Chapter 11 Josie
Josie
“What you want to do is apply a pea-sized drop to both cheeks,” I explained in front of the camera. “Just like this.”
In the two days since my TikTok channel had gone semi-viral, the rush of views, comments, and orders had gotten the attention of the TikTok algorithm.
Each new video I released got more views than the last. My most recent one, a video about a brand of eye shadow, had thirty thousand views, and over a hundred affiliate sales!
Now I was posting twice a day, and was hoping to upload three on Saturday and four on Sunday. I had no idea how long this tiny amount of fame would last, but I wanted to take advantage of it while I could.
The comments on my videos were becoming increasingly more unhinged. Fans kept asking me what makeup I’d worn on my date with Grayson, and wanted to know what he liked the most. As if I would even know that. It all felt so pathetic, but I was making money from it, so I didn’t mind being a sell-out.
I was kind of dreading my next date with Grayson, though.
I was afraid he would be even more insufferable than he was on the first date.
I consoled myself with the thought that even if the team reneged on their ten grand paycheck again, I would still get something out of this.
This was a chance for my TikTok channel to gain some amount of notoriety and legitimacy.
Cash was the ultimate incentive.
I spent all day, from six o’clock in the morning until four in the afternoon, making and editing videos.
Then I put on my uniform and drove to work at the Frost Bank Center.
The arena was chilly as soon as I walked through the door, a reminder that there was a hockey game tonight rather than basketball.
And I’d been so busy posting videos that I’d forgotten to wear extra layers.
It was going to be a long night.
After prepping the concession stand, I snuck away to use the bathroom. On the way back, I ducked through the tunnel leading into the arena stands. The game wasn’t starting for another hour, and players from both teams were skating on the ice, doing their warm-ups.
Grayson was easy to pick out: he was bigger than many of the other players, and wore the letter C on the front of his jersey to indicate he was the captain.
For a few minutes, I watched him glide effortlessly around the ice, passing the puck and talking to his teammates.
From up here, at a distance, he looked like a leader.
Patting the other players on the back and giving words of encouragement before the game.
But I knew the real man underneath the jersey. I’d seen him without any filter during our date.
It pissed me off that he had everyone else fooled.
Sharon stepped up next to me. “Boss is looking for you.”
“I swear, if he makes me carry the beer backpack…”
“Carter’s doing it,” Sharon replied. “Boss just needs someone to clean out the ice machine.” She nodded down at the rink. “So, what’s the plan for your next date?”
“No idea.”
Sharon furrowed her brow. “Really? You don’t even know what the two of you are doing?”
“They told me it will be Thursday. Tomorrow night. But I have zero other information. I bet it’s because he’s refusing to go out with me again.” I smiled. “It would make me so happy if he’s too stubborn to hold up his end of the deal.”
“Ariella Flowers is playing a concert tomorrow night! Maybe that’s what you two are doing.”
“A date where the music is so loud I don’t have to listen to anything Grayson says? That sounds like my perfect evening.”
Sharon laughed. “I’m still skeptical that he was that bad on your first date.”
“I assure you, he was.”
We returned to the concession stand. I cleaned out the ice machine with Sharon’s help, and then we began unboxing soft pretzels before moving them to the heating rack.
When we were done with that, I saw someone lingering in the concourse outside the stand.
He looked familiar, and it took me a few seconds to place him.
It was the photographer guy from our first date. He was holding a camera and glancing at his watch. Behind him, leaning against a support pillar, was a tech guy holding a shoulder-mounted video camera.
“Uh oh,” I said.
Sharon glanced at me, then at the two camera guys. “What’s going on?”
“I have a feeling I’m about to find out what our second date is.”
A few seconds later, Grayson Steele himself came walking toward our concession stand, surrounded by an entourage of security guards and fans.
The weight of practice still clung to him in the most delicious way—sweat darkening the collar of his shirt, and his damp hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck.
His jersey was slung over one shoulder, exposing the sculpted line of his biceps.
His green eyes found mine through the crowd of fans that had stopped to stare, and for a few seconds I forgot how to breathe.
Confidence radiated from the man as he stopped in front of my stand, smiling like he was up to no good.
He smelled like sweat and victory. Like every late-night fantasy I’d never admit to having.
Then I remembered who he was, and how our first date had gone. Cockiness radiated from him, not confidence. And that smile hid a thousand unspoken words, insults, jabs, and criticisms.
The photographer and video guy aimed their devices in our direction.
“Our first date ended too quickly,” Grayson said. They were very obviously not his words, but something that had been written for him to say. “I’d love to take you out again.”
The crowd practically swooned for him. I might have done the same if I didn’t know this was all a charade. His smile never touched his eyes.
“I’d love to go out with you again!” I said with exaggerated sweetness.
Sharon kicked me, but none of the watching crowd noticed that I was being sarcastic.
“How about the Spurs game on Thursday?” Grayson asked. “I know you’re probably working, but I think I can pull some strings and get you the night off.”
“Going on a date where I work? That sounds like the perfect date.”
“Same,” Grayson said, and for a brief moment I could tell he felt the same way I did about the whole thing.
“See you then,” I said, hoping that would end this whole spectacle.
Grayson glanced up at the board behind me. “While I’m here, can I get two large beers?”
The crowd’s laughter felt scripted.
“Oh, right. I’ve got a game to play.” He smacked his forehead. “We’ll save the beers for Thursday.”
He punctuated it with a wink, then turned around and walked away. Some of the crowd followed him, begging for selfies and autographs.
“Ugh. It pisses me off how hot he is,” I said.
Sharon sighed wistfully. “Is it too late to switch places with you?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, turning to the line of fans who were waiting to order.
“I’ll take a small Coke and two pretzels,” the first woman in line said. Then she grinned and added, “You’re so lucky!”
“Oh yeah. I’m the luckiest girl in the world!”
My sarcasm was lost on her. She and all the other fans couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to go out with Grayson. Which only annoyed me even more.
“At least you know what the date is, now!” Sharon said enthusiastically.