Page 12 of Flag On The Play
And tonight? I need both of them.
“Sounds fun,” Jules says, sliding her lipstick back into her bag. “See you Friday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Break a leg tonight.”
I change quickly, pretending like I’m not still seeing Finlay’s stupid face in my head. Years of therapy couldn’t have prepared me for that smug smirk making a comeback in my life. And let’s be honest, it's kinda hard to pretend he doesn’t exist when half the city worships his cleats.
I try to shake it off. It’s girls’ night. That takes priority.
But yeah, I peek around the curtain first.
Sue me, I’m a 25-year-old emotionally-stunted woman-child, and I own it.
The coast looks clear, so I make a beeline for the bar.
“You almost ready?” I ask Roxy, who’s currently pouring three shots with flair and zero patience.
“Nope. Slammed tonight. I need another hour at least,” she says, sliding the shots down the bar like a pro.
Ugh. Of course. Packed house, and I’m stuck in Finlay’s orbit.
“Oh, hey, your QB’s back,” she adds with a wicked grin.
“He’s notmyanything,” I snap. “And yes, unfortunately, I’m aware.”
She tells me about her interaction with him, about the $2K comment, and we both crack up. This is why I keep Roxy close. She brings chaos, vengeance, and glitter. She’d probably tattoo “Eat Shit” across Finlay’s forehead if I asked nicely.
“Thanks for that. I’m heading out before he thinks he’s invited to speak to me again,” I say, grabbing my bag.
“Tell Delaney I said hi. And if you do slap him, I wanna hear about it in vivid detail.”
“Deal.”
The second I step outside, the cool night air wraps around me. I tug my sweater tighter and start for the parking lot.
“Nova? Or do I need to call you, Lux, here?”
I freeze.
Blood boiling, breath hissing.
“You have to be kidding me.”
I turn, and there he is, Finlay Reed, leaning against the brick wall like he hung the fucking moon, wearing that smug, trademark grin that used to make girls weak in the knees. I’d rather be hit by a bus.
“What are you, stalking me now?”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I could’ve said the same when you waited outside the stadium.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Please. That was a one-time thing. I needed to return your stupid money, not bask in your glory.”
He moves closer, hands shoved in his pockets, all casual confidence and frustrating ease. “Relax, Nova. I just wanted to talk.”
“Oh, we’re on first names again?” I ask sweetly. “Because last I checked, you were throwing around Lux like it meant something.”
He exhales, clearly trying not to roll his eyes. “Look, we have a past?—”
“No, we don’t,” I cut in sharply. “We had amoment. I rejected you in high school, and you let your fragile quarterback ego turn it into a vendetta. That’s not a past, Finlay. That’s delusion.”
