Page 26 of Worth the Scandal
She’s leaning against a balcony railing, a red Solo cup in hand, hair falling over her face like a curtain. It’s blurry, kind of a group shot, but I know it’s her. I remember that damn cup. I remember how she laughed and told me not to tell her my name. I remember her exact words when I handed her water and she spat out vodka.
She smiled like it was the first time in weeks. And I didn’t know what I was doing I just knew I wanted to keep her smiling.
I scroll again. A video.
Scarlett dancing, wild and alive, swaying with Jen to an old R&B song like they had the world on a string. I remember watching her dance. Remember thinking: God, don’t fall for this girl. Don’t want something you can’t keep.
And then, like a total idiot, my thumb double-taps the screen.
The little red heart glows like a spotlight on my stupidity.
Fuck.
No.
No, no, no.
I accidentally liked a year-old post.
From before we knew each other’s names.
From before she found out I’m Coach Walker’s golden boy with a ghost behind my eyes.
I don’t even get the chance to consider unliking before the screen lights up with a notification.
1New Message – Scarlett Walker
Now who’s playing with fire, Mr. Hates Football…?
I sit up so fast I knock over the glass of water on my nightstand.
Your agent should give you a crash course in Instagram etiquette. Rookie move.
She sends another a second later.
Also… why didn’t you throw any stray passes at me today? Disappointed. I wore the team hat and everything.
A breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes.
I grin. Actual, real Cheshire Cat grin.
I was trying to avoid extra laps. Coach looked like he wanted to murder me yesterday.
Typing…
Besides, I couldn’t risk you thinking I was into you or anything. That’d be so unprofessional.
A beat. Then her reply:
Well lucky for you, I am a professional. And my agency currently has room for a Ridgeback on the books.
Maroon Management. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s the one with a really hot boss and strict policies against throwing footballs at her head.
Technically… it’s work if you meet me for a coffee to talk about management, right?
I rub the back of my neck, biting down a laugh. There she is.
Sneaky. You lured me in with the promise of caffeine and professionalism when we both know this is a trap.
