Page 2 of Fashionista's Playbook

He wrapped an arm around both of them and led them into the building. Behind them, his motley crew of jock friends followed with their dates.

Everything was going to be okay. Elise was just upset, maybe drunk. She and Steven had been fighting, and Elise was mad he hadn’t proposed yet.

Jonathan tossed his arm around Moriah’s shoulders and led her into the double doors. The hallways were lined with streamers and sparkling lights. There was a red carpet, covered in what looked to be multi-colored rose petals and teacher chaperones ushering them forward.

“To Pigmo!” Steven shouted from somewhere behind her.

Someone sneaked from between the big double doors to the gym, saw them, then ducked back inside. It was dark, but she thought she recognized the underclassmen football player. A little too skinny, gawky, but nonetheless on the team.

It’s not like they were any good. The team had lost more than it had ever won. Another reason to let them have their fun on this night. This very special night.

“You ready, boys?” Jonathan asked at the door, turning back to the rest of their group.

“Let’s do it!” was the chorus shouted back.

Jonathan pushed the doors open and everything around Moriah exploded with color and something so much worse.

She turned to Jonathan, mortified, and he was laughing. A big, wide grin as he hooted soundlessly “Pigmo, Pigmo!” and punched the air.

All around her, students wore blond wigs and pig noses.

Her body went cold, her hands clammy. She wrapped her arms around herself as if to hide, though everyone stared at her.

On the screen where the slideshow of the schoolyear should play, were short video clips of parties and bonfires where the stories of Pigmo had been created. Of her chasing the boys to sniff their groins and hump their legs. Awful stories she’d laughed at, like she did on the screen now—so eager to be wanted and accepted.

It had all been about her. Moriah was the Pigmo.

Shaking, she turned to her sister. Elise looked down at her feet, while her boyfriend doubled over with laughter. Most everyone was laughing. But worse were those around the edges, who looked on in shock and shifted in discomfort. No one, not even the teachers, spoke up.

She was all alone.

Moriah turned and pushed through them, as Jonathan and others tried to stop her, pulling her to the dance floor. She shrugged them off.

“I want Pigmo’s first dance!” Steven yelled over the noise.

But Elise smacked his hand away, the one small mercy she gave her sister, and allowed Moriah to escape through the crowd. She lost her shoes along the way, too clumsy on the heels to run.

She found the teacher’s lounge, leaned against the door and clenched her eyes tight, fighting to breathe. In the hallway, people called her name. She locked the door and stumbled to the phone.

If she called her parents, that would only make things worse. They’d force her and Elise to work it out, to talk about it. Therewas no talking about this. Never had hurt and hatred filled so much space in her heart.

Moriah dialed. When her grandfather’s smooth voice filled the line, the tears finally came. “Grandpa, can you come get me?”

Of course he could, he always would.

What’s happening Jersey Chasers? I hope everyone is staying cool this summer. Especially since the season opener is coming, and I’m about to heat it up for you. My minions at training camp have caught a good look at the newest additions to our Texas Outlaws, and y’all …meow.

Looks like the sexy man in a suit—GM Lincoln Mercer—has signed the tightest of the league’s tight ends. I’m talking about the tall, tattooed, bad boy variety.

Now, I heard Tightest of the Tight Ends is coming in hot and single this season. Which means every jersey-chasing eye is going to be on him. Keep in mind, ladies, that this one has a past that will break your heart and baggage like nobody’s business.

He and the man upstairs have history going back to those college days—where this tight end was booted when his brother accepted monetary gifts to sway his decision to play at a certain school. I wonder how much sway was given to get him here to be an Outlaw? Sounds like he’ll fit right in, as long as he doesn’t tote in the family drama like one of his Versace bags.

CHAPTER ONE

Travis

I rolled the nagging tension from my shoulders and prowled around the large, sparsely furnished living area of my new home in San Antonio, Texas. Not a living room; like everything else in my life, it was way too big for that.

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