Plans are clean. Logical. They have contingencies and margins for error. Plans do not involve waking up replaying the exact way a man’s mouth curved when he smiled against yours, like he wasn’t in a rush to prove anything.
That part was… inconvenient.
I walk to the elevator and jab the button harder than necessary. While I wait, my phone buzzes again, and I pretend I don’t feel the tiny spike of anticipation that comes with it.
I check it anyway. I’m not a monk.
COLBY:Also, no rush at all, but if you do come, I’ll make sure you’re not subjected to Dex during warmups.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
ME:Tempting offer.
COLBY:Fair warning, I can’t promise protection from him once the puck drops. We’ve got home games Tuesday and Thursday this week. Pick whichever one works for you and how many tickets you want. I’ll leave them at the box office.
There’s something about him. About the way he's understated. Not flirty. Not performative. Just… him.
Which is exactly the problem.
The elevator dings. I step inside, and my reflection stares back at me from the mirrored wall. I look composed. Alert. Like the kind of woman people trust with their careers.
I don’t look like someone who would make the same mistake twice.
I ride down in silence, using the time to remind myself of something important. Liking someone’s presence is not the same as wanting their future. Attraction is chemistry. Chemistry fades. Strategy lasts.
That’s not cynicism. That’s experience.
By the time I reach the lobby, I’ve successfully reframed Colby into a category that feels safe.
Colby Hayes: Asset.
Public goodwill. Built-in audience. Cross-industry credibility. A face people trust. A voice people listen to.
He’s useful.
The word lands solidly in my chest, like a paperweight.
Useful doesn’t mean disposable. It just means defined.
I step outside, the city already alive around me, and pull my coat tighter. Nashville comes to life the way it always does: music leaking from open doors, tourists pointing at buildings they’ve seen on Instagram, and locals moving with purpose because we know better than to linger.
This is my environment.
I thrive here.
And when I pass a sports bar and see a replay from the charity night looping on a screen, my steps slow.
There we are.
Me on stage. Him behind the wall. The moment right before everything started to matter.
I don’t stop walking. I don’t go in.
But I register it.
I straighten my shoulders and keep moving.
This is fine.
