by Adams, Sarah
Looking at her over my shoulder, I smile and wink. “You should be.”
She’s frozen for a second and I think, Derek, you magnificent devil, it worked. But then her eyes widen and she bursts out laughing. “Did you just WINK at me?!”
Okay, so apparently winking goes into the non-sexy category for Bree. She roasts me all the way out the door, and I will murder Derek at practice tomorrow.
It’s a little after five and I’m rushing up the sticky stairs of my apartment building, out of breath and maybe wheezing a little bit. Probably the effects of living in a moldy apartment for too long.
When I make it to my floor, I stop and frown at the sight in front of me. Dylan is sitting on the floor surrounded by what looks like enough luggage for a week-long cruise. Five suitcases stand around him along with a pile of garment bags draped over top. How did he get all of these up here? I look behind me wondering if there’s a secret elevator everyone’s been keeping from me. But when I see that his chest is heaving just as much as mine, I realize he hauled all this up himself. Poor thing.
“Dylan?” I ask, stepping closer, wondering if I’m going to have to resuscitate him.
His head shoots up and he smiles wide despite his labored breathing. “Hi Dimples! You’re late!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, still in a daze at seeing him here. I guess this is what Nathan meant by Leave it up to me. “Traffic was nuts today. Here, let me help you up. Also, I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s a good chance you caught an STD sitting on that floor.”
He shrieks and jumps up without my help. “Am I going to have to burn these clothes?”
“It’s probably for the best if you do.”
“Oh my gosh. Why do you live here?” He looks around like cockroaches might be crawling all around him. Actually, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise if they were.
I laugh and turn to unlock my apartment. “It’s a little thing called money. You see, I don’t have much of it.”
“Umm, you’re basically dating a bank. He probably has more money than a bank actually. Go move in with him! Here, I’ll help you. We’ll pack your things and move right now.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Dylan that Nathan is just my friend and I don’t want his financial help when I’m cut off by the sight of my apartment. Dylan steps in behind me, pulling two of his suitcases, and gasps.
“Holy flowers, Batman! I’m assuming, Ms. I-don’t-have-any-money, that you didn’t go out and buy yourself all of these magical bouquets?”
I shake my head slowly, speechless. There are dozens of bouquets filling my living room. Big glorious pink and green blooms everywhere. I don’t have a favorite flower because it’s too hard to narrow it down to one, but I do have a favorite flower color combination. Apparently, I’ve told Nathan this at some point. And he remembered. Pink and green. My stomach clenches tight.
“You’ve got a note over here.” Dylan is already picking it up and opening the card like we’ve been besties for twenty years and don’t keep secrets from each other. I snatch it out of his nosey hand with a reprimanding look and turn away to read it privately.
I hope you don’t mind, but I found a way to make your apartment smell better.
Be by at seven to pick you up.
-Nathan
My heartbeat is fierce, and it’s all I can do to not squeal like an excited little piggy in my living room. What is happening to me? What is happening to us? Nathan and I have been friends for a million years and he’s never once bought me flowers…and definitely never bought me a whole flower shop before. My mind races wondering what this is. What does this mean? That hope Lily was talking about blooms in my chest unbidden.
But I’m too scared to fully dive into it. He’s probably just trying to get me in the mood to fake a date tonight. Put hearts in my eyes. Unfortunately, they were already there even before any of this—and it’s making it much harder to not allow those feelings to escalate. And yesterday in my office…
“Lock it down, Bree.”
“Did you say something?” Dylan asks.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
He gasps suddenly. “There’s some sort of sticky goop on my butt! What do you think it is? Actually, no, I don’t want to guess. I want you to move apartments. Right now.”
I laugh and tug him with me to my bedroom where I pull out a pair of sweatpants and toss them at him. “Here, you can wear these.”
“Ugh, thank you!”
I leave the room so Dylan can get changed, and when he comes back in the living room in my light grey jogger sweatpants, he points to his rear end. “Umm, ma’am, these say Juicy on the booty.”
I strangle a laugh with a flower pressed to my nose where I was snorting it like an addict. “I know.”
“You didn’t have anything else that would fit me?”
“Oh, I definitely did.”
He crinkles his nose and steals a pillow from my couch to toss at me. “And to think I shopped all morning to find you the perfect dress. I should have just found you a t-shirt that had Skank written across it.”
“You shopped for me?” I ask with big round puppy dog eyes.
He tosses me a look over his shoulder as he goes to unzip the bag draped over my couch that holds several GORGEOUS dresses. “What did you think these were? Body bags? Like I just carry around my victims wherever I go?”
“Should I be scared that you thought of that so quickly?”
His only answer is pulling out a long floor-length gown and holding it up with proud eyes. “Okay, so I didn’t know your exact size, and I was a little skeptical to trust your man to accurately know it…but it looks like he was right! This is going to fit you like a glove.”
I take the dress from Dylan and look at the tag. Sure enough, it’s the right size. I’m terrified that Nathan knew that, because I’ve definitely never told him. Another thing I find is a price tag that makes me choke. “Please tell me this is not the real price of this gown!”
He shrugs and busies himself with unpacking those suitcases that, turns out, are full of designer hair and makeup products. Sephora has exploded in my living room, and it’s a beautiful sight. Lily would be so jealous. I text her a picture like the annoying, gloating little sister that I am.
“Whatever you want to believe. All I know is Nathan had me buy you fifteen dresses to pick from, all totaling up to the price of my house. On top of all that, he paid me my full on-set day rate, andwhydoyoulooklikethat?”
I put my face in my hands because this is bad. This is really, really bad. Everything I’ve ever avoided with Nathan is all happening in one rushing avalanche. Fancy public date. Big gestures. My own entourage. High-priced gifts. It’s too much, and it’s all going to end just as quickly for me as it does for all his other girlfriends. Except unlike those other women, I won’t miss all of this—I’ll miss him.
Dylan comes over and puts his hand on my back, rubbing a circle just like Lily would. “What’s wrong? This is not the reaction I thought I’d get when I told you your boyfriend bought you thousands of dollars’ worth of dresses and hired the best in the business to style you tonight.” He says that last bit with a grin.
I want to tell Dylan the truth, want to tell him none of this is real, we’re faking it, and I’ve been avoiding jumping into this life with Nathan for six years because I never wanted to experience it—never wanted to enjoy it or get used to it because it will hurt so much more when it’s just a memory. And yes, I do enjoy this side of him too. I’m a living, breathing human, so of course I like to be spoiled by a celebrity. Who wouldn’t? But I can’t tell Dylan any of that because I signed a very scary-looking non-disclosure agreement promising I wouldn’t tell a soul. I’ve already told Lily, so I can’t afford any more slipups.
I settle for part of the truth. “I have trouble receiving things like this from Nathan. It feels like a lot.”
“Well don’t! He clearly has enough money to spare and wants to dote on you a little. Let hi
m. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll return all the dresses you don’t want.”
I lower my hands. “That does make me feel better, actually. Thank you.”
“Good. Now, just try to let yourself enjoy this moment! Come admire my incredible styling skills and pick a dress for tonight. It’s not like you’re going to have to live in it for the rest of your life or turn into a real housewife of Long Beach. It’s just a fun little night. Just put one glittering high heel in front of the other.”
I take a deep breath. He’s right. It’s just a night. I’m getting ahead of myself. Nothing has to change; I just need to think of this as a fun game of make-believe. Pretend. It’s okay to enjoy something when you know it’s nothing but a game. Easy-peasy. I can do this.
For the next ten minutes, Dylan and I go through each of the dresses he selected, and it’s seriously hard to choose my favorite because they are all so beautiful. In the end, I pick one that reminds me of bubbling champagne. Tonight is not quite as fancy as an award show, but it’s also not casual enough for my Juicy sweatpants. My dress is a tea-length bodycon with long sleeves, a sheer glittering overlay, and a champagne-colored silk lining. The most glorious part is the back. The silk lining scoops low down my spine, and the sheer overlay dotted with fine diamond-looking sequins spans across my back. It’s sexy and classy at the same time. My mom won’t gasp in horror if she sees it in the tabloids tomorrow, which is always a perk.
For my hair, Dylan wants to leave it down. He adds all sorts of products until my curls are sleek, shining, and springy. He parts my hair far on the right side and pins the other half away from my face with a diamond-studded clip. I’m really hoping those diamonds are fake. He gives me a soft eyeshadow look with fierce cat-eye eyeliner and a nude pink lip.
When I look in the mirror, decked out in a glamorous gown, designer makeup, and hair styled within an inch of its life, I still see me, and it makes my heart swell. At least I don’t feel like I’m putting on a whole different skin to go with Nathan to this event. Everything else might be fake, but not me.
Dylan pops up over my shoulder, and a big cheesy smile stretches across his face. “I stuffed the lipstick tube in your purse, so when Nathan ruins it, you’ll have more.”
“Nathan is not going to—” I stop myself, because yeah, any boyfriend who saw me like this would definitely ruin my lipstick. “…be able to keep his hands off me. Good call.”
“Just don’t let him touch your hair! It’s perfect and if he messes it up, I will destroy him.”
An image of slender Dylan in my Juicy sweatpants challenging mountainous Nathan to a boxing match pops into my head, and honestly it’s exactly the kind of distraction I need right now. My hands are shaking and I feel like I’m going to puke.
“Thank you for all of this, Dylan. You did an incredible job.”
He waves me off. “You’re an easy canvas. And I should be the one thanking you. Your boyfriend is paying me more than I should allow. In fact, I feel a little dirty accepting it.” He pooches his lips out in thought before a mischievous smile curves them. “Okay, I’m over it. I’m going to get out of here before he arrives so you two can have a moment by yourselves before the craziness of tonight. Text me later and tell me how it goes!” He kisses my cheek and disappears to grab his bags and leave.
I’m still standing in the mirror staring and trying not to have a panic attack when I hear the door shut behind Dylan. And then a moment later it opens again. My heart beats double time because I know who just stepped inside. He doesn’t call out for me, but I hear his dress shoes clicking across the hardwood floor as he approaches my room. I can’t bring myself to look away from the mirror. It’s not fight or flight—it’s freezing. I so desperately want to see someone reflecting back at me who feels out of place and all wrong, but no. Everything feels right, and lovely, and exciting. I’m scared.
I’m scared because I want to go more than anything.
I’m scared because I’m so looking forward to walking beside Nathan tonight and holding his hand.
I’m scared because all these feelings I’ve kept at bay for so long are pelting me like a hailstorm.
The clicking grows closer, and I can see Nathan in my peripheral now, standing outside my bathroom door, staring at me. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I.
The air gets hot and thick as he steps into the bathroom and fills the space behind me. Now, he’s reflecting back at me too, wearing a light grey suit that fits snugly around his biceps and shoulders. His square jaw is clean shaven, and I want to drink whatever cologne he’s wearing. His black eyes hold mine in the mirror, and I can feel his heat radiating through the sheer back of my dress.
He smiles.
I smile.
And then he leans down to softly kiss my cheek. Just like always—but completely different this time. His hands remain at his sides, but his eyes slide over every inch of me. I stay so still, trying to keep breathing despite the lack of oxygen in the room.
“Beautiful,” he whispers against my ear, and a shiver runs sweet prickles up my spine. “You still with me?”
I nod.
I’ve been on the phone the entire ride to the magazine party. All I want is to focus on Bree, but my agent needed to discuss an endorsement deal she’s negotiating for the offseason, and then that turned into listening to Tim blabber on about who all I need to kiss up to tonight after we get through the doors. It’s been one phone call after another.
Although Bree has known me long enough that seeing me on the phone for an extended period of time is not a shock to her anymore, I still hate it. It’s rude to spend an entire car ride with a phone glued to my ear. Most women can’t handle this part of my life, and it contributes to our early breakups. Some days I can tell my manager and agent to back off and give me some space, but on days like today where I’ve been moving from one scheduled meeting, practice, and physical therapy session to another, I have to catch up with the people who run my life in my free moments.
“So Paul will definitely be there tonight, and you’ll want to make sure you seek him out and have a public conversation with him,” Tim says, like maybe I don’t already know from years of experience that I need to be friendly with our team’s owner.
“Yep. Got it.”
“Also, Jacob Nelson might try to corner you. He contacted me about scheduling an interview with you, and I told him no. I’ve yet to see a positive article come from him, and I don’t want you anywhere near the guy. Smile and remind him that you leave all scheduling up to your manager.”
“Mhmm…sounds good.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Tim asks in an annoyed tone.
No. Nope. Not a bit. I’m staring at Bree’s long bare legs.
I don’t mean to be, but damn, she looks killer tonight. She looks killer every single night, but right now, she’s making herself stand out in this skintight sparkling dress, hair long and wild but also somehow perfectly styled. And her eyes…wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear eyeliner before, and it makes her already vibrant eyes practically grab me by the collar of my suit and demand that I empty my pockets and give her everything I’ve got. You can take it all, Bree. She has no idea my eyes are glued to her because her attention is completely locked on her phone. I don’t think I’ve seen her blink in two minutes.
“No, I’m not listening anymore, Tim. Can you just text me a list of people you want me to schmooze and who I need to avoid?”
He sighs, knowing he’s lost me. Honestly, even if Bree wasn’t stealing my attention, I still think I’d only be halfway listening to Tim. I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted. If I closed my eyes right now, I’d pass out. And even though Bree looks like a literal golden goddess, I still would rather be home on the couch with her in our sweatpants watching something funny on TV.
“Okay, last thing and I’ll let you go,” Tim says.
“You have fifteen seconds.”
“Nicole told me to tell you to kiss Bree on the red carpet
tonight. Just something chaste and sweet for the news outlets to keep your relationship in the spotlight and trending.”
My eyes sweep to Bree and my pulse picks up. I am getting official permission to kiss Bree. Actually, I’m being told I have no choice but to kiss her. Our lips will meet in only a few short minutes, and my mind can’t wrap itself around the idea. Suddenly, I’m sweating. I feel out of practice. So much rides on this kiss. What if I screw it up? I’ve generally gotten positive reports in that area, but this is Bree. I have to give her my best so the word brother never surfaces in her mind in reference to me again.
“Noted. We’ll get it done.” And then I hang up before Tim can give me any more assignments.
Bree must notice the grit to my voice because her head rises from her phone for the first time, haunting eyes knocking into me. “What will we get done?”
I’m not ready to tell her yet so I sidestep. “Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been on the phone so much. It’s not always like this, but being in the middle of playoffs means my time is—”
She laughs and holds up a hand. “Nathan, please. It’s me—you don’t have to explain to me how busy you are in the playoffs. I’ve actually been thankful for the time to myself on this ride.”
“Yeah?” I smile and nod toward her phone. “What’ve you been doing?”
She bites her full bottom lip, and I wonder if it would be too much if I did that during our first kiss.
“Nothing.” Her cheeks go pink.
I laugh at the way she immediately tilts her phone so I can’t see the screen. “That pretty much means you’re absolutely up to something then. Come on, hand it over.”
“No!” Her long dark eyelashes practically touch her eyebrows with how wide she opens her eyes. “You’ll laugh at me.”
“Of course I will,” I say with a grin. “But that’s nothing new, so let me see it.”
She lets out a disgruntled sigh then hands her phone over. I’m now looking at a Google search page full of images of “celebrities on the red carpet”.
