Page 38

He smiles and fidgets with a balloon that’s drifted into his lap.

I’ve been to a lot of awards shows, galas, and red carpet events, but this time it’s different.

It really does feel like I’m going to prom, which is pretty magical considering I had other priorities as a teen.

However, I can’t regret that. I got what I wanted.

The fame, the fans. The sacrifice got me to where I am at this very moment.

Prom may be about seven years too late, but hey, at least it’s happening. And it’s all because of Decker.

Gustav climbs into a different vehicle parked behind us, and soon we’re all on our way.

The inside of our ride is set up kind of like a limousine.

There’s various seating so we can face each other or sit next to one another, even though the back of it isn’t quite as large as a typical limo.

I’m not sure what I would have done if he’d picked me up in one.

It would have been incredibly cheesy. A bouquet bigger than my head is cheesy enough, but just the right amount.

Though a limousine definitely has big prom energy, I'm glad he opted for something more modest. This is a charity event after all.

“Are you excited to meet my dad?” I ask, eyeing the bottle of champagne sticking out of a built-in ice chest. There’s certainly no shortage of bubbly on an event night.

“More nervous than excited, if I’m being honest.”

I’m much more charmed by that than I expected. “Nervous?”

“It’s always nerve-wracking to meet your girlfriend’s dad.”

My cheeks pink at his admission.

He follows my sightline, reaching for the glasses secured in velvet near the bottle. “Drink?”

“Trying to curb those nerves?”

“I figured we should at least toast to the closing of our… agreement,” he says.

“You always make it sound so awkward. Agreement, arrangement, partnership. We aren’t done yet. You might as well keep calling it a relationship until it’s over.”

“In what? Like…” He wiggles his arm, a thick gold watch sliding out from under his jacket. “Four hours?”

Is that all we have left? I raise my glass and smile despite the fresh sadness that’s cropped up. “Cheers to finishing strong.”

He raises his too, his green eyes somber as he drains his drink.

My phone rings and I apologize to him before I answer it.

Typically, I would let my mom go to voicemail, but after our meeting today and the rapid developments, I know keeping her docile tonight means I need to answer.

If not for my sake, for my dad’s. He’s the one who will be trapped with her all night.

Decker kicks at a balloon, staring out the tinted window impassively, his empty flute dangling from his fingers. I hang up the phone and wait for him to continue the conversation.

“That was my mom,” I finally say when I can’t take the silence anymore.

“How is she?” he asks flatly, pouring another glass.

“She’s good. She was talking to me about the big news I have.”

He pauses mid-pour. “Big news?”

I take a deep breath. “At least one of us has been confirmed to be playing at the Super Bowl.”

I try to smile through the nerves. My mom wasn’t excited when I immediately agreed to play the Super Bowl—there’s more money elsewhere she says, and of course, she’s right, but it’s been on my bucket list since I was little. When the opportunity finally arose, I couldn’t resist.

At first, I’m not sure how he’s going to react. He sits there, pensive, and then a smile sprawls across his full lips and he raises his free hand for a high five. “That’s awesome! Congrats! I thought they already booked the entertainment months ago.”

“They did, but since Kota Sky’s recent arrest and all that chaos, he’ll be a little tied up to say the least. They dropped him and called me. My tour doesn’t start until summer next year, so it worked out. It’ll be a good place to test one of the re-recordings I've been stuck on lately.”

“I thought you didn’t want to re-record everything.”

I shrug. “I’ve already redone half the album, feels like a waste if I don’t go through with the rest. Plus, like I told you, listening to my team hasn’t failed me yet.”

He shakes his head, staring into his glass.

“What? It’s the least I can do since my mom is already outraged I jumped on the chance to perform at the Super Bowl before confirming it with her.”

“That seems to be a theme, you rebel.”

I reach out, striking his knee with a quick flick.

He winces playfully, but the judgment doesn’t leave his eyes.

My insecurity builds. I know he thinks I’m too dependent on them.

“Obviously, it works, you neanderthal. You got your brand deal, and I got asked to perform at a major event. It’s like everyone totally forgot about my little mishap with Callum. ”

“Callum.” He sneers. “What a joke.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?”

“I like him enough not to break his knees.”

I can’t help but laugh, dissipating some of the tension. “Oh, is that what you were going to do to him the day he picked up his crap?”

“I thought it’d be easier than cleaning blood out of the rug.”

I grimace, but honestly, I’m flattered he’d stand up for me like that. Even if it does feel a little too aggressive.

Silence falls between us as I stare out the dark window. Lights flash by, but I can hardly make out any detail against the night sky.

Decker shifts in his seat. “So, the two of us are playing at the Super Bowl.”

I roll my eyes. “If you make it.”

“Again? I think we will.”

“You’re a bit cocky.”

“Always,” he says.

“Well, I guess you have a reason to be now.”

“Now?”

“According to Antonia and my mom, your popularity has skyrocketed.” I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t flinch. “Did you know your jersey is currently the most purchased in the entire NFL?”

“I did.”

“Weren’t gonna tell me?” I ask, my words clipped.

“I figured it didn’t have anything to do with us.”

Us. As much as I love to hear him say it, it has everything to do with us.

Our plan. It’s all working, and as grateful as I am for that, it stings a little to know that my name is being capitalized on.

Which is silly. That’s the entire reason we’re together, for what we can get from each other, and I wish that weren’t the case.

“Should have you sitting pretty for The Pro Bowl at least.” I lean back, staring at the diamonds in my bracelet.

“I’m not sure I care about that anymore.”

“That sucks. Wasted a lot of time with lil’ ol’ me then,” I joke, giving him my cheesiest grin.

“I’d never consider any time spent with you a waste.” His voice lowers. “I’d trade The Pro Bowl for you any day.”

My face flushes as he draws his eyes up to meet my stare.

As much as I want to ask what he cares about now and hear him say it, that answer was enough.

A flutter of wings shimmies through my belly at the thought of him making any kind of sacrifice for me.

I clear my throat and ask for another half pour.

“Plus, I don’t know if you know this, but if— when —we make it to the Super Bowl, they won’t let me go to the Pro Bowl.

They’ll send someone else in my place. Can’t risk getting hurt before the big game.

” Decker shrugs as he tops off my glass.

“It’s probably stupid I want to go so bad.

It’s not like it really means anything—not compared to the Super Bowl, at least.”

“It’s not stupid if you care about it,” I say.

Decker smiles and my heart stirs.

We chat and drain our drinks as the driver flies down the last few blocks of our excursion. Months ago, I never would have thought we’d be here. A pleasant conversation with Decker Trace—one that doesn’t make me roll my eyes the whole time? Never. But now, it’s something I’ll miss.

Decker downs the last of his bubbly before shoving the flute back into its velvet encasement, and within seconds, he’s across the SUV, sitting beside me.

His jacket brushes my bare arm, and suddenly I wish we were back in his room—with that jacket in the closet and his shirt missing again.

His comforting scent fills my lungs, and I want nothing more than to sneak back in his bathroom and read his cologne label one more time so I’ll know what it is he smells like after he’s gone. After tonight.

“You look stunning, by the way. I meant to say that sooner.” He nudges me with his shoulder, and I turn to face him.

“Had to have a few glasses before you could muster a compliment for your girlfriend?”

“You are pretty intimidating.”

“I am not.”

“You held a grudge against me for like ever because I ate gummy worms that I didn’t know were supposed to be yours.”

“Only because you ruined my post-show tradition.”

He pauses. “Post-show tradition?”

I nod. “It’s something my dad started. That was the first time in ten years I didn’t get a single sour worm after a performance.”

“I didn’t know I was interrupting a tradition.” He grimaces, then his face softens, his green eyes wistful. “I’d be pretty mad too if someone interfered with something my dad started.”

I hate when that sadness creeps in, and I reach out, gently placing a hand on his knee. His eyes meet my fingers first before finding my face. Something in my chest dances as his smile resumes, and I have to look away.

“Regardless of tradition, didn’t Darlene teach you it’s rude to be the one who empties the candy bowl?

” I jab playfully, hoping to recover the once buoyant mood.

Whipping my head to face him, I wobble and realize I’ve had a couple glasses too many.

The first priority at the gala is to find a snack.

And some water. If this is our last time together, I can’t risk forgetting it because I drowned myself in champagne again.

I’ve never heard Decker speak publicly. I want to remember his speech, this night, him .

He lifts a dismissive shoulder. “That’s subjective.”

“Well, you subjected me to a whole lot of rudeness and not a whole lot of gummy worms.”