Page 109 of Fashionista's Playbook

He deserved more than a phone call. Vin was right.

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Getting a flight hadn’t been easy. I’d finagled frequent flier points, and jumped through more hoops than I could count. But by the time I stepped off the plane the airport was empty—no doubt everyone was already at the game or in front of the television. The Outlaws were still in their infancy by league standards. Making it to the championship was a big deal—a testament to Travis and his team’s abilities.

A dream team, people were saying.

I had learned more about football in the past months with Travis than I had in my entire life. His childhood dream coming true after all the trauma was huge. That he was experiencing it, alone, broke my heart.

My sneakers squeaked on the floor as I flew past baggage claim and toward the pick-up area. The televisions stashed throughout the waiting areas all showed the game’s opening festivities. I could make it on time, maybe.

Several private ride sharing services had cars waiting at the curb. With no passengers jockeying for the first in line, I jogged for the closest one and opened the back door. “Can you get me to the City Stadium?”

“The games almost started. You’re la—” The older man in the driver’s seat started, peering over the rim of his glasses.

“My boyfriend’s playing.” I blurted, tossing my carry-on in the back and climbing into the passenger seat.

“Really? Who’s he play for?” The salt and pepper haired driver put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb with urgency to match the blood that pounded in her veins.

“Outlaws.” I was breathing heavily from the jog across the airport.

“Nice. I got satellite radio—” he reached for the touchscreen as we hit the highway “—probably find the game somewhere, see how they’re doing. I’ve got it recording at home.”

“Thanks, I’d like to hear how Travis is doing.”

“Madera?” He perked up.

“Yeah.”

“Best tight-end in the league.”

When he held out his fist, I smiled and tapped my knuckles against his.

“I’ll get you as close to the front door as I can, for fifty bucks, kid.”

I pulled out a hundred. “I’ll give you all of this if I can make it by halftime.”

From the radio, the Outlaws were down by ten.

“Buckle up, I’m on it.”

And he was, pulling into the parking lot and through the gates on two wheels in less than fifteen minutes. The smooth-talking driver got us as close as the overflow lot. I jumped out, grabbed my bag, and ran. By the time I made it into the arena, I was panting and sweating. Biggest workout I’d had since I left Travis’ house.

At the turnstiles, security stopped me. “Lady, you can’t take that in there.” The burley guy with a Cajun accent nodded to my bag.

I thrust it at him. I’d made most of the clothes in it, I could make more. “Keep it.”

“Wait, you can’t leave that there. Ma’am! Ma’am!”

When I glanced back, as I half ran, half walked they were staring at me as if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.

Skipping the elevator, I charged up the stairs and into the bowels of the stadium—the last notes of some pop diva’s halftime show echoing through the halls.

I’d never seen so many people in my life. I was jostled one direction and then the other, fighting the flow, as the crowd moved from within the stadium and toward the concourse and bathrooms.

By the time I found my seat, I was trembling from exertion and the fear of rejection that settled upon me. I was putting myself out there in a way I’d never done before. But I loved him, I had to.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

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