“Hey!” I say, closing in on my target.
He keeps talking and laughing like it’s ever okay to be the person who empties a dish. Didn’t his mom teach him anything? Never take the last slice of pizza, never swipe the last bottled drink, andneverbe the one who empties the candy bowl. It’s common courtesy.
When he drops the rest of the worms into his mouth, it’s like it’s happening in slow motion. And then I watch as his perfectly square jaw crushes them, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he finishes them off. His buddy backs away, and when I stop moving, I’m standing under the behemoth. His green eyes sparkle with residual laughter, and for a moment, they’re all I can focus on. And then he wipes his sour-dusted hands on the sides of his pants like it's nothing. My pulse spikes, and I feel myface compiling all the stressors of my day—gummies included—into one twisted expression.
He stares down at me, his dark brows knitting, and then recognition passes over his face. “Lena Lux? I loved your set. Hadn’t heard much of your new stuff ‘til tonight, but that first one?—”
“You ate my candy,” I say.
“Your candy?” He eyes me, then the table, his gaze landing on the desserts. He smirks. “The candy that was put out for everyone by craft services?”
“The candy I specifically requested that I’m not so sure the crew is supposed to be eating.” I cross my arms. “Does Billy always let you guys snack on the guests’ food?”
He runs a hand through his dark waves, and I watch as the pomade in his hair gives up. “Aren’t you high and mighty?”
I scoff. “No, just hungry.”
“So eat something else.”
“I want my worms.”
“Sourworms.” He grimaces. “So send out yourhelpto get you some. You act like everyone isn’t at your beck and call or something.”
“They aren’t.”
He pinches his stubbly mouth into a tight line. “Sure. You tell your little Lena Lover mob that. You know, they can be pretty brutal online.”
A woman wearing an earpiece approaches with a clipboard in hand. She smiles at me before turning to the worm stealer. “Decker, hair and makeup wanted to powder you one more time before filming.”
He nods and gives her an irritating grin before she disappears.
So he isn’t crew. He’s a guest. From his size—and arrogance—I’m assuming he’s the Vista Kings player. Charming.
He turns back to me. “I’ve never seen someone get so worked up about candy. I don’t know if you know this, but there are way bigger problems out there to worry about.” He shakes his head and backs away. “I gotta run.”
“Yeah, go getpowdered,”I say, rolling my eyes.
“I will.” He heads toward the makeup station, but turns back one more time. “And by the way, you have something right here.” He taps his chin before retreating again.
I scowl and lift my fingers to my face, swiping at my chin. They graze something wet, and when I look down, a glob of deviled egg filling is smeared across my fingers. I wipe it against the dumb costume my mom picked out and head off to find her.
CHAPTER TWO
DECKER
I watchin the makeup mirror as she stomps back to the table of food, the fringe of her purple skirt glittering with every step. Lena Lux. I know she’s in high demand these days, but I didn’t expect her to act like such a brat. If she’d been nicer, maybe I’d have offered to make things right—gotten her number, at least—so I could try. To be honest, even with food on her face, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone more attractive. Not in person, at least.
Leaning back into my chair, I close my eyes as last night’s activities start taking their toll. Thirty is too old for thinking I can survive on four hours of sleep. It may have worked in college, but after eight extra years of football and last year’s knee injury, I’m not sure how much longer my body can take it. I swallow a deep breath, a useless attempt to steady my spiraling thoughts. Athletes have a shelf life, I’m aware enough to know that, no matter how much I hate it. Football is all I have. It pays the bills. It offers a cushy lifestyle, but some day it’ll all end, and when I have lofty aspirations that require ongoing investment, I need other options. At least when those ambitions have anything to do with starting a nonprofit. It says it right in the name. I won’t be profiting. Maybe my manager’s right. Maybe appearingon this show tonight could garner a brand deal offer or two since I refuse to “brand myself” on social media, despite his insistence.
Desperate for a distraction, I sit up straighter, pulling out my phone and scrolling through messages. A disappointed groan resounds somewhere behind me, and I can’t stop myself from glancing up at the mirror again. Lena’s still visible in its reflection. Her full bottom lip pushes out in a fat pout as she scrounges around for something to satisfy her craving. I almost feel bad about emptying the candy bowl. Almost.
The makeup artist returns with her kit and stands in front of me, loading a brush with powder before pummeling me in the face with it. I find myself leaning around her, my eyes still locked in on Lena as she swats her long, dark hair out of her face and grabs a glazed donut. She checks her surroundings before biting into it and darting off out of my line of sight.
“Face forward, please.” The makeup artist stops, craning her neck in the same direction I’m looking. “Who are you looking for? Can I get something for you?”
I clear my throat, shaking my head. “No, no. I just thought I saw my manager.”
She resumes powdering my forehead and pomading my hair, and I pull out my phone. Three missed calls from my mom and two from my brother. Glad to see my absence back home is noted. I shoot off a text to our family group chat.
