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“Football? Really?” I groan again. I’m not a sporty girl myself, and I have even less of an appetite to be serving hot dogs to groups of men who yell and scream over other men who run around a field with a ball.

“Yeah, but it’ll be way better than last time,” she assures me, knowing that she really has to sell this to me.

“Different how?” I ask, not believing a word she is saying.

“Well, I was promoted, so now I look after a corporate suite. I’ve only ever done it once, and it was full of suited-up businessmen. You’ll be fine.”

That sounds a little better. Maybe only ten or twenty men, instead of the hundreds who usually come to the hot dog stand.

“What’s the corporation?” I ask, not sure why, as I don’t really care. But if they own a petroleum company or are killing off the rainforest or something, I might not be the best fit.

“The what?” She frowns, like the question I’m asking is odd.

“Who owns the suite? What kind of company?” I clarify.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to that kind of detail,” she murmurs, not really into it either. “Please, if Tom and I get married and have a baby, we’ll name it after you.”

“Really? You’ll name your daughter Daisy?” I ask, knowing that she hates flowers, and Daisy wouldn’t be at the top of her list of names.

“Well, no. Maybe your middle name, though.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. Daisy was Mom’s choice, and my middle name was Dad’s.

“You’ll call your child Adeline?” I ask.

“Yes, hand on heart, when Tom and I decide to have babies, I’ll call it Adeline,” she says, holding her hand up like she’s pledging.

“Please, you know I have to go. It’s been such a long time since I have found a guy I really like online.”

“What about Graham from last week?” I ask, thinking back to last Friday night’s conversation about the man she met online and was going to marry then.

“Bluuurgh,” is her only response.

“What about Christian from the week before?” I ask. We have this conversation every week.

“Bi,” she states, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Really?” I didn’t expect that.

“Yep, wanted a three-way with another guy, so I threw my drink in his face. I don’t share, you know that.”

I smirk before I breathe out a resigned sigh.

“Okay, fine. I’ll cover it. But I need a uniform,” I tell her, because we won’t let her manager know. I’ll just slip in, pretend I’m her for the night, and slip out. It worked last time, and I can’t be bothered filling out any paperwork or employment details.

“I’ll organize everything. Thank you!” she squeals, jumping up from the armchair and clapping before she grabs her phone and starts texting, clearly confirming things with Tom.

I sit watching her, wondering if I’ll ever get that feeling. The giddy emotion of being so into a guy and waiting for their call. I think about Connor again, the man and the job offer. This could be something, or it could be nothing, but regardless, I need to think about my future. I need a change that brings me more joy. I need a challenge.

6

CONNOR

“So… I saw you in the newspaper this week with President Rothschild…” Bethany says, and I try not to roll my eyes. This is me doing yet another favor for my friends. Sawyer, this time, who needed Bethany off his back after taking her out during the week.

Last night at drinks, she turned up unannounced, and he pushed her on to me. After a few whiskeys, I invited her to the game tonight to try to get her off Sawyer’s back. Apparently, all that did is have her clench on to me. I blame the stupid sound healing. I was feeling too relaxed after my treatment. Now, even though I’m with her on this stupid half-assed date as a favor to Sawyer, I’m still imagining her hair is red instead of box blond.

“He’s a friend.” I confirm the only thing I’m willing to tell anyone and hit the elevator button. The noise in the stadium is already loud, and I feel the excitement buzzing around my body. I’m looking forward to relaxing and watching my favorite football team play from my corporate suite.