Page 14 of The Red Zone
It must’ve been a tough practice, by the looks of it. Gosh, wouldn’t a bath sound so… refreshing after that?
When I last saw October about seven-years ago, at his high school graduation party, he had less defined muscles and only had one small tattoo of a compass on his chest, just above his heart. Needless to say, a lot about him had changed physically in the near decade since then, and it was a bit unsettling how attractive he’d become in that time.
He really did look good. Older. Bigger. More mature.
Handsome. Devastatingly handsome.
Although, I’d rather be sucked into a hell dimension for the rest of eternity before admitting any of that to his face.
“I take it the showers were broken at the gym today?” I quirked a brow at him.
“Why? Is this your way of inviting yourself to join me?” He tipped his head in the direction of the outdoor shower which sat between the pool house and the fence.
“Quite the contrary, Toby boy. So, tell me. How’s the season treating you so far?”
“Back to using my old nickname, and asking me about football…” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I told you… I’m turning over a new leaf,” I said triumphantly. “You know, righting my wrongs. Making amends. Things the saints would rejoice over.” I smiled, squaring my shoulders and sitting up a little straighter in my seat. “You never answered my question. How’s football?”
“Fine. How’s reviving your modeling career?”
Aaaand that was the tipping point of this conversation.
My former boss was willing to pay the tabloidscopiousamounts of money to come up with out-of-pocket headlines about my time in the industry. The hard and fast truth was that none of his bullshit lies were true. Yet, every time I’ve made a statement contradicting them, my words were “conveniently” misconstrued.
The man had it out for my career. My business. All because he couldn’t handle the world getting wind of the fact that he stole from teenage models to pad his pockets.
Anyone with access to the internet had likely come across something to the tune of me being a “troublesome person to work with” or saw a statement from another model claiming that I “frequently got in arguments with peers”. Clearly, October was included in that crowd.
And much to my demise, he would stop at nothing to remind me of the bullshit lies being spread by Gordon and his minions.
“Enough about me…” I deflected with a fake-as-shit smile, wanting to avoid all talk of this topic. “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”
“I thought we were done talking about you?”
I rolled my eyes, although he couldn’t see it through my sunglasses.
“Happy birthday, March,” he muttered after a beat, a coy smile pulling on his lips. “Did you get everything you wanted for your birthday?”
“The day is still young, but there isone thingI was hoping for…” I trailed off while pushing myself out of the lounger to stand on solid ground. “Maybe you could help me?”
“With what, exactly?”
“You see… there’s been something I’ve wanted to do for a while.”
“Mhmm. I know taking a seat in my lap has been on the list for a few years. Maybe next year will be the one where you finally get your wish.”
“Please,” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest to accentuate my cleavage. Taking a step closer to him, I watched as he trailed his eyes over me, uncertainty flickering in his face. A flirtatious smile curled at the corners of my mouth as I tookone morestep closer to him. Only this time, just as I suspected, he took one step backward… setting my plan into motion.
“No, I want something… better.”
“What could be better than—”
“Stop talking.” I pressed my pointer finger to his lips to shut him up.
“That’s always been your problem. You never let anyone else get any words out before you cut them off and divert the conversation to benefit yourself.”
“Quite a bold statement coming from you.” He peered down at me with a popped brow. I tried schooling the growing scowl on my face, but I knew he’d already caught on. “What? Are you going to try to convince me I’m wrong?”
