Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Bailey
What does a plus-one of a professional athlete look like anyway?
Probably nothing like me, that’s for sure.
The main issue is I don’t belong in places where you have to wear a shirt and tie.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Remi that people make snap judgments based on how I look.
They see the tattoos and the piercings and ignore the fact that I’m just an introvert who likes peace and quiet.
Plus, I’m worried that my being there might put him in an awkward situation.
Yeah, he said he’d fight them for me, but this is also his job.
His livelihood. He’s not going to want to upset his employers, or hell, the sponsors who probably have more money than I’ll ever have in my lifetime, for a guy he’s known for a few days.
I wouldn’t want him to do that for me either.
We ended up talking for hours in the diner about anything and everything.
He spoke about his job, his wildly hectic schedule that sounds like a nightmare to me, and how he grew up in a small coastal town in New Hampshire before heading off to college.
And I told him about how I’m a resident artist at the tattoo studio and showed him some photos of my work.
I told him about Lian, and then he proceeded to send him a selfie of him with an adorable wide grin and the message, “Don’t worry!
I’m gonna look after your bestie! Have fun cruising! Don’t get too wet!”
Lian’s already smitten with him, but maybe not as much as he’s smitten with Foster. From what he’s been saying, the cruise is going very well.
But it was how Remi texted me this morning to double-check I was still comfortable going tonight that made my heart go all weird and flippy in my chest. Even though he’s only known me for less than seventy-two hours, his level of care is the only thing that’s stopping me from ripping off this tie—which I’m pretty sure is choking me—and bailing out.
I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s so fucking pure and bright.
Like he could light up a dark room just with his aura alone.
He reminds me of a golden retriever puppy who’s eaten too much sugar, and his thing with the marshmallows?
Fucking adorable. You might as well send out my obituary because I’m dead over how fucking cute he is, with his messy, dark hair, kind brown eyes, and magnetic personality.
And I’m certain he was hiding one hell of a body beneath his jeans and hoodie. I bet he will look damn good in his suit because he’s really fucking hot.
Straightening my tie for the hundredth time, I snap a photo in the mirror and send it to Lian.
It’s nothing special. Just a simple black button-down shirt and tie, with a black jacket and dress pants.
I’ve tried to tame my hair so it looks less of a mop, and I even stole some of Lian’s fancy cologne that his grandma sends him for Christmas.
But despite feeling like a complete fraud, I guess I don’t scrub up half bad. I’m… presentable.
I slip on my black shoes—also rented—and head out to the kitchen so I can watch for when the car pulls up. Luckily, I don’t have to wait for long, and Lian’s response comes through when I’m almost at the hotel.
Lian: You look so great! Stop fussing. I still can’t believe you’re going on a date with a hot hockey player!
Bailey: It’s not a real date.
Lian: Semantics! It’s a date and you look hot! And he’s hot!
Lian: Have fun!
Bailey: That was a lot of exclamation marks.
Lian: Oh, shut up! I’m excited for you!
Lian: Oh, and Bailey?
Bailey: Yeah?
Lian: I’m proud of you for doing this
I roll my eyes at Lian’s message, fighting the smile off my face before locking down my phone and slipping it into the pocket of my pants.
When the car pulls up outside the hotel, Remi is waiting outside under the canopy. He’s dressed in a teal-colored suit, and the way his entire face lights up with his bright smile the second he sees me has my heart doing the same funny things in my chest it was doing this morning.
How can someone be so fucking warm and good?
And why is my heart kicking like a kangaroo in my chest? What is that all about?
“Bailey! Hi! Ohmigod, you look amazing!” His words rush out a mile a minute, and he engulfs me in a tight embrace when I reach him.
I’m startled briefly by the unexpected hug, taking a few seconds before I wrap my arms around him. His rosewood and cardamom scent fills my nose, and I take a deep inhale.
He steps back and holds his hand out to me. I accept it, biting on the inside of my cheek to stop my face from morphing into a grin when he interlocks our fingers and leads me inside.
This guy is something else.
“Did you have a good day at work? Did you eat lunch today?” he asks, his concern warming my chest.
“Yes, I did have lunch,” I chuckle. “And it was a good day.”
“Did you take any photos of your work?”
“Yeah, do you wanna see?”
He practically beams at my offer. “Yeah, of course I do! Show me!”
I pull my phone from my pocket while he presses the elevator call button.
He steps in closer, our hands still clasped together, and I shiver at his breath coasting against my ear as I show him the pieces I did today.
His high praise and excited sounds of approval fill me with something I haven’t experienced before.
Is this what a dog feels like when they’re told they’re a good boy? I have people complimenting my work all the time in the studio and on my social media pages, but there’s something about Remi’s genuine enthusiasm that feels… exceptional.
He’s the complete opposite of me. I’m the dark storm cloud, grumpy and filled with rain, whereas he’s the high sun at noon, shining his intense sunlight on everyone around him.
When we step out of the elevator, we’re greeted by waiters holding trays of champagne and seltzers.
“Oooh, thank you, kindest sir,” Remi says gleefully, picking up a dainty glass of champagne and sticking out his pinky finger when he takes a sip. He pulls a soured expression for the briefest moment before forcing a smile once he’s swallowed. “Mm! Delicious!”
I snort under my breath and take one of the seltzers.
“You don’t have to pretend to drink it if you don’t like it. I won’t judge you.”
“Ugh, it tastes so gross. I don’t know why people like drinking it? It gets all up in my nose and ughhh!” He pulls another face, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I can agree with you there.”
Champagne makes me want to barf, but I’m not going to admit that in a place like this.
With my hand still in Remi’s, he leads us toward the main conference room, where the gala will be held.
Dark silk sheets and fairy lights are draped on the ceiling, making the ceiling look like a clear night sky, and there are navy blue and silver balloon displays scattered throughout the room—which I now recognize as the team’s colors, thanks to my quick internet search last night.
I glance around the room. Everyone is dressed to impress. High-end tuxedos and fancy dresses. They all look like they fit in here. They don’t look out of place, and a knot of discomfort settles in my stomach.
Am I going to stand out as someone who doesn’t fit in?
“Are you okay?” Remi asks, appearing in front of me suddenly.
He’s standing so close the rest of the room is blocked from my vision.
There’s a flicker of worry on his handsome face, and I hate myself for putting it there.
“If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to stay.
We could…” He looks over his shoulder, almost like he’s looking for another way to escape, even though the door is right behind us.
“We could run away. Or we can fill our plates with food, then sit under the table. They won’t find us. Or—”
The wave of nerves dissipates as I laugh, interrupting him.
I give his hand a squeeze, then take a deep, steadying breath.
“It’s okay. It’s just… different. I’ve never been to places like this, and even when I’ve been to higher-end restaurants, the looks I get like I don’t belong there make it an unpleasant experience for me. ”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I raise my free hand, pressing one finger to his lips.
“But I said I’d be your plus-one, Remi. I just need a minute to… get my head around it all, but I want to be here with you. Let me protect you from the grandmas.”
“Yeah?” His stunning brown eyes sparkle, creasing at the sides as he gives a wide, goofy grin.
Any discomfort I experience tonight will be all worth it for this man, especially if he keeps looking at me like this. People don’t look at me in this way. Like I’ve hung the moon or some other wonderful shit.
But with Remi?
I like it. And it worries me at just how much.