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CHAPTER TWO

DECKER

I watch in the makeup mirror as she stomps back to the table of food, the fringe of her purple skirt glittering with every step.

Lena Lux. I know she’s in high demand these days, but I didn’t expect her to act like such a brat.

If she’d been nicer, maybe I’d have offered to make things right—gotten her number, at least—so I could try.

To be honest, even with food on her face, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone more attractive. Not in person, at least.

Leaning back into my chair, I close my eyes as last night’s activities start taking their toll.

Thirty is too old for thinking I can survive on four hours of sleep.

It may have worked in college, but after eight extra years of football and last year’s knee injury, I’m not sure how much longer my body can take it.

I swallow a deep breath, a useless attempt to steady my spiraling thoughts.

Athletes have a shelf life, I’m aware enough to know that, no matter how much I hate it.

Football is all I have. It pays the bills.

It offers a cushy lifestyle, but some day it’ll all end, and when I have lofty aspirations that require ongoing investment, I need other options.

At least when those ambitions have anything to do with starting a nonprofit.

It says it right in the name. I won’t be profiting.

Maybe my manager’s right. Maybe appearing on this show tonight could garner a brand deal offer or two since I refuse to “brand myself” on social media, despite his insistence.

Desperate for a distraction, I sit up straighter, pulling out my phone and scrolling through messages.

A disappointed groan resounds somewhere behind me, and I can’t stop myself from glancing up at the mirror again.

Lena’s still visible in its reflection. Her full bottom lip pushes out in a fat pout as she scrounges around for something to satisfy her craving.

I almost feel bad about emptying the candy bowl. Almost.

The makeup artist returns with her kit and stands in front of me, loading a brush with powder before pummeling me in the face with it.

I find myself leaning around her, my eyes still locked in on Lena as she swats her long, dark hair out of her face and grabs a glazed donut.

She checks her surroundings before biting into it and darting off out of my line of sight.

“Face forward, please.” The makeup artist stops, craning her neck in the same direction I’m looking. “Who are you looking for? Can I get something for you?”

I clear my throat, shaking my head. “No, no. I just thought I saw my manager.”

She resumes powdering my forehead and pomading my hair, and I pull out my phone. Three missed calls from my mom and two from my brother. Glad to see my absence back home is noted. I shoot off a text to our family group chat.

Me

Can’t a guy get interviewed for a late night show without his mom and brother interrupting every second?

Ian

Don’t flatter yourself. Just wanted you to know Princess misses you. The only woman who could ever truly love you.

Mom

I love Decker! And you, Ian! Love you both!

My brother sends another text, this time only a picture. Princess, my pitbull mix, sits looking out a window, presumably for me. I can’t wait until I’m back with her

Me

Give her kisses and some beef jerky. I’ll update you guys soon.

My phone buzzes again. An incoming text from an unknown sender. I open it and remember that last night, after three old-fashioneds, I gave out my number to some girl at a bar who promised to show me some restaurant with “the best old-fashioneds in town.”

I took the bait, handed over my number, and promptly forgot. When she texts and asks me to meet her tonight, I don’t hesitate. I have nothing planned after filming wraps, and my flight back to California isn’t until tomorrow.

The makeup artist excuses herself again to grab a fresh can of hairspray, so I save Ian’s picture of Princess to my photos and scroll through the rest of the album looking for more of her. I’m happy Ian takes such great care of her while I’m gone, but I hate leaving her behind.

“Decker?”

I drop my phone in my lap and look up to find a pretty blonde with brown eyes smiling down at me.

She extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Ada.”

My eyes drop to her cherry red lips and the cute little space between her front teeth before meeting her gaze again. I take her hand and try not to squeeze it too hard as I shake it. Which, I have to admit, feels entirely too formal. “Hi, Ada, I’m Decker.”

“I know. I’ve been wanting to meet you.” She releases me and reaches into the pocket of her dress, brandishing a slip of paper.

She waves it in the air before folding it into my palm.

“I don’t know what your plans are later, but I have reservations for a new restaurant down the block and my friend just bailed on me. ”

I unfold the paper to find her number written on the inside. When I look up, she stares down at me expectantly. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Kind of. I guess. Is that weird?”

I shake my head.

“Too forward?” she asks.

I chuckle. “No. It’s fine.”

“Ada! You’re on in five!” Someone with a clipboard butts in.

Ada smiles sweetly at them and nods.

The makeup artist returns and asks me to close my eyes as she shakes up her can of hairspray.

“I’ll text you,” I tell Ada as she starts heading toward the set. “And it was great meeting you.”

“You too.” She smiles widely as she turns around and is ushered onstage by a crew member.

“Just one second,” I tell the makeup artist.

She continues to shake the can of hairspray as I send off a text to the girl from last night, telling her I need to reschedule.

I hear the crowd screaming for Ada as her interview begins, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the makeup artist sets my hair.

Come to think of it, I am pretty hungry.

I don’t know what Little Miss Lux was so worked up about.

Sour gummies don’t do much to fill you up.