Page 48 of Fashionista's Playbook

Moriah, soft and smelling nice, cuddled against me. In a world where everything around me was hard, brutal, and physical…she was the light that softened everything, made it brighter and calmed me.

“It was Florida,” she chuckled. “You would have never worn it.”

“Truth. I didn’t own a coat until I was grown.”

The show progressed, to the same jock luring the young woman into the field house for a humiliating climax that pissed me off as much as Vin’s smart mouth had. I pushed my annoyance down, though it simmered just under the surface.

“In high school, there was no way in hell I was getting in a shower in the fieldhouse—by the way, the locker room for the football team usually isn’t in the school, it's at the field. And the showers are nasty. I changed and went home to shower, most of us did. And nobody was hanging around after the game in high school, except maybe our families. The jersey chasers didn’t show up until college.”

“You mean, like the podcast?”

“You listen to it?” I’d heard snippets, but I ignored the gossip as much as possible. There were guys, like Clutch, who liked to party a lot and kept up with it.

“I mean, I listened to a few. I was trying to find something that would help me learn more about what you do every day—commentary and stuff. I did, I found a few other podcasts too, but the Jersey Chaser woman slipped in there a few times.” She was rattling on in that way that she did when she was nervous.

“She ever talk about me?” She froze against me, and I chuckled. “Other than Vin’s antics, I mean.”

“No. Mostly she focused on the rookie running back, Wade? And Clutch’s dating life.” She plucked at the threads on the seam of the pillow.

“That’s not surprising.” What was, was why she listened to it. “Researching football is all part of the job, right?” I teased.

She ducked her head and jabbed her elbow into my side. The movement made it easy to drop her hand and wrap my arm around her. Holding her put the shit with Vin farther away.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to watch this.” She scolded me, but with good humor.

Life could be easy like this. If only having her pressed against me didn’t immediately make me think of the way she felt beneath me. Or if I could settle. Mostly I wanted to jump up and move around—do something other than sit still and think.

Sex or football would work. But after what Moriah did or didn’t hear, the first wasn’t an option. And practice was hours away still.

I tried to follow the show. “There’s no way she’s that stupid.” The anger I thought I’d pushed away was right back, the second the female lead followed the idiot jock down the dark hallway.

“She’s a teenager.”

“Yeah, but a douche like that—it's obvious he’s playing her.”

She moved away from me and her eyes narrowed.

“I’m betting as a teenager you had more confidence in your little finger than she does.” There was passion in her voice, leaving the words warbled a bit.

“Come on, they’re assholes. You don’t have to be confident to see that. Teenage guys are pricks, more worried about dick measuring than being good to people. She’s gotta be smarter than that. No way is this realistic.”

“Even smart people can have low self-esteem.Especiallyteenage girls.”

“Really? You mean to tell me a smart woman—like you—would listen to some bullshit from an asshole like that guy? I’m not buying it.”

“Actually, Idid.”

She stormed out, but not before I caught the shine of tears in her eyes.

“Fuck.”

I was chasing after her before my brain made the decision to do it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Moriah

Memories, at times, were more powerful than the actual incident.

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