them for a good amount of time. When you're fifty we'll see if you're doing nearly as much work as when you were twenty five."

I slipped past Finn to the fridge and grabbed a yellow Gatorade and some American cheese from the cold cuts drawer. We just used it for more vegetables because we didn't eat deli meat. I ploped the package on the white counter next to the stove for Finn before returning to the glasses.

"Yeah but when I'm fifty I'm probably not going to be making 2 million dollars a year to repeat myself while fools like us listen to it on their miserable way to work in the morning."

"Maybe you'll be making 2.7 million dollars to tweet sexist things at 18 year old girls." I muttered while opening the orange plastic top of the bottle.

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"Is that a John Wilson jab I sense?"

"Damn right it is." I filled the rest of the glasses halfway with Gatorade. After practice having some extra electrolytes without all the sugar was good for you. I wasn't a fan of the taste of watered down juices, but both my coaches recommended it so we did it. "Although if you are tweeting sexist things about girls one third your age I'll probably divorce you." "Rightfully so."

"I want that in our wedding vows."

"Until death do us part, or until I become a derogatory Twitter grandpa.' It has a ring to it, I like it." Finn joked. My eyes were glued to his the way his back muscles rippled through his grey T-shirt as he put cheese on the food. I picked up my phone from the center of the counter and stoped the podcast, taking a picture of my sexy boyfriend.

I posted the picture to Instagram with the caption 'What more do you need in life when you have a hot man to make you food?' And have sex with you. But I didn't add that part. That was a little scandalous for even the queen of scandals. But I wasn't the only one thinking that because seconds later Sam commented 'and to fuck you'. What are friends for?

"We are going to need a lot of coffee tomorrow morning." I commented while Finn placed a plate of food in front of me, putting one of the chicken breasts next to the zucchini. I got two knives and forks from the utensil drawer and handed a set to Finn.

"You're telling me." He groaned. "It's going to be one of those 'study in the car' days."

"Jason isn't driving tomorrow," I reminded him. "Corvette holds two people. Jason's taking his old beat up car. I'd be surprised if he even made it to DC in that thing."

Finn let out a husky groan before dropping his head on the cold countertop. "Fuck my life."

Lord help us survive this week.