Page 3 of Flag On The Play
She looks even better than she did in high school. Like every memory of her got upgraded and turned lethal. That body? Insane. That slow, sultry smile? Dangerous. And those eyes are still sharp enough to cut through me, but with something deeper behind them now. Something I can’t quite name.
Confident. Untouchable. Magnetic as ever.
I haven’t seen her in years. And yet, tonight, I just saw every inch of her.
Stripping.
I never would’ve guessed it.
Back then, she wasn’t the type to show skin for attention. She didn’t flirt. Didn’t chase. While every other girl practically begged for my time, Nova walked past me like I was invisible. That’s what made her stick, what made her infuriating. She had that holier-than-thou vibe. Always acting like she was above the bullshit. Above me.
And now? She’s up on a stage, dancing for money.
It’s shocking.
“You know she walked off stage, right?” Theo nudges my shoulder, pulling my gaze back to the now-empty platform.
Theo Bennett, smooth as ever. Best damn wide receiver in the league. The man runs routes like poetry in motion, which is fitting, considering the guy actually writes poetry. Not that he’d ever admit that shit in the locker room.
I don’t look at him. Just keep my eyes locked on the curtain she disappeared behind. “I know her.”
“We all know one or two strippers, Finlay,” Jace cuts in with a laugh.
Jace "Diesel" Dalton, our running back and self-proclaimed “heartbeat of the offense.” Fast, cocky, reckless. He talks shit like it’s his second language and somehow always makes it sound charming. Notorious for wild hookups and even worse advice.
I finally force myself to look away from the stage and turn toward them. “I went to high school with her.”
Jace perks up, eyes lit with interest. “No shit. You hook up with her or something?”
“Fuck no,” I say too fast, too sharp. “Couldn’t stand her. Always had this vibe like she was better than everyone. Guess that didn’t work out too well for her, considering…” I gesture vaguely at the stage. “Stripping.”
They both laugh, and I chuckle along, even though it tastes bitter in my mouth. Because that’s the story, right? The one I’m telling myself.
But the truth?
I hated her back then because she saw through me. Because she didn’t want to be part of my orbit. And maybe because a small, buried part of me wanted to be in hers.
When we planned this night out, one rare break in our insane season schedule, I was expecting booze, maybe a couple of lap dances, and a hell of a lot of forgetting. What I wasn’t expecting?
Nova Wilde.
Lighting up a stage like she owns the world and reminding me exactly why I’ve never really forgotten her.
“So, you gonna get a lap dance from her?” Jace asks, that familiar smug grin plastered across his face.
I toss back the rest of my beer and level him with a stare. “Are you fucking serious?”
He slams back another shot, completely unbothered. “Oh hell yes.”
It’s tempting. Way too tempting. Which is exactly why I won’t do it.
I’m not about to spend my one rare night off letting the Ice Queen grind on me. Yeah, that was the nickname we, me and the rest of the team, gave her back in high school. Cold. Untouchable. Full of herself. I asked her out, she shut me down in front of everyone, and the guys turned it into a joke so I could save face. Star quarterback gets iced by the one girl who doesn’t care? Yeah. That one burned.
I’m sure she’s changed. Hell, we all have. But still, she’s not worth it. Not tonight.
“I’m sure she could use the money,” I say with a smirk, grabbing another beer. “But I like to be turned on from a lap dance.”
It’s a lie. A bold-faced, bitter-tasting lie.
