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CHAPTER FIVE-FINLEY

Oh my Flamin’ Hot Cheetos—did that just happen?

After leaving Koa Jackson—hot as fuck, still sweaty, and OMG, was he just flirting with me, Koa mother humping Jackson—on the field, I still can’t catch my breath.

I shouldn’t have flirted with him.

Not really. Or Ever.

Definitely not out loud.

And not with witnesses.

Especially not with that little heat-glint in his eyes like he knew I wasn’t playing fair.

But Koa Jackson opened the door first.

And I, apparently, was dumb enough to walk right through it.

Stupid Finley. Really freaking stupid.

I am just not equipped to handle a thing —even if it’s just some harmless flirting—with a guy like that.

He’s a professional athlete, for Pete’s sake!

And I’m, well, I’m me.

I still don’t even know what my actual job title is.

Influencer?

Marketing consultant?

Freelancer?

Professional internet hobgoblin?

Honestly, it’s all the above.

Brands pay me to create buzz, build followers, drive engagement, make things look effortless and viral.

And I’m good at it.

I’ve made scrunchies, goat yoga, and custom-cut sandwich boards trend in niche circles.

But this? Rugby? This is a whole new arena.

Even if it’s just catching on in the States, the rest of the world already treats it like sacred scripture.

And Koa freaking Jackson ?

He’s their golden god.

Which is... fine.

Except it's not. Not really. Not when said god spends every practice glaring at me like I personally ruined his life.

I’m editing today’s practice footage— fingers flying over my laptop, trying to focus —when Carolina walks into the RV and everything shifts.

She’s radiant. Soft makeup, slinky dress hugging every curve, hair cascading in soft waves like she stepped out of a date-night commercial.

Her eyes are bright, cheeks a little flushed. Then she looks at me.

“Hey!” she chirps. “What’s wrong?”

Crap. Busted.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, closing my laptop like it might reveal all my embarrassing thoughts.

“All good. Just thinking about how to cut today’s footage. I got some decent shots of your boy Dane yelling and Koa looking like he wants to murder the sun. Totally viral-worthy stuff.”

Her smile falters, just a little, eyes scanning my face. “You sure?”

I nod too quickly. “Yeah! You look amazing, by the way. Where are you going looking like that? Trying to break hearts across the county line?”

She laughs, cheeks pinking up. “Just one. Dane planned a surprise dinner. And, um, I hope you don’t mind, but he also booked us a room at the hotel in town for the night.”

“Oh my God, mind?” I wave her off. “Please. You guys deserve some alone time. I should be the one apologizing for third-wheeling.”

She frowns, walking over and dropping down beside me on the narrow bench.

“Fin, stop. You’re not a third wheel. You’re the reason half the people in town even know the team exists right now.”

I shrug, smiling a little. “Yeah, well. It’s easy to promote when everyone on the team looks like they were handpicked from an action movie casting call.”

She nudges me with her shoulder. “Including one particular grump who’s always glowering in your direction?”

“Yeah right.” I snort.

“Um, yeah . Fin, Koa can’t keep his eyes in his head when you walk by.”

“Please. Koa Jackson barely tolerates my existence.”

She gives me a look.

“He stares at you like he’s trying to decode the meaning of life.”

“More like trying to remember if he left the stove on. I’m background noise to him.”

I try to keep my tone light, but there’s a knot in my chest.

Especially after today’s flirting.

Was it even that? Am I overthinking this?

“He’s all power and discipline and intensity. I’m chaos in lipstick.”

“Finley, when is the last time you looked in a mirror?”

“You’re sweet, Carolina. But jocks don’t like fat girls with big mouths.”

“First of all, I beg to differ. Cause my man is very into me. Second, We are not fat . We are plus size and that just means more to love. Third, Fin, you’re brilliant,” Carolina says softly. “Plus, you’re gorgeous. And if he doesn’t see that, it’s his loss.”

I smile, but it wobbles a little.

Because the truth is, I have been watching.

Not just through my lens, but with something sharper. Quieter.

Every time he growls at a teammate or grits his teeth in frustration or scrubs his hands over his stupidly perfect jaw, I feel it.

That pull. That thing I try not to name.

And watching Carolina now, seeing her glow over a man who worships the ground she walks on, I can’t help but feel the ache of it.

Not jealousy.

Just longing.

I want someone to look at me like Dane looks at her.

Like I’m it.

The one.

The prize.

The gravity pulling them in.

Maybe I’m foolish, but I want someone who chooses me like that.

Even if that someone is the last person who should.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

“I am perfect. And so are you, now get out of here and go find your man!” I tell her with forced gaiety.