I startle at a long sigh that belongs to a woman in a cream slip dress and chocolate thigh-high boots.
“They should be out by now,” she mutters from under a canopy of layered brunette hair and pursed lips.
I’m unsure if the comment is for me or the empty indoor field, but then she aims a glare at me like it’s my responsibility to supply an answer.
I state the obvious. “They went to the locker room.”
“Who are you?” Her polished tone doesn’t match the growing scowl that deepens as she examines my outfit.
I thought black ankle boots and tights were a sensible pairing. Clothing is functional for me. I don’t want to look like I jump in dumpsters for fun, but I’m not letting fashion runways dictate how I accessorize my life. Not that sample sizes would ever cover these hips.
I won’t judge someone’s decision-making process, but I do question wearing thin silk in thirteen-degree weather.
“I’m Miriam. I’m with Antonio.” I crane my head to reach her eyes.
She laughs. “One of those.”
“Excuse me?”
“Antonio,” she emphasizes, like I didn’t hear the disrespect the first time. “He haslotsof women who show up to his practices. I’ll tell him you said goodbye.”
Is Lea Michele dismissing me?
I adjust my skirt when I stand. It’s a few inches shorter than what I’m used to wearing. With my ankle boots, I’m still half a foot shorter than the woman who huffed and puffed two minutes after she arrived.
“What’s your name?” I adjust my glasses.
“Rachel,” she says flatly.
“Well, Rachel. I’ve known Antonio for years. Our relationship is still new, but our friendship isn’t. I don’t need to leave, because he’s my ride. Should I repeat?”
Comprehension looks different on different people. For Rachel, it’s walking off in a trail of entitlement and high-end perfume.
Guess she understood.
Antonio’s laughter rounds the corner before he does. My heart jolts at the anticipation of him and thuds when he steps out with a toothpaste-model smile crinkling his eyes. A teammate is next to him. He’s handsome, around the same height, and has an aristocratic widow’s peak like the Black duke inBridgerton.
My eyes drift back to Antonio. Where the duke looks like he raided Carlton’s closet, Antonio is Taye Diggs inBrown Sugarcoded, wearing a cream cable-knit sweater, a matching beanie, Timbs, and jeans.
I roll my lips. “Nice outfit.”
“This old thing?” His twirl flares his full-length peacoat. “Winter cream is a look.”
Now I’m laughing in his face. “I’m pretty sure you saw that in a movie.” My favorite, second toAliensandAlien vs. Predator, an honorable mention. We watchedBrown Sugarat his place the night he got tired of losing to me inMortal Kombat.
“Hi, I’m Shayne.” His teammate extends a hand that I shake.
“Miriam. They call you Shoulders?”
Antonio snickers.
“Shins,” Shayne clarifies over a chuckle.
Bread.
Shins.
Kendrick.
