3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
~JESSICA~
The paper rose sits on my kitchen counter, a little crumpled, but I managed to get it home safe, where it now mocks me from across the living room.
I’ve been lapping my small apartment like a rabid zoo animal since I woke up, one hand in my hair, the other waving my phone.
“There are one hundred and twenty thousand new people following me, Dannie.” I stop mid-step, staring at her. “Overnight.”
“Mhm,” she says, legs curled under her on the couch, sipping her coffee .
I shove my phone in her face. Notifications are still coming in so fast the screen looks like it’s having a seizure.
“Look at this! I woke up to… what even is this number? Two hundred thousand notifications? There are comments from people who didn’t even know I existed yesterday.”
“That’s an upgrade.” Dannie slurps loudly.
“An upgrade?” I stop pacing long enough to glare. “Half the comments are my followers going, ‘OMG, cute dress Jess, did you stitch that zipper by hand?’ And the other half are…” I scroll and read one out loud. “‘Gold-digging clout-chasing nobody.’ ‘Captain deserves better, idc.’”
I throw my head back. “I am not emotionally equipped for this level of internet psychosis.”
“They’re obsessed with you.” Dannie says, unfazed.
“No, they’re obsessed with him. Me? They want to skin me alive for touching him.” I run a hand down my face. “I had no idea I messed with the Captain.”
I flop onto the couch beside her, limbs heavy. “It was supposed to be a normal night with pizza and Netflix. And now I’m getting death threats. ”
“They’re just rabid little puck bunnies,” Dannie says, reaching for her phone. “Happens to every girl who breathes in the same ZIP code as their hockey gods. And now your follower count is exploding. Your collabs are probably popping. Have you checked your inbox?”
“I’m too scared,” I groan, dragging a throw pillow over my face.
“There’s no such thing as bad press anymore, Jess,” Dannie says, patting the pillow. “The world finally sees you.”
I peek out from under the pillow. “It doesn’t see me, Dannie. It wants to eat me alive.”
She scoffs. “They’ll move on in a couple of days when he’s seen with someone else.”
The thought makes my stomach twist in a way I don’t want to examine.
“Unless you don’t want him with someone else.” She tilts her head, watching me.
“Please.” I sit up and scoff.
“You looked like you wanted to climb him like a tree. ”
“I was improvising.” I defend myself. “There was a man cornering me at the bar and no one was doing anything, and this mountain of muscle was walking by so I panicked and grabbed him. He just looked hot, scary, and hot.”
“You said hot twice.”
“It deserves to be said twice,” I mumble, earning a grin from Dannie.
“You little simp,” she laughs, poking at my ribs.
“I’m not a simp. I’m a woman with eyes.”
“And a desperate need to get railed by the captain of a hockey team.”
“Do not.” I smack her leg with a pillow. “I should post something,” I blurt.
“What?” Dannie looks up from her coffee like I just suggested donating a kidney to a cult.
“Just… clear the air.” I shrug. “Let people know it was a misunderstanding. That we’re not together. That I don’t even know him.”
“Oh my God, Jess.” She throws her head back with a laugh.
“You would be the biggest idiot on this planet if you did that.” She sets her mug down and points at me like I’m a slow student.
“You’re trending. You realize this could change everything, right?
Brands are watching. You’ve always had talent, Jess, but this made people look. ”
“But what if he’s pissed? What if he didn’t want this attention?” I shake my head, chewing on my thumbnail.
“Oh, please.” Dannie waves a hand. “No man on this planet is going to be upset about being seen with you. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re stunning, you’re talented, you’re hilarious. And if he’s half as smart as I think he is, he’s not gonna be mad at all.”
“You think he’s into it?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s either into it or he’s gay. And he doesn’t look gay to me.”
Dannie stretches and stands, brushing cookie crumbs off her sweatshirt before wandering toward the kitchen. “More coffee?” she calls, rattling around with mugs and spoons.
“God, no.” I flop back against the couch cushions, one arm thrown over my face. “If I have one more cup of coffee, my heart’s going to leap out of my chest.”
“Orange juice it is,” she snorts, banging cupboards .
While she’s busy clattering, my brain goes back to last night.
I shift uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of my oversized T-shirt.
His cologne is still clinging to me—woodsy, sharp, unmistakably male.
My skin smells like him where his hand had spread across my waist, where his chest pressed against mine.
I’d stumbled home last night too exhausted to shower, and now every time I move, the scent rises like a ghost.
“I reek of him.” I groan into the pillow.
“Not the worst problem to have.” Dannie snickers, setting a chipped mug on the counter.
I sink deeper into the couch, dragging my phone back to my chest. I thumb open my notifications, half-prepared to find more strangers calling me a talentless bimbo.
I swipe through hate comments, thirsty DMs, and a brand trying to offer me free teeth whitening. An email makes me pause.
From: [email protected] Subject: Formal Invitation – Community Outreach Even t
The words blur for a second before snapping into focus. I sit up so fast the cologne scent rises from my skin like smoke, wrapping around me again.
“Uhhh… Dannie?” My voice cracks halfway through her name.
“Mmh?” she calls over the clink of a glass.
“What’s… what’s his team called again?”
“The Miami Blazers. Why?” She pokes her head around the corner, eyebrows scrunched.
“Because I just got an email from them.” I turn my phone toward her like it’s radiating heat.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Her jaw drops.
I nod, eyes wide. “Lemme see.” She hurries over, half-forgetting the juice in her hand, nearly sloshing it all over the floor.
I tap the email open with shaky fingers and start reading.
“Dear Ms. Brooks, on behalf of the Miami Blazers, we would like to extend a personal invitation to you for our upcoming Community Outreach Gala, benefiting the Blazer Youth Foundation.
This event is a private charity function hosted by the team and key franchise partners.
In recognition of your public commitment to community causes and sustainable fashion, we believe your presence would be a meaningful addition to the evening.
The event will be held this Saturday at 7:00 PM, at a private venue in Coral Gables. Should you accept, transportation will be provided to and from the event from a location of your choosing. Please respond at your earliest convenience to confirm your attendance and coordinate logistics.
Sincerely, Tinnie Delgado. Media Relations Manager. Miami Blazers Hockey Club.”
Dannie whistles low before gulping down her juice.
“I’m not going,” I say, dropping the phone on the coffee table like it’s radioactive.
“What?”
“I’m not going,” I repeat. “This has trap written all over it. I’m not about to show up somewhere and become the butt of a joke.”
“Jess. Babe. Think about it. That’s your invite to a Blazers event. You could wear one of your own dresses. That’s press, exposure, eyes on your brand.”
“I don’t want eyes, Dannie. I want peace. And maybe a nap. ”
“You can nap after you trend on Vogue’s Instagram.” She crosses her arms. “You show up in something you made, tag it, and boom, free marketing. The same people calling you a gold digger will be buying your next drop. Use it.”
Dannie grins and flops back onto the couch, victorious.
“You make it sound so easy.” I sink deeper into the couch, rubbing my temples.
“It is easy.” She tilts her head at me. “What’s stopping you?”
I don’t answer right away. The truth sounds pathetic, even in my head. “Do you think he’ll be there?” I finally ask, voice small.
“A hundred percent, babe,” Dannie says, grinning knowingly.
The thrill of possibly seeing this man again… my heart thuds once, hard enough to make me dizzy.
“And if they invited me just to make me stand in front of cameras and say we’re not together?” I lift my gaze to hers, throat tight. “Then what? ”
“Then you do it in a killer dress.” Dannie shrugs with a grin. “With your chin high. Let them know you’re hot, single, and talented.”
“Well then… I guess I’m gonna need to pick a dress.” I sigh, letting my head fall back.
The black Mercedes glides to a stop in front of the hotel.
My palms are sweating around my clutch, and my heartbeat is a drumline inside my ears.
Through the tinted window, I can already see the red carpet, camera flashes, the blur of microphones, a cluster of reporters shouting names I don’t recognize.
The driver opens my door, and cool night air rushes in like a dare.
For a second, I stay frozen. Then I remember what Dannie said. Killer dress. Chin high.
So I take a breath, smile like I’m not about to pass out, and step out of the car.
The noise hits instantly, and so do the bright lights. I keep my eyes forward, my face calm, my body screaming to run, but the moment my gown catches the light, I feel the shift .
Murmurs ripple, heads turn, and cameras flash even more.
The dress is mine—every stitch, every bead, every sculpted fold that took me way too many sleepless nights to finish.
Black silk that moves like water, the neckline clean and bold, the back open.
It’s a dress that makes you feel like a Bond villain.
I walk just fast enough to look like a woman with somewhere to be and make my way up the wide stone steps, ignoring the yelling behind me.
The red carpet leads me straight into a glass-paneled entryway, all gleaming marble and chandeliers dripping crystal. My heels click too loud against the floor as I approach the check-in table, where a hostess in a sleek red dress waits with an iPad.