“You ready for this?” Vonnie asks.
This question catches me off guard and I tear my eyes away from Maxwell’s ass as he jogs to the far side of the field to stare at her. “It’s a football game that I’m not playing in, how ready do I need to be?”
She purses her lips and aims a wicked side-eye my way. “Just you wait,” she mutters forebodingly. “Charli, Poppy, even Aviana, their guys play offense—there’s a whole other level of stress for defense.”
I kind of feel like an idiot, but I have no idea what she’s talking about. “I’m not following.”
“Don’t worry.” She lifts her glass to her lips. “You will soon.”
Fourteen
“Dear God.” I look at my phone, which has zero reception. “How long can it possibly take for them to get dressed? I’m about to hop on a train and head to HERS. I feel like I need a pitcher of tequila to calm my nerves.”
I’m leaning against a white cinder-block wall, with two large orange-and-blue-painted stripes along them, as if that somehow makes them look less like a prison wall—not that I’ve ever actually been inside a prison, but I have watched movies with them. I’m shoulder to shoulder with Vonnie and Charli, and by the way they’re staring at me with amused eyes, they can feel the anxiety coursing through my system.
My rubber-soled tennis shoe hasn’t stopped bouncing since the first pass attempt to Maxwell’s side of the field. And even though the Mustangs won 21–17, the knots in my stomach haven’t dissipated.
It took me approximately a minute and thirty-two seconds to realize what Vonnie was talking about. Whenever the girls watched the game at HERS, I only really noticed the cheering and happy-go-lucky nature that came with a great catch or a decent run.
I never really paid attention to the other side.
And the other side sucked.
Because you can be the best defensive back in the league, which—according to me—Maxwell is, but you cannot defend a perfectly thrown ball. It didn’t matter how much film Maxwell had poured himself into this past week, he couldn’t intercept every ball thrown his direction. And even though I knew this logically, it didn’t prevent my stomach from dropping or my nails from cutting into my palms every time the New England quarterback looked Maxwell’s way.
“You seem awfully worked up for someone who is ‘just a friend,’” Charli says.
Vonnie snorts. “This is nothing. You should’ve seen her during the game. Best case, she was going to have a bald spot. Worst case, I was going to have to call nine-one-one while Lucy did CPR.”
“I’m right here!” Heat rushes my cheeks when all eyes turn to me.
“Hmmm . . .” Charli taps her chin. “A little testy too.”
“I’d say so,” Vonnie agrees, her teeth bright against her red lips.
“Really, you two.” I roll my eyes, but my heart’s not in it. “Give me a break. That was a nerve-racking game and it was my first time actually attending a game.”
“Oh my god! This was my first game, too!” pipes up a very peppy blonde standing on the other side of Vonnie.
She’s a little taller than me, but without the heels she’s wearing, I bet we’d be the same height. Her long, blond hair made blonder with highlights has waves that rival a mermaid’s. She’s tan without being orange, and her makeup is executed so well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had it professionally done.
Actually, she reminds me of myself . . . if I actually tried. And had breasts.
“Cool,” I say, my nerves making it impossible to even attempt to mimic her excitement.
“I’m Eloise Withington.” She stretches her hand across Vonnie without acknowledging her whatsoever.
“Um.” I put my hand in hers and she shakes it with the strength of a three-hundred-pound man. “Brynn Sterling,” I say hesitantly, trying not to cringe.
“Brynn Sterling? The owner of HERS?” she asks.
My eyes flicker between Eloise and Vonnie. Then, when I see the expression on Vonnie’s face, I decide to focus all my attention on Eloise.
“One and the same.” I give her a tight smile that doesn’t show my teeth.
“How fun is this?” She giggles, her laugh reminiscent of Minnie Mouse. “I work for Pearson, Withington, and Thomas.” She looks to the ceiling and juts out a hip. “I’m a lawyer.”
Is that supposed to mean something to me?
“That’s . . . nice?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but Vonnie beats her to it.
“Wow. You work for your dad?” Vonnie gives her an appraising once-over. “That must’ve been a tough interview.”
The smile never falls off Eloise’s face, but her eyes do narrow a fraction.
“My father’s firm is one of the top law firms in the nation. I wouldn’t work there if I weren’t qualified.” She looks away from Vonnie as if she isn’t deserving of any more of her attention.
She must not know Vonnie.
“Yes”—Vonnie straightens her back—“I know all about PWT. I turned them down to work for Clark Simpson, of Simpson and Associates, you know, the top firm in the nation.”
I ignore the way Charli’s hand clasps my elbow as she doesn’t even try to laugh quietly.
Eloise doesn’t respond, but then again, I’m not sure there is a response to getting your ass handed to you in a cold hallway full of nosy Nellies who will—without a doubt—be relaying this story to their significant others before they even make it to the parking lot.
“Our firm is one of the sponsors for the auction tomorrow night, so I’ll see you there,” Eloise says to me.
But, because Vonnie holds a meaner grudge than I do and instead of the silent treatment, Vonnie makes it her mission in life to let you know where you stand with her, Vonnie responds. “I know, girl!” Vonnie aims a bright, fake smile at Eloise, and rests her hand on her shoulder like they are old friends. “You know Tom . . . wait, sorry, do you call him Mr. Pearson? Well, Tom is still trying to get me to come work there, so I told him I’d consider it if he’d sponsor the event.”
A warm, calloused hand grabs ahold of mine, tearing my attention away from the entertainment that is Vonnie Lamar.
“Hey.” Maxwell’s quiet voice and timid smile silence the world around me. “Can I take you home or did you drive?”
“I rode with Vonnie, so that’d be great.”
“What if I wanted some more Brynn time, Max?” Vonnie asks, no longer worried about Eloise Withington in the least. “You might be sexy as hell, but that doesn’t mean you can just walk around stealing my friend.”