Page 37 of Fashionista's Playbook

The flash of anger was so fast it was almost violent, and left a predatory gleam in my brother’s eyes as his lips peeled back to reveal teeth. “Fuck Lincoln Mercer and this damn team. Travis, I just wanted you to have a good time.” His voice lowered. “I’m worried about you.”

I was as good at reading through his bullshit as I was at blocking for another receiver. The only thing he was worried about was himself and this date.

“Man, she even said there wouldn't be any strings. All Kari wants is a night with you.”

“Not happening.” I shut off the television and dropped the remote onto the coffee table with more force than necessary. It skittered across the smooth surface and stopped in front of where Vin sat. “Just tell her she’s not my type.”

I walked out of the room. I didn’t give a shit what he told Tatum. I wanted no part of any of it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Moriah

Waiting in the green room reserved for family and friends was uncomfortable. I didn’t know anyone; I wasn’t a girlfriend or anything. I was his assistant. I half expected Vincent to pop out of one of the doorways and explain to me how I didn’t belong.

Then there was the increasing anxiety because I hadn’t seen Travis since…

I blushed just thinking about it.

“You’re being weird.” Rumer bounced her foot beside me.

“What do you mean?” I looked frantically around for someone that could help me avoid this conversation. There was no one. I hadn’t told Rumer about what had happened with Travis because, well, I hadn’t even talked to Travis about it.

I’d only seen him in passing, because he’d spent most of the week preparing for the game. And then we’d had this charity that I’d been finalizing the paperwork for and planning the shopping event for the week before Thanksgiving.

Who was I kidding? I’d been avoiding him.

Rumer snapped her fingers in my face. “That. You’ve been a space cadet since we got here. And I don’t know about you, but a professional football game is a big ass production—lights and music and dancing, not to mention the game itself, all with more than a hundred thousand people, and you’ve not been present for any of it.” She said without taking a single breath. When she finally did it was like the entire room was in brighter focus. “What’s going on?”

“Just…” I glanced at the cuticles that I’d destroyed this week and fought to not tap my foot in rhythm to Rumer’s. Seeing a guy that I saw every day shouldnotbe this big of a deal.

When I cast a quick glance her way, she was waiting with the patience of an annoyed bulldog. Only, way prettier.

“I made out with Travis the other night.”

Her eyes widened and she whistled low. “Well, how was it?” No judgment, no condemnation.

“Amazing.” I fell back against the wall behind us and laughed a little. All the tension and angst faded and were replaced by giddy excitement. “Stupid sexy, the whole thing. And…”

“Please let there be more.” She leaned closer.

“There’s not really.” There was, but I would keep that much to myself. “I’ve been avoiding him. I don’t want him thinking I do this sort of thing with all my bosses, or who knows what.”

Her honeyed laugh made me smile in spite of myself.

“Moriah, girl, get over it. A guy like that knows exactly how life works and I’m betting you’re not his first lover.”

“Whoa.” I waved two hands between us. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Yet.” She said with sultry innuendo.

Around us, players had begun to filter through the doors. They embraced their families, spoke with friends. Even those without the multi-million-dollar contracts were wearing designer suits. And some, flashy outfits made just for them.

I sighed. One day, maybe I’d have them sporting designs of mine. Maybe that’s why I let Vincent’s attitude bother me. Deep down, I felt like I was using Travis.

Rumer hopped up beside me. “Hey, I see my friend Monica, she’s one of the choreographers for the cheerleaders. I’m going to go say hi. You good?”

“Of course.” I waved her off, even though every part of me wanted to scream for her to stay. My small, bouncy friend was a safety net in this giant room where people dressed in outfits that cost more money than I’d made all of last year.

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