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Epilogue
Taylor
8 Months Later
I glanced at my car clock and grumbled, “I hate being late.”
I had a late class this afternoon. Despite that, I would have had enough time if not for Dean Armbruster intercepting me in the hall by my office. I would have told him that I was trying to get home to prepare for a party, but he talked my ear off about how amazing my student reviews had been, and how our department chair was already discussing my track towards tenureship. It was tough to interrupt someone when they were complimenting you.
I pulled into the gated community, flashed my invitation to the guard, and then drove all the way down to the end of the street. A valet stand was set up in front of Dallas Lockett’s house, just like it had been for his Halloween party last year. I got out and handed my keys to the valet, and his eyes lingered on my cleavage just a little longer than was polite.
I smiled inwardly. My costume was designed to draw looks, after all.
Music was thumping loudly when I walked into the foyer of the big house. Andrew Stark, the backup tight end, was standing beneath the sprawling staircase, where a rubber tube was hanging down from a cluster of linemen on the second story. Stark took hold of the tube, then put it over his mouth as the linemen above poured beer into a funnel. Stark was able to gulp down most of the beer, but then everyone cheered when he eventually sputtered and spilled the remainder of it down the front of his costume.
“I’ve never seen a Roman Centurion do a beer bong before,” I told him with a smile. “Do you know where Brody is?”
His eyes went wide when he saw me. “He, uh…” Then he pointed into the next room.
Everyone was happy and cheerful at the party. And why not? The Stallions were leading the division, despite a bunch of new changes with the defensive coaching team. Changes which were causing a whole bunch of drama among the team.
I was happy that the drama was external this time, rather than involving me specifically.
I said hello to a group of fellow cheerleaders, and smiled when I heard one of them whisper, “Taylor really brought it,” after I walked away. Then I saw Brody out on the back patio, holding court with Dallas and a bunch of members of the field goal kicking squad. My boyfriend’s back was to me, and he was dressed like a cowboy. A sexy cowboy wearing assless chaps and swinging a lasso in one hand while telling a story to the others.
“…she did about as well as can be expected,” Brody was saying. “Stayed on that horse’s back for about eight seconds before she slid off the side and landed on her butt in the dirt. Then she looked up and asked, what did I do wrong? My pop didn’t have the heart to tell her she was supposed to wait until the horse was saddled first!”
“Hey!” I said behind Brody. “Don’t tell them about that!”
Brody and the others turned around, and the smile on his face melted away. But not because I had caught him telling an embarrassing story about me. It melted away because he was seeing my costume for the first time. The sparkling red ball-gown and long, blue evening gloves. The push-up bra squeezing every ounce of cleavage up out the top of the dress. My long, flowing red hair that had taken two hours in front of the mirror to get right. And of course, lips that were painted cherry-red.
“Jessica Rabbit,” one of the field goal kickers breathed.
Brody whistled between his teeth. “Holy shit, Foxy. I thought you were gonna dress in a T-Rex costume or something.”
I stepped up to him and gave my best impression of Jessica Rabbit’s deep, sensual voice. “Sometimes a girl just wants to look good.”
Brody grinned like a little boy. “You passed good about five miles back. You’re smack dab in hot as fuck territory.”
He wrapped me up in a kiss, dipping me low like we had just finished a ballroom dance. The teammates jeered and whistled and told us to get a room.
“I can’t believe you told them that story!” I said.
“Aww, come on,” he replied. “Can’t let you take yourself too seriously. Just like you always keep me honest.”
I smiled happily at him. We did that for each other. Always laughing and having fun and playfully teasing, especially when we were stressed. We were never too serious, even when our respective careers tried to force it on us.
It made life easy. Easier than it had any right to be. I loved him for it, and I knew he loved me back every bit as fiercely.
“Besides,” Brody said, “when you were sitting on your rump in the dirt? That’s the moment you won my pop over.”
“It wasn’t when I said I’d let him meet the rest of the Stallions cheerleaders?”
“Oh, yeah. It was probably that.”
I got a drink and we mingled at the party. When Double-D saw me, he fell to the ground and pretended like the sight of me was giving him a stroke. Stevie was talking to a woman I didn’t recognize, and when he paused to say hi and compliment me, the woman rolled her eyes. I couldn’t be sure, but as soon as I walked away I think it sparked an argument between them.
After everyone had arrived and were on their second or third drinks, Dallas told the DJ to cut the music so he could address the party. Everyone stopped and turned toward him in the living room.
