Should I dress up today? Or should I put on a habit, like a nun? That would be the Thorne-approved version of an outfit. Scowling, I intentionally go the other way. Pink crop top, high-waisted leggings, and matching pink Converse. Not scandalous in the least, but also not trying to dress modestly.
I'm trying to be happy and comfortable, that's all.
As soon as I trudge downstairs, Thorne looks up from the blender. He’s just poured two blue-gray shakes.
"About time," he grunts. "Here."
He slides one of the shakes toward me, then jerks a thumb over his back. "There's a to-go cup of coffee with some almond milk and honey in it for you. If you hurry, I can give you a ride."
"Uhh... thanks?" I pick up the shake and take a sip. Though it's a disgusting color, it actually tastes pretty good. Creamy, with a strong blueberry flavor. "Mmm."
Thorne's lips twitch as if he's repressing a smile. "Glad you like it, Red."
"Ugh, Red?" I pull a face. "That's what every guy I know calls me."
"I'll keep workshopping it." He shrugs. "Finish your shake, Squeak."
"That is so much worse!"
"Shoulda thought of that before you said something." He tilts his glass back and downs a third of it, his throat working in a way that makes me blush. No reason why. It's not like I don't already know that Thorne is as gorgeous as a Greek freaking god. He's six-four, thick with dense muscle, and his ass is ridiculous. And yes, I'm talking from the experience of him walking in front of me in his suit. I might have tripped and fallen.
So I have a problem with Thorne's butt. So does half the population of Seattle, probably. Thorne is notoriously good-looking.
I gulp down the shake and grab a hoodie and rain jacket off the coat racks.
The ride to work is silent, mostly because Thorne turns up some mumble-rap rather than have to talk to me. Fine, he can have it that way. I sip my mug of coffee, trying to keep its disgusting nature to myself. At least Thorne tried.
Thorne parks between the practice rink and the arena, then promptly fucks off to go skate without saying a word to me. Again, this is fine. I haven't forgotten the crying, or the embarrassment of asking him to take my V-card. It's easier for me to pretend like it never happened when I don’t have to see his stupid Adonis face.
The first thing I have scheduled is an early meeting with Juliet, the five-foot-tall firecracker-in-heels that runs the PR department. She's already behind her desk when I knock gently on her open door.
"Hey! Come on in." She waves me into a seat. "Catch me up on what's been happening with TikTok and Insta for the last week."
I pull up the apps I use to manage our accounts and we talk numbers for a minute. Juliet smiles.
"Every time I get an update from you, I'm blown away, Mollie."
I blush. "I know the number of followers isn't as explosive as when I first started."
"You predicted that before you came on the team." She waves away the concern. "Say no more about it. I just want to talk about a few longer-term projects. Stuff that you can add to your schedule or possiblyeven do instead of some of the day-to-day posts you do."
"Oh." My brow bunches. "If I stop posting, we'll lose the followers we've gained."
Juliet's smile widens. "My suggestion is that we bring on an intern to take a lot off your plate. In exchange, you could work on a bigger project. Really focus on one of the players, try to get more in-depth. I was going to suggest your brother, to start."
I wince. "Beck is out sick with Rosie right now. I don't know how long he'll be gone for."
"God, I had no idea!" Juliet looks alarmed.
"Rosie has impetigo. It's like a mouth rash? Do yourself a favor and don't Google it. Anyway, it's hella contagious, but otherwise shouldn't be a big deal."
Juliet blows out a breath "How about we start with Alex Thorne, then?"
"Oh!" Heat creeps into my cheeks. "Well, I am staying with him for a bit."
"Perfect! He's the most marketable player anyway. He's the fan favorite. Everybody loves him."
Yeah, everybody but me.
