Page 11 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Bryce Vine & Bubblegum Pink

The scent of hairspray, lavender shampoo, and hot curling irons was basically therapy.

If serotonin had a smell, Belle + Blush nailed it.

Linnie lounged in her usual chair, leg propped, phone in one hand and iced vanilla chai in the other, while her stylist, Cass, worked magic with a new set of extensions.

Across the room, Sadie was half- asleep under a dryer, Cleo was hunting for her next “ soft but edgy” Pinterest nail inspo, and Jade—goddess of cheekbone highlights and hot takes—was reclined in a velvet pedicure chair, sipping champagne like a Real Housewife on vacation.

Her toes were already drying—bubblegum pink with tiny white stars.

Her fingernails were up next, prepped and filed to almond perfection.

A perfect Saturday. No stress. No spreadsheets.

No Blaine-induced mental spirals. “ Alright, babe, let ’ s get these new ones in and blend them like your life depends on it,” Cass said, sectioning off a fresh layer of highlighted curls.

Linnie hummed along to the opening beat of Bryce Vine ’ s Sour Patch Kids, just as it floated over the speakers.

?? "With old tunes jammin ’ on a Walkman and some Sour Patch

Kids and a Coke can…” ??

“ Oh, this one ’ s a vibe,” Jade perked up, reaching for the volume button.

“ This song makes me wanna date a guy who skateboards and wears Axe body spray ironically.” Linnie laughed into her straw.

“ You are such a chaos romantic.” “ Thank you,” Jade said proudly, like it was a legitimate title on her resumé.

" You are all such tragic Millennials ” Cleo chimed from her throne of glitter polish and golden under-eye masks.

“ This song makes me want to text my ex, block him immediately after, and then flirt with his best friend.” “ Queen behavior,” Sadie said from under the dryer.

Linnie was still giggling when her phone buzzed.

She barely glanced at it—probably the team group chat or her mom double-confirming rhinestones—but one glance made her freeze mid-sip.

Blaine: Today was fun. Let me know when you ’ re back at the gym again. I owe you a rematch.

She made a tiny squeak. The kind only dogs—and your closest friends—could hear.

Sadie peeked over her dryer hood. “ Okay, why do you look like you just got proposed to at Disney?” Linnie turned her phone around like it was an engagement ring.

Jade leapt out of her chair. “ No. He. Did. Not.” Cleo reached for her flute of champagne.

“ Is that the wide receiver? The hot one with the brooding jaw and mysterious gym face?”

“ Mmhmm,” Linnienodded, biting her lip.

“ You said he ghosted you,” Sadie reminded her. “ I thought he did!” Linnie ie whisper-screamed. “ It ’ s been, like, a week!” “ Girl, that ’ s not ghosting. That ’ s ‘ man brain loading,’” Cleo said. “ Sometimes they need a minute to reboot their emotional software.”

Cass peeked over her shoulder, smirking.

“ It ’ s definitely flirty. Look at that tone.

Casual. Playful. A little cocky.” Linnie's fingers hovered above her screen like she was defusing a bomb. “ So, what do I say?” “ Something cool. Something that says, ‘ I ’ m interested but not obsessed,’” Jade advised.

Cleo nodded wisely. “ And something with a little sass. Guys love sass. It ’ s like a challenge wrapped in lip gloss. ”

Linnie finally typed:

Linnie: Only if you ’ re ready to lose again ?? I ’ ll be there Tuesday after practice .

Send.

Boom. Perfect.

The room erupted in cheers like she ’ d just nailed the final rose ceremony.

“ I want that printed on a T-shirt,” Jade declared.

“ Please make it merch,” Sadie added. Cleo raised her glass.

“ To a well-executed flirt. May he sweat profusely at the gym and fumble a dumbbell.” Linnie smiled, warm from the inside out.

As her extensions finished blending and her almond nails gleamed under the dryer, she leaned back into her chair, soaking in the warmth of friends, lavender air, and the dizzy thrill of maybe-something-new.

And just for a moment, she let herself believe it was okay to enjoy it.

Tuesday – 7:42 PM | The Plex

The gym was alive with clanking weights and heavy bass.

Blaine was mid-set when he saw her. Leggings.

Cropped hoodie. That ponytail that needed its own postal code.

She spotted him in the mirror and grinned.

He immediately dropped his dumbbell. “ Smooth,” she called, strutting over like the turf was her runway.

“ You ready to lose again?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“ I was sore last time,” he said. “ And distracted.”

“ Excuses, excuses.”

They set up in the turf area: back-to-back circuits, minimal rest, loser buys smoothies.

By round two, Blaine was dying. Linnie? Glowing.

“ How are you smiling right now?” he gasped between reps.

“ This is me thriving, Blaine Austin ,” she teased, stretching into a plank with perfect form. “ Try it sometime.”

She definitely winked.

By the end, they collapsed side by side, breathless and laughing.

“ I forgot how competitive you are,” he said.

“ I forgot how easy it is to beat you.” They stayed like that—flat on their backs, side by side—for a little longer than necessary.

Neither moved. Neither wanted to. “ I owe you a smoothie,” he whispered.

“ You do,” she whispered back. And in that moment, Blaine realized something terrifyingly good: He was already in too deep. Neither moved. Neither wanted to.