I touch the door handle to the conference room, and my stomach leaps off a cliff. And as it free-falls, it drops directly into a space-time continuum portal where I continue to fall with absolutely no relief from my misery. But not because I’m unprepared to do my job. It’s because I’m unprepared to be face-to-face with Derek Pender again.
Simply put: Derek was my everything that was never supposed to be. I had my life all organized in a nicely laid-out plan. A plan I’m still hyperfocused on. Meeting a wild, fun, sexy football player and falling madly in love with him my senior year of college was never supposed to be part of that plan. We had both attended University of Southern California for three years without bumping into each other.
But then, like a ripple in the universe, there he was…at the same party as me with eyes as blue as a hot flame. Inexplicably, he was just as drawn to me as I was to him. He noticed me hanging on the outskirts of the party, not because I’m introverted or shy, but because I didn’t want to be there. It was keeping me from finishing a presentation I was excited to work on, but my roommate forced me to go. Apparently I hadn’t blinked in several days. And that was when Derek came over to talk.
After a while, he coaxed me out onto the dance floor, and my cheeks ached at the end of the night from how much I laughed. I also got rip- roaring drunk, and since my roommate left with a guy and we were off campus, I didn’t have a ride. Derek (who was way more sober than me)
called us an Uber and made sure I got back to my dorm safely. And then he slept on my floor all night to make sure I didn’t aspirate in my sleep.
The next morning, I felt terrible that he had gone through all that trouble for me, so I wrote him a little IOU that could be redeemed at any time. He never did, though, and it didn’t take long for us to fall head over heels for each other. Didn’t take long for me to lose sight of my goals and dreams either. To replace them with my addiction to his smile, his touch, the way he looked at me as if I were the greatest thing in the world. We understood each other in a way no one else did. Even our need for constant competition. It was normal for us to randomly declare a race to wherever we were going. Who could balance a cup on their head the longest. The floor is lava. Ridiculous little competitions all the time.
We had that silly, soul-wrenching young love that can only exist in a bubble full of skipping class, staying out all night to see the sunrise while eating gas station donuts, and ignoring my textbooks in favor of watching him practice or play a game.
Until I realized Derek didn’t understand one of the most important parts of who I was. So just before we graduated college and he was drafted into the NFL, I ended it. Abruptly and cold as ice. I’ve never stopped regretting that part.
The most likely scenario of seeing my ex again, however, is this: Derek will take one look at me, smile a slow smile, and then give me a platonic hug. He might even call me by my old cute nickname once for old times’ sake. Ginger Snap. Because we’re both adults now. Because even though it nearly killed me to break up with him, he moved on a week later. And judging by all the press and tabloids, if there’s one thing Derek hasn’t been doing, it’s sitting around and pining over me. That thought used to bother me, but today it brings me comfort. If he moved on so quickly, there’s a chance that I’m barely a memory for him.
And so, with great bravery I twist the door handle and step confidently into the conference room—exuding power and poise. Just kidding. Someone else opens the door from the inside while my hand is still on the handle, and it drags me in. I stumble through the doorway, past the intern
who opened it, and accidentally shoot the pen resting on the top of my pile of contracts like a cannonball onto the conference room table. It lands smack-dab in the middle, and Nicole (oh goody, apparently Nicole will be in this meeting too) looks absolutely shocked.
I right myself and tug down the end of my blazer with all the dignity of a queen. Possibly a toddler playing a queen in a dress-up outfit, but the dignity is there all the same.
“Hi. I’m here!” I will my voice to come out steady.
“Yes, you are.” Thankfully Nicole was the only one who witnessed my clumsy entrance, because Derek (oh my gosh, there’s Derek) still has his broad back to me, facing the table. “Let’s get the introductions started, shall we?”
Oh no. This is where it all falls into ruin, and Nicole will be here to witness it. I should have just told her the truth in her office. The truth is always the right choice. Always. I know this, because I’m the captain of the Rule Followers Club. And yet…
Derek reaches forward and plucks the pen from the middle of the table. With it clutched in his hand, he pushes his chair back and stands. I gulp down a thousand butterflies at just the sight of his back. It’s…expansive. I don’t remember there being this much terrain before. The muscles are so obscene they’re rippling through his shirt. That poor cotton tee is straining with all its might, but it barely stands a chance. And then he turns and the floor falls out from under me.
Sharp, cornflower-blue eyes connect with mine—so beautiful they’re nearly cruel, and I feel an old glimmer of something tug between us. And then a thought grips me before I can banish it. I’m not over him, and I’m scared I never will be.
His sun-kissed brown hair plays around his temples and nape, highlighting his bring-you-to-your-knees bone structure. Honestly, he and the quarterback of his team, Nathan Donelson, look like brothers with their size and jawlines. But Derek is Nathan’s worldlier counterpart. Derek’s face is broodingly, fascinatingly handsome.
My gaze bounces, nervous to fully land on any one part of him. He was broad and strong in college, but…goodness, this man is overwhelming now. He belongs to a time when people needed warriors for their safety. And all of his tattoos…individual ones dotting but not quite connecting on both of his arms; those are new to me too. I’ve seen them on TV when I’ve watched him play, but something about witnessing them on his flesh in person heightens the experience.
When I look to his face again, he does not seem happy to see me. Nicole clears her throat. “Derek, this is—”
“Nora Mackenzie,” I say at the same moment he does in order to hide his voice. I stick out my hand with a bright, pleading smile and resist fainting from my sudden peak of adrenaline. “It’s nice to meet you, Derek.” Nicole can’t see me. Derek’s massive frame is blocking her view. His cool gaze sweeps down to my hand extended toward him and his frown etches deeper. I silently beg him to accept it. To go along with my charade
just until Nicole leaves. But I don’t think he’s going to.
Just as Derek opens his mouth to say something, the conference room door opens behind me, and our receptionist peeks her head in. “Nicole, sorry to interrupt you but you have an urgent call. I have him on hold in your office.”
Nicole rounds the conference table and looks from Derek’s stormy face to my bright and peppy expression that’s clearly trying to compensate for his. “If you will both excuse me,” she says, hesitation marking her tone. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Yep. Take your time, ma’am! All day if you need!
Nicole leaves the room and graciously shuts the door behind her. I’m left alone staring into Derek’s chilling eyes. He wastes no time before shaking his head and turning away from me to retrieve his keys from the table. “Nope. Not happening.”
Wait, what?
I’m shocked. Stunned and blinking like someone just shined a bright spotlight in my eyes. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, and that’s all he’s going to say?
“Derek, wait!” I round him to stand in his path before he makes it to the door.
He eyes me, jaws flexing. “I was told your name is Mac.” He scoffs— disgust clouding his vision. “Congrats. If your aim was to epically play me, you hit your mark. You won.”
Even his voice is different now. Deeper.
I’m struggling to find my footing because I severely underestimated what it would feel like to stand face-to-face with Derek again. Every cell in my body is humming like they’re coming back to life. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined running into him before. I’ve always known that Derek was Bill’s client—but I didn’t think we would actually have a chance to see each other because Bill always met with Derek offsite, and I had no reason to reach out to Derek and announce my presence within the agency.
But still, I imagined it. Imagined bumping into him in the hallway one random afternoon and sharing a second glance. However, in my fantasies, it always started with a slow mischievous smile spreading over his mouth and ended with us making out in a supply closet.
His reaction now is justified, though. I hurt him—and I need to apologize for it. But this is definitely not the time.
“No—please listen. I wasn’t trying to play you. In fact, I was afraid you didn’t know who I was when I heard that Nicole presented the idea to you. Everyone in the office calls me Mac. It’s short for—”
“Mackenzie,” he says thunderously as if he can’t believe I have the audacity to insinuate he didn’t already know. “Yeah, I damn well remember, Nora.” And then he lets out a short disdainful laugh. “And I also remember how easily you can drop a person out of nowhere, which is why I will never sign with you. I prefer my agent to be trustworthy and dedicated.”
Ouch.
Without a backward glance, Derek walks by me, careful not to touch any part of me lest he catch the cooties I’m carrying before he storms out the conference room door.
“Well, that certainly could have gone better,” I tell the empty chairs.
So it turns out Derek does remember me. And he hates me. Which, I can’t say I blame him for, even if it confuses me.
It seems I have two options here. (1) I tell Nicole about how I already lost the first client she practically spoon-fed me. Embarrassing. (2) Rip this knife out of my chest and use it as a dart to hit my career goals instead.
I’m going with option 2, which means it’s time to clear the air with my ex-boyfriend.
