chels@chelsyeah • 5m
you guys are never going to believe this but i’m working concessions at the pathfinders game and lyric adair just walked past me. wtf is happening rn??
Poppy chewed on her thumb, shredding her nail, watching as the clock on the jumbotron counted down the minutes until kickoff.
Down on the field, the players were finishing their pregame warm-ups, some of them already headed for the locker room. In the end zone, Cash tossed a football back and forth with Pathfinders’ tight end DeAndre Jones, who said something that made Cash laugh so hard he doubled over, hands braced on his knees.
“Holy shit,”Cassidy, DeAndre’s wife, gasped and Poppy whipped her head to the side, mildly terrified that at nearly nine months pregnant, Cassidy’s water had broken. Cassidy stared down at her phone, jaw hanging open. “Oh. My. God.”
“What is it?”
She practically shoved the iPhone in Poppy’s face. “Lyric Adair was just spotted inside the stadium.Thisstadium. Holy shit, what is she doing here?”
Someone had snapped a picture of Lyric entering the stadium, flanked on either side by plainclothes security guards.
“Wait.” Cassidy pinched the screen to zoom in on the photo. “Number three.” She looked at Poppy, eyes bulging. “She’s wearing Cash’s number.”
It wasn’t just his number—it was his jersey. An actual game-worn jersey the league would fine him atleastfive hundred dollars for giving away. It dwarfed Lyric’s petite frame, the sleeves, even rolled, hanging down past her elbows and the hem grazing the middle of her thighs.
“Wow.” Poppy tugged on her earring. “Huh, that’s, uh... that’s crazy.”
“No fucking way.” Cassidy scoffed. “Youknew. You knew and you didn’t tell me. The fuck, Poppy?”
Poppy winced. “I plead the fifth.”
Cassidy smacked her arm. “Your constitutional rights aren’t going to keep me from kicking your ass. I can’t believe you kept this from me.” She paused, eyes flitting to the field and narrowing. “Wait. Did DeAndre know about this? Oh my God, I am going tomurderthat man.”
“De didn’t know,” Poppy promised. “No one did.”
Other than Cash’s parents, who were picking at the buffet on the other side of the suite, the only people who’d been told Lyric would be at today’s game were the Pathfinders’ and stadium’s security teams. Even they had only been apprised of the situation on a need-to-know basis, liaising with the pop star’s personal security detail to keep her safe going in and out of the stadium.
Poppy hadpersonallyput Lyric’s management in contact with both the Pathfinders’ director of security and the facilities manager, a task that, as Cash’s publicist, really hadn’t been her responsibility. But she’d gone the extra mile, cc’ing Rosaline on every email, Poppy’s way of silently thumbing her nose at her.Suck on that, Rosaline Sinclair.That would teach her to underestimate Poppy Peterson’s work ethic.
Cassidy grabbed Poppy by the arm, looking her dead in the eye. “Tell meeverything.”
Poppy shrugged out of her hold. “I kind ofcan’tsay anything.”
Cassidy gave her an incredulous stare. “You had to sign an NDA?” She laughed softly and shook her head. “Who am I kidding? Of course you had to sign an NDA. It’s Lyric freaking Adair. Holy shit.” She glanced at the suite’s door then back at Poppy. “Is she cominghere?”
Poppy didn’t see the harm in confirming that much when any minute now Lyric was going to walk through that very door. “Mhmm.”
“God,” Cassidy breathed and patted the top of her head. “How’s my hair?”
Poppy smiled. “You look fine, promise.”
Cassidy rested a hand on her bump and sighed. “If I’d have known this was going to happen, I’d have gotten induced last week.” She pouted. “DeAndre’s giant-ass baby is pressing on my bladder, but I don’t want to be in the bathroom when she gets here.”
Not five seconds later, the door to the suite opened, and in stepped one of the burly, plainclothes security guards Poppy recognized from the photo. He performed a quick visual sweep of the suite from the doorway before stepping to the side, whispers rising from the fringes of the room as Lyric stepped inside, Cash’s number splashed across her chest like a mutual claim.
She spotted Poppy almost instantly, her megawatt smile lighting up the room as she ignored the stares and crossed the suite, throwing her arms around Poppy’s shoulders. She smelled like vanilla birthday cake, marshmallowy sweet.
“It’s so good to see you,” she breathed against Poppy’s ear. “I’ve been so nervous all morning, I thought I was going to throw up.”
Grammy-winning superstar Lyric Adair, who’d performed sold out shows inside arenas much larger than Pathfinders Stadium, was nervous to—what? Meet a few players’ wives? Poppy bit back a smile. That was actually really endearing. No wonder Cash was head over heels for this girl. “It’s good to see you too. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” Her gaze drifted over Poppy’s shoulder, scanning the field, undoubtedly trying to spot Cash. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?”
“Kickoff’s not for another five.” Cassidy waved. “Cassidy Jones, DeAndre’s wife.”
