I blow out a heavy breath as I sweep up the last of the glass. I think it’s safe to say this night is not going at all how I anticipated. No—I don’t have a date, but I wanted Nora to think I did because apparently I’m petty AF. Why do I even want her to feel jealous? That wasn’t part of the revenge plan.
Except this whole night has backfired because Nora is Nora. I forgot she never backs down from a challenge, and instead, she bends it to her will before painting a rainbow on it. And that has me remembering her sexy rainbow print bra. Awesome.
Nora wasn’t even miserable cooking. She hummed the entire time, and even talked to the ingredients like they were her friends—she was sorry to cook them, but they were dying for a noble cause. That woman brought so much life to my house in such a short period of time.
I lingered at the top of the stairs just listening to her buzz around my kitchen before realizing I was sinking into dangerous territory. That was when I took a shower. A cold shower. But then I made her drop that glass measuring cup, and that’s when it all really went to hell. I had my fingers in her hair again. My hands on her thighs—her hips. The feel of her skin under my fingertips. Her mouth against my lips. I can’t quite call what happened to us against that counter a kiss, but it sure wasn’t not-a-kiss either. All I know is whatever it was, it was devastating. Memories, emotions, and desire all rushed me. And then quickly leveled me until I thought I was going to lose control and really kiss her. That can’t happen. At the last
second, I thankfully found my senses and enough willpower to pull away before that brush of lips became something much more.
And now, in an ironic turn of events, Nora is upstairs putting on my clothes while I’m down here doing the job I invented to annoy her. Somehow, she’s taken everything I planned and flipped it on end. Typical Nora. I need to get her out of here so I can get my thoughts in order again. I’ll annoy her more tomorrow—but tonight, she’s got to go.
There’s a knock at the front door followed by a rapid ringing of my doorbell. It’s enough to prepare me for my worst nightmare.
“Shit.” I turn the heat down on the stove so the pasta stays warm before going to the front door.
Through the frosted glass, Jamal’s glittering eyes peer at me. “Honey, we’re home! Don’t leave us standing out here in the frigid cold!”
It’s sixty-two degrees outside.
“Go away,” I tell him and the other guys who are now pushing into view beside and above Jamal’s head. Not a chance I’m letting them inside right now. They can’t know that Nora is upstairs or who Nora is or even what Nora has been doing here tonight. It’s all bad. It’s all going to end with them roasting my ass into oblivion.
“Dude, let us in,” says Nathan. “I smell something garlicky.” “We’re gonna need some of it,” Price adds.
I brace a hand on the door, afraid they’ll push their way in somehow even though it’s locked. “Not tonight. I’m busy.”
“With what? You don’t have a life anymore. Don’t even pretend you have a woman in there.” Jamal has his face pressed fully against the glass to get a clear view of my house and then the look on my face. “Wait…you do have a woman in there?” He howls an excited laugh. “Nah—we for sure need to come inside now.”
He smiles a warning before his finger hovers over the doorbell. “Last chance. Either you let us in, or we get her to.”
“No, you can’t—”
He mashes that doorbell over and over in rapid succession.
“Assholes!” I grunt, and then flip the deadbolt to let the leeches in. “There, are you happy? You’re inside. Now don’t pee on the carpet or chew up any of the furniture. My date isn’t here yet, so you can only stay a few minutes.”
“Maybe we wouldn’t have to force our way into your life like this if you would simply answer our texts or invite us over during the week.” Lawrence has his offended eyes on.
Nathan thumps the back of his hand against my chest. “You’ve been more aloof than usual this week. What’s up?”
I shrug and close the door behind them. “Just been busy training.”
It’s not a lie. It’s just also not the whole truth. Because I have been avoiding them. Distancing myself in case the idiots on sports talk radio are right and I’ll get cut at the start of the season so Abbot can take my position. If that happens, there’s no reason for these guys to keep me in their friend circle.
“Dude, you’re training too much. You need to get out once in a while or else you’re going to start thinking your weights are talking to you.”
All four men shuffle around my foyer and living room with narrowed eyes. Their inspections are in full swing. If Nathan were using a magnifying glass, I wouldn’t be surprised. I half expect Lawrence to pull out a little notebook and pencil and take down clues. His eyes drop and a smile tugs his mouth when he finds one: Nora’s yellow sneakers. Lawrence nudges Nathan like he’s being discreet and then nods toward the shoes.
“Yeah, I saw them too,” Nathan half whispers.
I tense. “You’ve all had your look. Now leave me in peace.”
Jamal comes to stand in front of me, right eyebrow climbing slowly toward his hairline. “The question is, Derek ole boy. Why are you so adamant we leave? Hm? What are you hiding?”
I should have shown less interest. I try to backtrack with a cocky grin. “Truth is…I’m worried my date is going to run away screaming when she gets a look at your ugly-ass face.”
Jamal sniffs the air. He sniffs again, his nostrils flaring. He looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with a contrite Nathan. “You smell what
I smell, boys?”
Nathan nods slowly. Meaningfully. “Pasta.”
“Right.” Jamal puts a finger to my chest. “And we all know, pasta gives you the bloats and gas. You would never be caught dead eating pasta on a date. Therefore, you’re lying. Admit it.”
“Objection,” I say, and Jamal and I both look to Nathan. He crosses his arms. “Overruled.”
Dammit.
“Answer the question.” Jamal is too joyful about this. “And also tell us why you’re trying to hide the fact that a woman who wears a size nine shoe is already here somewhere? Did you put her in the closet? I swear we raised you better than that.”
“Fine.” I shoot a nervous glance to the staircase, and the guys all follow my gaze. “Would y’all just keep your voices down. I don’t have a date, but I want my agent to think I do.”
“Why the hell would you want Bill to think you have a date?” asks Price while folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
Lawrence, who was just peeking out the front window, turns to us. “That’s not Bill’s car outside. You’ve got a new agent?”
They all four gasp, and I roll my eyes again. “Yes, okay? I have a new agent. And why are you gasping, Nathan, I already told you about her?”
“I like to be involved in group emotions,” he says, like that’s a normal answer.
“You guys are making way too much out of this. It’s not a big deal.”
Jamal holds up a finger. A point-making finger. “You texted us when you bought a new duvet for your bed. That was no big deal, and you still felt the need to mention it over dinner. The fact that you’re hiding this confirms it’s a very big deal. So, we’re not leaving until you explain why.”
“You’re not gonna leave even if I tell you.” “Well, sure, but tell us anyway.”
They all four cross their arms and narrow their eyes. Before I get a chance to say anything else, a female voice filters down the stairs. “Hey,
Dere-Bear, don’t be mad but I tidied up your bathroom drawers a little while…Oh! Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Well shit. Nora is standing in the middle of the stairs wearing one of my T-shirts that absolutely swallows her whole and has paired it with my athletic shorts—drawstring pulled tight just to keep them from sagging off her hips. She looks so damn cute.
A slow smile spreads over each of the guys’ faces as they register a gorgeous woman dressed in my clothes who they now know is my agent. Yeah, this isn’t going to go over well for me. I can already see Nathan creating a mental wedding registry in his head.
Jamal speaks first, sidling closer to the stairs. “Not interrupting in the least! Our friend Derek here was just telling us you’re his new agent. So lovely to meet you.”
“Why are you talking like that?” I ask, and Jamal just swats the air behind him like he’s telling me to get lost. This is my house, asshole.
“I’m—”
“Jamal Mericks,” says Nora with a bright smile. “I know. And you guys are Nathan Donelson, Jayon Price, and Lawrence Hill.” She laughs and it sounds almost nervous. “I know it’s super unprofessional to say this, but I’m seriously starstruck right now. The Sharks are my favorite team. But of course, that’s off the record because it’s about as unprofessional as a clown in the courtroom to admit you have a favorite team as a sports agent.”
“Really?” I ask her with a frown.
“No, it’s true. Clowns don’t belong in courtrooms. Ask anyone.” Well, I fell right into that one. She grins playfully at me. “But yes—I love the Sharks.”
“Is that so?” says Jamal, extending his hand for her to shake and then guiding her toward the living room.
“You’re acting creepy,” I tell him.
He flips me off behind her back. “So…Derek’s new agent…” “Mac,” she says with an easy smile.
“Nora,” I correct, just to piss her off. And also maybe because I hate hearing her go by a name I know she hates. I shouldn’t care. But I do. I
don’t want my friends to call her by that name. It doesn’t even suit her.
She glares at me over her shoulder. “Mac is what I go by professionally.” She turns back toward the guys, who are all now settling in with her on the couch looking as excited as a bunch of babies at story time. “My full name is Nora Mackenzie. Call me whatever you like.”
“So everyone except Derek calls you Mac?” Lawrence asks, sounding innocent, but I hear the unspoken fishing in his voice. He’s trying to get some answers to why I was hiding her. Why she’s in my clothes. Why she’s here at night in my house. Even I can admit it looks incriminating. It looks like I’m having a fling with my agent.
Which I’m not and never will.
I step forward. “Guys, let her be. My agent has work to do.” I add extra inflection on the businessy term, so they’ll lay off.
“What work?” Price is normally the quiet one, but even he’s invested in this mystery.
Nora perks up and looks over her shoulder. “The pasta! Shoot. I bet it’s burning.” She stands up and jumps over the back of the couch, sprinting toward the kitchen. All the guys’ eyebrows fly up, and I get it. Nora is not like any of the other agents we’re used to.
Nathan has Nicole, who is the epitome of sharp professionalism. And the other guys’ agents are all stuck-up dudes that are so unmemorable I can’t hold their names in my head. But Nora has a realness about her that sort of grabs you by the collar and says you have no choice but to like her. I can’t tell if she just hasn’t been scarred yet by the industry or if she’s truly unapologetically herself. Either way, it makes me mad. I want to forget her once and for all—even as I know that’ll never be possible.
The second she’s out of view, the guys’ smiles drop, and they shoot accusing glares at me. We all whisper-argue at once. They want to know why I’m having her make me pasta and why she’s in my clothes and what the hell I’m not telling them. I remind them it’s none of their business and to get lost.
She turns the corner again and our whispers die. They flash beaming smiles at Nora. I scowl.
“Derek, by the way, I know you didn’t ask me to, but I found a better outfit for you to wear on your date tonight, so I laid it on the bed. It’ll go with your personality better than what you have on.” I don’t even want to look at the scowls the guys are sending me. “Oh, and the pasta is ready. Hope you don’t mind; I stole a to-go container and took some for myself since I didn’t get to eat dinner. And I moved the pot to the back burner so it doesn’t get sticky which you don’t like—but the directions said if you wait too long to eat it, it will turn into cement. So, I’d get to cleaning my plate sooner rather than later.” Her kindness is grating on me. I’d much rather she give me the middle finger so I don’t feel like such a dick.
Her smile somehow widens and her hazel eyes glitter. “If you don’t need anything else from me, boss man, I’ll just be on my way! I’ll call you tomorrow about an endorsement opportunity you received earlier. Already working on the details because it’s a good one.” She does a weird pistol pew, pew, pew motion and then walks to the door and toes into her shoes, careful to not agitate her bandaged foot.
I give it three seconds before—
“Mac!” Jamal yells, standing in indignant outrage. “I feel you should know that Derek is being a jackass for some unknown reason. I’m sure you’re already aware but none of us make any of our agents do any of this shit, and he shouldn’t be making you do it either. He doesn’t even have a date tonight!”
I swear, I will beat him as soon as that woman leaves.
I turn cautious eyes to Nora, hesitant to see the hurt look on her face. I don’t find it because she’s smiling. Ear to ear, blinding, pearly white smile over those pink lips I almost got a taste of earlier.
“Oh, I know,” she says cheerfully. “I may be a little unconventional, but I’m a damn good agent, and I plan on sticking it out until Derek gets over his temper tantrum and lets me prove it. When he’s ready, I’ll take his career to a height he didn’t know existed.” She winks and opens the front door. “ ’Night, boys. Enjoy the pasta for me, it was nice meeting you!”
The door shuts behind Nora, and the silence that follows swallows me up. All of us stare at one another like we’re in a shootout in the Wild West.
Who will pull the trigger first? Except, all at once, the guys spring from their seats and take off running for the stairs. When they make it to my room, I hear a crow of laughter.
I give up and follow them to my room, where I find the chicken suit that I wore for Halloween five years ago laid out on my bed. There’s a note beside it. “Wear this, you’ll look clucking irresistible,” with a little laughing smiley face drawn beside her corny joke.
Nathan—Dad—looks at me with disappointment in his eyes. “She’s incredible. And you didn’t even say thank you for making your dinner. You have five seconds to explain your ass, or we sic the wives on you.”
“It turns out,” I begin, every word a struggle to get out. “Mac, as Nicole referred to her when she presented the idea of her representing me, is…my college ex-girlfriend. And also…who the thing in my bedside table belongs to.”
They respond in a choir of oohs.
“And I’m assuming by the way you’re treating her, it didn’t end well?” asks Nathan.
I jump back to that moment standing in front of my apartment, seeing her pale frown as she walked up holding a box of my stuff. The whole breakup took a minute at most. Almost a year of love and commitment and she ended it in sixty seconds.
“No.” I clench my teeth. “It didn’t. And I was miserable after, because I…I really loved her.”
Lawrence scowls. “So now this is all some sort of revenge play? To make her miserable too by doing your chores? That’s a shitty move—and nothing like you.”
It sounds pretty awful hearing it out loud. I’m not even sure how to respond. Because I don’t intend to stop. Especially not now that my old feelings for her are resurfacing. I need her to quit.
“I call bullshit,” says Jamal, plopping down on my bed and making himself comfortable. “You wouldn’t have said yes to her if there wasn’t some part of you that actually wanted her as your agent. I think the revenge
aspect is just a cover. I think you still love her but wanted a way to be near her again without risking anything.”
Yes.
I mean no.
God, I don’t even know anymore.
I slap Jamal’s foot. “Get your shoes off my bed.”
“For the record,” Price says in his usual gruff tone. “I think you’re making a mistake. Nora seemed nice. And very capable. I bet she’d make a good agent—and you really need one of those right now.”
“You’re right about one thing. She’s the nicest,” I admit. “Until she decides she’s done with you. And then she’s the coldest person you’ll ever meet.” I’m not sure I could ever trust her again even if I wanted to. Or trust her fully with my career. Better to get her to quit and then I’ll find a different agent afterward. An agent that I can trust to help bring my career back from the pits if I really do overcome this injury…
Lawrence shifts beside me. “You could get your petty revenge, or you could just sit down and talk to her and find some real closure. Get whatever answers you need, then maybe even find your way back to each—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I say, going to my bedroom door and standing beside it to make my intentions clear: I want them to leave. “I know you guys are trying to help, but I didn’t ask you to. You have no idea what happened between us, and for me, this isn’t a matter of miscommunication. I don’t want to know what her reasoning was. I don’t care. It won’t fix what happened or the pain I felt after. So now—I plan to get even for a few weeks until she quits and then I’ll go about my life, and I really don’t give a shit what you guys think about it in the meantime.”
And because they’re my best friends and know me way too well, they share a look that says they can see something in my future that I can’t. They leave without any further questions or comments, which is concerning. And also makes me feel guilty as hell.
When everyone has left, I head back to my home gym for the third time today. My body is restless and agitated, and this is the only place—the only part of my life—where I don’t feel lost or out of control. Here, I can drown out my thoughts and fears and convince myself that I’m working toward something meaningful.
This is all I have to give, so I’m determined to pour everything into it.
