How is anyone supposed to believe thatI’mCameron’s new love interest whenthisis his ex?
“I knew I should’ve left,” Sophie mutters, her fingers tightening on her purse strap.
As if she has supersonic hearing, Gigi swivels and homes in on Sophie. Her face lights up, as if she never read the text she received from her. The one that politely asked her to stay away.
“Soph, hi!” Her voice goes up half an octave, all warmth and familiarity, and she glides over with her arms extended. Before Sophie can get out a “hello” or some sort of hex, Gigi envelops her in a hug. When I get a whiff of her perfume, I have to fight the urge to ask her where it’s from. I’ve yet to find a perfume that doesn’t fade within an hour of application, yet this woman just escaped a hockey locker room of sweaty men and she still smells like a damn garden.
Sophie extracts herself from Gigi’s grip and offers her a weak smile. With desperation in her eyes, she turns to us, and with forced brightness, she says, “These are my friends, Kennedy and Maya.”
Gigi flicks her deep brown eyes in our direction. The moment she realizes who Maya is, her lips—painted a blood red that somehow doesn’t make her look like she’s trying too hard—spread into a sugar-sweet smile. “You’re Cole’s girlfriend, right?”
My best friend meets Gigi’s glance with a cool, unreadable expression. Maya loves Cole with everything she has, but reducing her to hisgirlfriendlike that’s her crowning achievement? Not the way to win her over. She welcomes new people into her life about as often as a solar eclipse occurs, and Gigi just guaranteed she’ll never make the cut.
Not that she ever stood a chance.
Maya only gives her a nearly imperceptible nod. “Yep.”
Gigi sticks out her hand. “It’ssonice to meet you. I’m Gigi. Short for Giulia—with a G.”
“Nice to meet you,” Maya says, her tone insinuating it’s anything but. “Who are you here with?”
“Oh, I’m not dating any of the players,” the frustratingly beautiful woman says, her tone light but deliberate. “I used to date Cameron, but we broke up and took some time to work on ourselves, so who knows what the future holds.”
Me, Gigi. The future holds me.
“I meant what publication,” Maya clarifies, “since only media is allowed in the locker room right now.” Her close-lipped smile might as well be a sneer.
She knows damn well Gigi isn’t a reporter, but she’s asking the exact question that’s on my mind: what was she doing in there?
“Ah,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear easily. “I’m not a reporter. I was just visiting the team to congratulate them on a good game.”
Her attention flicks over to me like she’s only now really noticing I’m here. And she’s obviously not impressed. Her expression isn’t overtly rude, but the judgment there makes me second-guess my outfit, my posture, and my entire existence.
“You’re the fan who bid on a date with Cameron,” she muses. Her tone says what she doesn’t:I’ve seen better. I expected better.If she wasn’t already on my shit list for being a cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater, her judgmental stare just guaranteed her a spot at the very top.
“More like Cameron’s the fan,” I counter smoothly, chin lifted, refusing to let her condescension land. “I’m a catch, so it’s no wonder he asked me out again.”
“You’re dating Cameron?” she asks, amusement in her eyes and tone, like she thinks I’m kidding.
“Yup,” I confirm. “It’s new, but my psychic Lisa feels confident about it, so I’m not worried.”
Her expression flickers with confusion. It’s brief, but it’s enough to know she’s thrown off a tad.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” She tilts her head and frowns sympathetically, like she’s about to deliver bad news to a child. “Whatever you think is happening between you two? I should warn you: Cameron’s world is complicated. People come and go. He gets caught up in the moment, and then things just… fizzle.” She shrugs delicately. “I’m not saying you’re not great. I’m just saying, realistically, you’ll probably fade into the background eventually.”
It’s delivered so sweetly, so reasonably, that it takes a second for me to register just how insulting it fucking is.
“I get it,” I reply, matching her sympathetic tone. “And it’s nice of you to worry about me fading into the background… but between you and me? I don’t really do background. Never have.”
She purses her lips and smiles, the expression making her look like she just sucked on a lemon. “As his ex, I think I know him a little better than you do.”
“And as hispresent,” I answer with a pointed look of my own, “I should remind you that rule number nine of girl code is thou shall not go after one’s man unless thou are a ho-bag. I know you may not have an issue with cheating, but I certainly do.”
I flash her a bright smile.
She takes a step forward like she’s about to bitch slap me, but Sloane steps out of the locker room, ushering a slew of reporters and journalists through the door, causing us all to turn that way.
Sloane zeroes in on Gigi, her lips turning down. I don’t know whether Gigi’s scared of Sloane or doesn’t want to start a fight in front of reporters, but she gives me a final once-over, shaking her head, and gives Sophie a quick goodbye hug. Rather than reciprocate, Sophie stands in place, stiffer than the Nutcracker, her arms at her sides, until Gigi hightails it down the hallway.
