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On Monday morning, I get up early so I can eat breakfast and shower before Ellie arrives.
It’s fifteen minutes to ten and I’m pacing—unable to focus on anything except her impending arrival. When she knocks on my door with five minutes to spare, I practically fly across the room.
“Wow,” she says with a smile as she takes in my button-up shirt and jeans. “You clean up well.”
It’s the first time she’s seen me in anything other than workout clothes, and the compliment goes straight to my head. A wave of something that feels an awful lot like lust rolls through me. Thanks to Celeste, I can’t help wondering if Ellie likes what she sees. I try to ignore the butterflies that flutter in my stomach at the possibility that she does.
This is not the time to develop a crush.
“Thank you,” I say as casually as I can. “You look nice, too.”
Her hair is back in a ponytail today. I can’t help wondering what it looks like when it’s loose.
She hands me a coffee and then toes off her boots. I take a sip while she shrugs out of her jacket and hangs it over the back of one of my bar stools, then gestures toward my living room furniture. “Should we sit?”
I nod and sink into a chair. She takes the one across from me. We stare at each other awkwardly. She crosses her ankles and takes a sip of coffee as if waiting for me to speak. Just like the last time, the silence is kind of peaceful. Is it weird that we aren’t talking?
It’s definitely weird.
“Thanks for picking up coffee,” I finally say.
She startles a little, as if she was enjoying the silence, too. “My pleasure. The wind is intense today. Makes it cold.”
“Too cold for running outside, I guess.”
“That’s why I suggested coffee.”
We were supposed to do the running/standing scooter thing today, but she texted me and offered to pick up coffee instead. I said yes, because running was just an excuse to hang out, but now I kind of wish I was running. Conversation usually flows easily between us, but we’ve never just sat around drinking coffee before.
My phone rings.
I’m so grateful for the interruption that I pull it out of my pocket and say, “I’ve got to take this.” Like it’s an important call.
“Hey, baby,” Amber says when I answer. “You haven’t called me back.”
It’s true. I’ve been dodging her calls. She knows me as well as Celeste. And unlike my sister, she understands what it’s like to live in the public eye. She knows what it’s like to not want to leave your house. However, the reason she can barely go out in public is because she’s beloved. I clearly don’t have that problem.
“Maybe I’m avoiding you.” When in doubt, go with the truth.
“Clearly.” She huffs. “Are you going to come?”
Amber invited me to attend the Grammys with her. It’s a big night—she’s opening the show, and she’s up for a bazillion awards. Neither of those reasons are why she asked me to go with her, though. She asked me so I can provide support when she encounters Teddy, her ex-boyfriend and the biggest fuckboy on the planet.
Amber is fiercely independent, but when it comes to Teddy Lance, she has a hard time saying no. I’m not saying she still loves him, but she doesn’t hate him like she should.
“I already told you I’d come.” I glance over at Ellie. She’s staring out the window. It was rude for me to answer the phone with her here, wasn’t it? Why did I do that?
“I know, but...” Amber pauses as if she’s not sure she wants to elaborate. “You’ll have to talk about your last game, and you’ll probably have to comment on your free agency. Can you handle the spotlight for a night?”
I shift uncomfortably. She must have talked to Celeste. “Don’t worry about me. I said I’d come, and I will. I want to come. I don’t have to answer their questions unless I want to. Plus, everyone is going to be focused on you. You’re the superstar.”
She laughs. “I’m bringing you so people will focus less on me.”
It won’t work. Amber loves the spotlight, and there’s no one on the planet who could steal it from her. Not me. And certainly not Teddy.
“Do you have something to wear?” she asks.
I snort. Of course I don’t have anything to wear. I can normally manage a night out without embarrassing myself, but I’m going to be Amber Hope’s date at the Grammys. I can’t just pull something out of my closet.
