Page 5 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

NOVA

I step off stage and immediately grab my robe, wrapping it tight around myself like armor. The second the music cuts, the real world crashes back in, and with it, the image of him.

What the hell is he doing here again?

I really thought after I shoved that envelope into his chest, that would be it. The grand finale. Curtain call. Goodbye forever. He’d crawl back into whatever luxury suite he’s been living in and leave me the hell alone.

Apparently not.

We’ve lived in the same city for years without so much as a bump in the grocery store. But now he’s been to Heaven’s Edge twice? In one week? That’s not a coincidence. That’s a damn invasion.

“Great set, Lux,” Jules says, dabbing at her lipstick in the mirror.

“Thanks,” I mumble, dropping into my seat and unbuckling my six-inch heels like I’ve just run a marathon in stilettos.

“You sticking around for The Backstage or calling it a night?”

The Backstage. Heaven’s VIP fantasy land.

Lap dances, private shows, ego boosts with a side of bourbon.

Max is always pushing me to stay longer, dance more, sell the fantasy.

But I don’t need it, not when I already make bank on stage.

I keep the VIP scenes to once a month or when a client specifically requests me.

“Nope. Heading home after Roxy finishes. We’ve got a girls' night with Delaney.”

Delaney, my other ride-or-die. Sweet as a sugar cookie but twice as sharp. A nursing student and waitress who can dissect your symptoms and your soul in one breath. She’s the calm to Roxy’s storm, my voice of reason when I’m spiraling.

And tonight? I need both of them.

“Sounds fun,” Jules says, sliding her lipstick back into her bag. “See you Friday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Break a leg tonight.”

I change quickly, pretending like I’m not still seeing Finlay’s stupid face in my head. Years of therapy couldn’t have prepared me for that smug smirk making a comeback in my life. And let’s be honest, it's kinda hard to pretend he doesn’t exist when half the city worships his cleats.

I try to shake it off. It’s girls’ night. That takes priority.

But yeah, I peek around the curtain first.

Sue me, I’m a 25-year-old emotionally-stunted woman-child, and I own it.

The coast looks clear, so I make a beeline for the bar.

“You almost ready?” I ask Roxy, who’s currently pouring three shots with flair and zero patience.

“Nope. Slammed tonight. I need another hour at least,” she says, sliding the shots down the bar like a pro.

Ugh. Of course. Packed house, and I’m stuck in Finlay’s orbit.

“Oh, hey, your QB’s back,” she adds with a wicked grin.

“He’s not my anything,” I snap. “And yes, unfortunately, I’m aware.”

She tells me about her interaction with him, about the $2K comment, and we both crack up. This is why I keep Roxy close. She brings chaos, vengeance, and glitter. She’d probably tattoo “Eat Shit” across Finlay’s forehead if I asked nicely.

“Thanks for that. I’m heading out before he thinks he’s invited to speak to me again,” I say, grabbing my bag.

“Tell Delaney I said hi. And if you do slap him, I wanna hear about it in vivid detail.”

“Deal.”

The second I step outside, the cool night air wraps around me. I tug my sweater tighter and start for the parking lot.

“Nova? Or do I need to call you, Lux, here?”

I freeze.

Blood boiling, breath hissing.

“You have to be kidding me.”

I turn, and there he is, Finlay Reed, leaning against the brick wall like he hung the fucking moon, wearing that smug, trademark grin that used to make girls weak in the knees. I’d rather be hit by a bus.

“What are you, stalking me now?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I could’ve said the same when you waited outside the stadium.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Please. That was a one-time thing. I needed to return your stupid money, not bask in your glory.”

He moves closer, hands shoved in his pockets, all casual confidence and frustrating ease. “Relax, Nova. I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, we’re on first names again?” I ask sweetly. “Because last I checked, you were throwing around Lux like it meant something.”

He exhales, clearly trying not to roll his eyes. “Look, we have a past?—”

“No, we don’t,” I cut in sharply. “We had a moment . I rejected you in high school, and you let your fragile quarterback ego turn it into a vendetta. That’s not a past, Finlay. That’s delusion.”

He takes a small step forward, but I don’t flinch. “Fine. Whatever. No past. Just this.”

He pulls a wad of cash from his jacket and holds it out to me like it’s a peace offering instead of a slap in the face. “I couldn’t reach the stage earlier. Here’s what I would’ve laid at your feet.”

And that’s it. That’s my breaking point.

“Fuck you, Finlay.”

He blinks.

“You think just because you’re some overpaid football god, you can throw money at me like I’m going to fall at your feet? Please. I guarantee I make just as much as you do. Maybe more.”

His lips twitch like he wants to grin.

“And if you think your cash or your charm can buy you anything from me, let alone forgiveness, you’re out of your damn mind. You’re still the same arrogant, self-righteous prick you were in high school.”

I brush past him, but pause, turning just enough to let the last words burn.

“Oh, and stop showing up at Heaven like you belong here. There are plenty of other strip clubs desperate for your money. This one isn’t.”

Then I walk.

I don’t look back.

I don’t stumble.

And I sure as hell don’t let him see the way my hands shake from the adrenaline.

Because I may not have been the golden girl in high school, but I sure as hell won’t be the one who melts at his feet now.

I slam the door shut behind me and kick off my boots like they personally offended me.

“He followed me outside the damn club.”

Delaney pokes her head out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. “Please tell me you mean a customer and not him.”

Roxy, lounging on the couch with a beer in hand and a glittery blanket draped over her legs like a queen, lifts one brow. “You don’t even have to say his name. That level of rage? Definitely screams Finlay fucking Reed.”

I drop onto the arm of the couch and toss my bag down like it weighs a thousand pounds. “He was waiting. Leaning against the wall like a goddamn Calvin Klein ad. All smug and pretty and full of shit.” It hits me suddenly, and I jerk my head to Roxy. “Wait, how the hell did you beat me home?”

“Backup showed up and I ran.” She lifts her beer and grins. “I wasn’t distracted by a douchebag.”

Delaney snorts and goes back to stirring whatever delicious thing she’s cooking. “Why does he keep showing up like a football-playing instigator?”

“Because he’s got the emotional maturity of a grapefruit,” I mutter. “And apparently, a God complex that just won't quit.”

Roxy cracks a grin. “Details. I want all of them. Tell me he choked on your rejection again.”

“Oh, it gets better,” I say, spinning to face them both. “He pulled out another wad of cash like it was some grand romantic gesture. Said it was what he would’ve laid at my feet during my set.”

Roxy coughs on her beer. “Did he really say lie at your feet? Is he auditioning for a role in a porno?”

Delaney walks over with a bowl of pasta and places it on the table, lips twitching. This girl is the best. School all day and comes to my place to make a home-cooked meal. “Okay, but like, that’s kind of poetic. Trashy, but poetic.”

“Don’t make me throw carbs at you,” I warn, but I’m already smiling. Because only these two can pull me out of the storm cloud that is Finlay Reed.

Roxy props her chin on her hand. “What did you say?”

“I told him to fuck off. That I didn’t want or need his money, and that I probably make just as much as he does.”

Roxy whistles. “Damn right you do.”

Delaney nods approvingly. “Proud of you. Also, I made vodka sauce. It felt appropriate.”

I sigh and finally sit all the way down, my bones aching from both the heels and the emotional whiplash. “He gets under my skin. Always has. And I hate that he still has that power.”

“He doesn’t,” Delaney says gently, sitting beside me and passing over a fork. “You took control of the story tonight. He’s still trying to play the game you already outgrew.”

Roxy lifts her beer. “To Nova. Queen of not taking any of Finlay’s bullshit.”

I clink my glass to hers. “To best friends and carbs.”

“And to lighting his ego on fire,” Roxy adds with a wicked glint.

I smirk. “Now that’s the fantasy.”

The laughter dies down after our second bowl of pasta and third glass of wine.

Delaney is curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and heat of the room.

Roxy is stretched across the rug like a lazy cat, scrolling through tattoo designs on her iPad and humming along to the low music playing in the background.

And me?

I’m here. I’m with them. Surrounded by love, by safety, by sisterhood. And yet, I feel alone.

Not because they’re not enough. God, no. These women are my lifelines. My soulmates in every way that matters.

But there’s a space in me that aches in silence. A space I pretend doesn’t exist most days.

I sip from my wine glass and let the confession slip out quietly. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in over two years.”

Roxy doesn’t look up from her iPad. “Because men suck.”

Delaney lifts a brow. “Because you’ve been busy building a life that none of them were strong enough to fit into.”

I chuckle, soft and bitter. “Because they all say they’re cool with what I do until they’re not. Until the confidence turns into control, the admiration into insecurity. They fall for the fantasy, then resent the reality.”

Roxy finally looks up. “Well, fuck them for thinking they could ever deserve you anyway.”

Delaney reaches out and squeezes my hand gently. “You’re not the problem, Nova. They are.”

I nod, but I still feel that familiar twist in my chest. That ache I never say out loud. “It’s exhausting, you know? Pretending it doesn’t bother me. Pretending I’m not tired of the hookups and the lonely nights. Pretending I’m not looking around and wondering when it’s my turn.”

Roxy sits up now, her expression softer than usual. “You’re allowed to want more. You just don’t need to settle to get it.”

“I won’t,” I whisper.

And then, because I’m already cracked open, I say the thing I didn’t want to admit even to myself.

“I hate that a small part of me, like a really small, barely existent part, kind of likes the attention Finlay’s giving me.”

Delaney blinks. “What?”

“I said small part. Teeny-tiny. Like, microscopic.”

Roxy smirks. “Nova Wilde, is the ice queen thawing?”

“I want to punch him in the throat and shove him against a wall,” I groan. “He drives me absolutely insane, but he sees me. I hate it. I hate that it gets to me.”

Delaney leans her head on my shoulder. “It’s not weakness, Nova. It’s human.”

“I know. I just don’t want it to be him who gets under my skin.”

Roxy raises her glass again. “Then get under his. Beat him at his own game.”

I bite my lip and stare at the ceiling for a long beat, Finlay’s voice echoing in my head. Nova, it was good to see you. Although I didn’t think I’d see quite so much.

Arrogant, cocky, infuriating bastard.

“If he’s going to keep watching me,” I murmur, more to myself than them, “maybe it’s time I start watching him.”

Delaney grins. “You’re going to his next game?”

I shrug, but the fire’s already flickering in my chest. “Maybe.”

Roxy’s already pulling up the game schedule. “Guess we’ve got Sunday plans.”