Chapter 13 #2
Bea checked her phone. “I’ll confirm with Coach, but that should work. Some of the guys are already asking when they can see the new pieces.”
“Especially Quinn,” Jax said, smirking. “He’s been in my DMs about those joggers.”
Of course he was.
“Speaking of,” Bea added, eyes flicking to me, “they’ve got film and lift now, but Noah and Quinn are supposed to swing by after your meeting to try on the altered samples. We can get early feedback before we commit everything to production.”
My heart stuttered.
Right. Noah. In my clothes. In this building. Today.
“Sounds good,” I said brightly, even as my palms went slick. “I’ll head down to the equipment room and lay everything out.”
“Perfect.” Marla gathered her things. “You’re doing great, Em. This is exactly the direction we wanted, so keep trusting your instincts, okay?”
Compliments usually bounced off me, but these stuck somewhere between my ribs. I smiled, thanked everyone, grabbed my bag, and walked out with what I hoped was confident purpose and not “woman fleeing the scene of an emotional crime.”
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind me, I exhaled so hard my cheeks puffed.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. I could do this. I would do this and smile.
The equipment room smelled like detergent, turf, and a hint of sweat no amount of industrial-strength cleaner could fully erase.
It reminded me of visiting my brother up in Minnesota.
Racks of jerseys hung in color-coded perfection along the walls; stacks of helmet shells glowed under fluorescent lights.
A few equipment managers moved around, re-lacing cleats and sorting pads.
“Hey, Em.” Carlos, one of the assistants, waved. “I rolled the mannequins out like you asked.”
“Thank you.” I set my bag on a workbench and pulled the garment bags open one by one. “You’re a lifesaver.”
I dressed two of the half-body forms in the updated samples, adjusting hems and smoothing seams until they fell exactly the way I envisioned.
Then I laid out the extra sizes on a long table: medium, large, extra-large, a couple 2X for linemen.
I set my measuring tape, chalk, pins, and notebook beside them like surgical instruments.
Clothes were easier than feelings. Fixing a sleeve cap was ten times simpler than repairing the part of me that always believed I wasn’t enough.
“You want me to send them back when they get here?” Carlos asked.
“Yes, please.” I forced a smile. “Tell them it’s not optional. I have needles, and I’m not afraid to use them.”
He laughed and headed toward the hallway that led to the weight room.
Sassy wasn’t allowed in the player areas, which was the only downside of this arrangement. I took out my phone and pulled up the group chat instead.
Daniel: I LOVE HER GLASSES. Tell Sassy she’s my favorite little niece
Audrey: same, also your blazer is
Theo: Very Main Character Energy today, Em.
Em: LOVE LOVE LOVE MY FURRY GIRLLL
Warmth spread through my chest. I snapped a quick selfie with the mannequins, stuck my tongue out, then stuffed my phone in my pocket as heavy footsteps pounded down the hall.
Loud voices. A laugh I could pick out of a stadium full of people.
Showtime.
Noah and Quinn came in together, both in team-issued workout gear, hair damp from showers, skin still flushed from practice. Quinn carried his usual breeze of cocky confidence; Noah felt like a quiet storm beside him.
My heart tried to leap out of my throat. I smacked it down and dialed my smile up to blinding.
“Hey!” I chirped, too loud. “Look at you two, right on time. Gold stars.”
Quinn grinned. “You hear that, Abbott? Gold stars. We’re killing it.”
Noah’s gaze swept over me once, quick but thorough. I focused on his chin, his shoulder, literally anywhere but his eyes.
“Hi, Em,” he said, low and warm.
Every nerve in my body noticed. I pivoted toward the clothes, like that had been my plan all along.
“Okay!” I clapped my hands. “We’ve got new fits to test. Noah, I took your notes about shoulder room and hem length; Quinn, I adjusted the waistband on the joggers so they don’t slide when you’re, you know, being dramatic in the end zone.”
Quinn pressed a hand to his chest. “That’s called celebrating greatness.”
“Whatever you need to sleep at night,” I said dryly. “Jacket’s there, joggers there. Grab your usual sizes, and we’ll see how close I got.”
They peeled off toward the table. I busied myself with my notebook, pretending to write while I mentally screamed at my body to stop being aware of how good Noah’s back looked when he tugged the jacket on.
“Damn.” Quinn twisted in front of one of the full-length mirrors, tugging at the hem. “Okay, this is sick.”
“Be more specific,” I said, stepping closer with my pen ready. “Sick good, sick bad, sick like the flu…”
“Good,” he said. “Like…my ass looks great.”
I snorted. “I didn’t redesign the jacket to frame your ass.”
“Maybe you should have,” he shot back. “Lost opportunity.”
Noah chuckled, and the sound skittered across my skin. I didn’t look at him, despite the fact I could feel his curious gaze roaming me.
I circled Quinn, tugging the sleeve here, smoothing the back seam there. “Any tightness when you lift?” I asked, guiding his arm up like we were mid-dance lesson. Heat radiated off him, and he smelled great. Not as good as Noah, but still good.
He mimicked a catch. “Nope. Smooth. Doesn’t pull. I feel fast.”
“You’re in a room with mannequins and laundry,” I said. “Calm down.”
He grinned down at me, a little too charming for his own good. “Can I keep this one?”
“Not yet. These are still samples. Once we get final production in, we’ll talk.”
“That’s a yes if I read between the lines,” he said, winking.
Behind him, Noah moved into my peripheral vision. “What about me?” he asked. “Am I sample-approved?”
I forced myself to glance at him, only for a second. The jacket fit exactly how I’d hoped—broad across his shoulders, tapered at the waist, sleeves the perfect length to show a hint of wrist. He looked…like the person I’d designed it for, even before I admitted that to myself.
My cheeks went hot. I dropped my gaze to his chest, where my own stitching lines stared back at me.
“Looks good,” I said, crisp and clinical. “How does it feel?”
His eyes searched my face, too intent. “It feels great,” he said, but there was something else under the words. “You nailed it. Good job, Em.”
“Perfect.” I jotted a note that didn’t actually say anything. “Any pulling when you reach overhead? Try the motion. Like you’re going for a pass.”
He lifted his arms. The jacket moved with him, no bunching. I let myself be proud for half a second before gluing my attention back to my notebook.
Professional. Friendly. Fine.
“Okay,” I said, stepping back. “I think we’re really close. I’ll send updated notes to the vendor.”
“You fucking nailed this, Em,” Quinn said. “Seriously. This is way better than the usual ‘let’s slap a logo on a boxy hoodie and call it merch’ thing.”
“High praise from you, Quinn,” I said, fighting a smile. “I might quote you on that.”
“You should.” He shrugged out of the jacket and set it carefully back on the table, then leaned against it, watching me. “So, big-shot designer. Are you coming out with us tonight to celebrate your genius?”
My brain stuttered. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. Off day tomorrow, no curfew. Couple of us are grabbing dinner, maybe hitting a bar. You could come judge our civilian outfits. Make sure we’re on brand.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to say no. To go home, crawl into Noah’s guest bed, and stare at the ceiling while replaying every dumb thing I’d ever said to him. Then after a good pout, I’d work on more content for socials to get sales.
But Noah was right there, close enough that I could feel his attention like a physical weight. And the last thing I wanted was for him to sense how off-balance I still was.
Super friendly. Totally unaffected. That was the assignment. “I’ve got plans tonight,” I heard myself say, too breezy. “Sorry.”
I didn’t wanna hang out with the team or Noah. Quinn was a little too smooth, and the guys were rowdy. I’d be safe, I knew, but it felt…wrong. I shrugged, smiling at him to let him down easy.
Quinn raised a brow. “Oh yeah? You got a hot date or something?”
My mouth opened before my brain could veto it. “Actually…yes.”
Both men stilled.
Noah’s shoulders went tight, almost imperceptibly. Quinn’s grin turned sharp and interested. The room seemed to hold its breath. Shit. Shit. Panic set in my ribs at my stupid lie.
“You do?” Quinn asked, a frown between his eyebrows.
“Yes.” I fiddled with my pen cap, the lie snowballing down the hill. “I’m, um, trying this new dating app. Busy people, allegedly serious, all that jazz. I’m meeting someone for drinks tonight.”
The lie wasn’t technically true. Yet. I could make it true. I would make it true. Future Me could suffer the consequences; Present Me needed the cover.
Quinn let out a low whistle. “Look at you. Okay, Coach Love Life. Who is this? Where’s he taking you? What are you wearing?”
“Someplace downtown,” I said vaguely. “It’s…new. Cool lighting. Lots of plants.” That described half the city, but whatever.
“Is he hot?” Quinn pressed. “On a scale from one to me.”
“Wow,” I said. “Confidence really is your pre-workout, huh?”
He laughed. “Come on. Give us details. Position? Job? Is he taller than you in those damn boots?”
I lifted my chin. “He’s a software engineer actually. And height is not a requirement.”
“Oh, she’s going for brains,” Quinn said, looking delighted. “Dangerous.”
I shrugged, pretending my heart wasn’t jackhammering. “Brains are nice. Stable paycheck is nice. My dad will combust if I ever date someone who doesn’t know what a 401(k) is.”
Noah finally spoke, his voice steadier than I expected. “When did you start on this app, Em?”
I risked a quick glance at him. His jaw was tight, eyes unreadable. I didn’t like the distance, but it had to be there. For a little.
“Oh, something I’m trying,” I said, keeping my tone light. “New experiences and what not.”
Something flickered across his face, gone too fast for me to catch. He nodded once, tight and firm.
“Good,” he said quietly. “You deserve someone who shows up for you.”
The words hit me square in the sternum. For a second, my carefully constructed persona slipped.
Then I pasted on a smile so bright my cheeks hurt. “Exactly,” I chirped. “And, you know, it’ll be good practice. I’m rusty. Haven’t been on a real date since…forever.”
“Any guy would be lucky,” Quinn said. “If he bails, you let me know. I’ll take you for drinks and show you what you’re missing. And you damn well know if you want any experiences, I’m your guy.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful for the familiar banter. “You’d talk about yourself for two hours and call it a public service.”
“As I should.” He winked. “Gotta be good at something off the field.”
“You’re good at making my job harder,” Bea said dryly from the doorway.
I hadn’t even realized she’d walked in. She leaned against the frame, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Em, you done torturing them?” she asked. “Coach wants them for treatment in ten.”
“Yes, go,” I said, waving them away. “The sooner you leave, the sooner I can make more magic.”
Quinn saluted me and sauntered out, talking trash to Bea about who’d win in a sprint. Noah lingered half a beat longer.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Do you need dinner before you go? I can make something.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” I smiled tightly at him.
His gaze caught mine, and for once I couldn’t look away. There was something there—regret, maybe. “Is this…safe?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, annoyed at the insinuation that I wasn’t making smart choices. He had no idea I was lying through my teeth.
“Okay. Have fun,” he said, his jaw clenching as he shoved his hand in his pockets. His posture was completely wrong.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice softer than I wanted. “I’m sure it’ll be…something.”
We stared at each other a heartbeat too long. My chest ached, my brain screaming say something, fix it, tell him you didn’t mean—
I broke eye contact first, turning back to my notebook. God, I had to find a date. Or fake that I had one. Or leave the apartment for hours and pretend. Who did I know that could meet me for a few hours? Or did I message someone, desperate?
“Em, hey.” Noah’s voice neared me, the deep intonation vibrating my chest. “Text me if you need a ride home or anything.”
“Pretty sure my app date can handle that,” I said lightly, hating how defensive my voice sounded. Was he gonna leave Miles at home and pick me up? No. “Are you able to feed Sassy for me tonight? Let her out once?”
His jaw ticked. “Right. Of course, I will. But if you need help, I’ll be there.”
He stepped back, the distance between us stretching like a rubber band pulled too tight.
“You really are such a good friend, Noah.” I said the words, hating how they sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Friend felt too shallow for what he was to me, and the “f” word hung in the air between us.
His jaw worked up and down, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to respond to that.
I waved and turned around. “See you later, bud.”