"Says the woman surrounded by hot men all day, every day." Nova laughs, tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "I think you need fewer hot men in your life, Emelia."
She's not actually wrong, but that's beside the point.
"Datable hot men," I clarify.
"Uh…" Seraphina stares at me with wide eyes. "Pretty sure you have a roster of datable hot men."
"Absolutely not." I shudder at the thought. Dating an athlete? There are things I'm desperate enough to do, and things you couldn't pay me enough to do. There isn't enough money in the world to get me on a date with one of my clients. Never going to happen.
"Oh! I know!" Ava cries, scrambling for the Mary Poppins bag she swears is a purse. It's not. If she ever gets lost in the forest, she's going to survive on the contents of that thing for the next six decades. Minimum.
But we all watch as she rummages around for a moment before whipping out a pen and a notebook. She flips through a few pages until she finds a blank one, then rips it out and passes it to me.
"What am I doing with this?"
"Folding destiny, Emelia."
I gape at her. "I don't even know what that means."
"You're making a cootie catcher." She beams at me. "You know, like when we were kids, trying to decide our futures? I expect to see client names! Here—" she tears out another piece, handing it to Seraphina. "Think you can handle MASH?"
"I'm not MASH'ing my way to a hot man, Ava."
"You are." Ava bats her lashes. "And Stone Warden better be on there."
"Jesus Christ," Nova grumbles, inching away from Ava as if she might bite. "Don't even think about handing me a piece of paper."
"I'm not," Ava smirks at her. "You're in charge of Fuck-Marry-Kill. And Hux is one of your choices."
Nova groans loudly at the mention of her brother's best friend, Huxley Saint, who plays professional baseball. She swears she hates the man. It's a lie. We all know it, even if she won't admit it.
"What about you?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at Ava. "You have to play too." There's no way she gets to torture us while she sits back and enjoys the show.
"I know!" Seraphina scrambles to her feet, stumbling across the room. She plucks a flower from the vase on my kitchen table and then turns with a flourish, presenting it to Ava. "Get to plucking, sister."
"What?" Ava stares at the Gerbera daisy in horror.
"He loves me, he loves me not—Dawson edition." Seraphina shakes the flower at her. "The petals don't lie."
"Except when they do," Ava mutters, reluctantly taking the flower.
"This is ridiculous," I groan. "We're too old for this."
"Who cares? Get to folding," Ava says with a bright laugh. "With any luck, we won't even remember it in the morning."
God, I hope she's right because I've already written a name on my paper. Royce, my new client.
Chapter One
Emelia
Come Monday morning, I'm not even hungover anymore, but I am not mentally prepared to face Royce Elliot, either. Thanks to Ava's unhinged party games on Saturday, I folded, MASH'ed, and fuck-marry-killed my way into a future with him at least six times.
Have I mentioned that I haven't even officially met the man? Yeah, awkward.
All I've got is a highlight reel and a cache full of photos I may or may not have ogled extensively. No, I did not spell Google incorrectly. I mean, I've been staring at the man's photos for a week.
I don't even date athletes!
