41. Georgia
I think that I’m growing gray hairs at the ripe age of twenty-one, because I have never been so freaking stressed in my life. I couldn’t find more than two more guys to walk in the show after the fiasco of them all quitting. Now, it’s the day of the show, and I’m sweating freaking bullets.
“If I could get the boys to do quick changes, then maybe I’ll be able to—”
A loud crashing followed by a thundering of footsteps cuts me off. My back goes ramrod straight, my brows soaring to my hairline as not one, but ten of Derek’s teammates come rushing backstage.
It’s still early in the day, and the show doesn’t start until six p.m., so what the hell are they doing here?
“What are you guys—”
“Sorry we’re late!” Blake exclaims, huffing as he tries to catch his breath, “We got held up at The Sugar Hole. Mama Bear told us to get you cupcakes, but The Sweet Tooth doesn’t open for another hour, and he also insisted that we get here before ten a.m., so we got donuts. You like donuts, right?”
My jaw is on the ground.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of the panting hockey player, but I can’t.
“I’m sorry… What?”
“I thought you’d like strawberry donuts, so I picked that one for you,” Braxton chimes. He gives me a bright smile before dropping what looks to be a gym bag on the ground.
I step back and take in my surroundings.
In front of me are currently ten hockey players, all looking fresh-faced and bright-eyed as they stare at me.
The boys of the Summerfield hockey team are attractive—there’s no doubt about that.
But they could also be the most awkward bunch of men that I’ve ever met in my life, especially when attention is on them, and they’re not on the ice.
I’ve seen Derek bomb so many post-game interviews and have to redo them because he gets awkward on camera, which is shocking considering he makes cooking content on social media.
I didn’t know this fact until I saw myself eating his pancakes on my timeline.
That video alone had over a hundred thousand likes, but his account is all faceless content.
Same goes for Jace, who has hundreds of thousands of followers across all platforms, but he only posts content of his art and hockey.
“You brought donuts?” I ask my words laced with confusion as I look between the guys. “Why are you guys here?”
Jace is next to step up, looking between the guys as they all nod at him, their faces suddenly grim.
“The goalie rule has been enacted, and as his first decree, the boss has told us to help you,” he says, his tone grave as he bows his head and then drops to his knee and bows like a knight.
My heart drops as the rest of the guys do the same. Having Jace bow down to me would be comical, had this situation not confused the absolute shit out of me.
This morning, Derek and Delilah were gone when I woke up. There was no breakfast made, and zero sign that they were home at all. I texted Derek over ten times before giving up and heading here. I’m hungry, tired, and a bit annoyed.
Now I have ten hockey players staring at me and waiting for me to make the next move.
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair and look at all the guys. If they’re here to help me, then I’m putting all of them to work.
“Look, this show means a lot to me, so I need everything to run smoothly. I got two boys from the drama department to walk in the show; I only need four more guys. However, I do need stagehands. Can you guys handle that?”
The boys look at each other, seeming to talk with their eyes before they all land back on me and nod.
“Great, I need measurements… Have you all—”
My phone pings, catching my attention for a second. It’s from Jace…
“Sent. Anything else?” he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as I grin.
“Thank you.”
The guys are actually a big help. I’ve got Blake, Jace, Braxton, and Alec to walk in the show while the others are helping backstage.
It wasn’t too hard to get the guys fitted, especially since half of them already knew their measurements and were relatively the same size as the baseball players. I’m making slight adjustments to the waist of Blake’s coat, chuckling lightly when he freaks out after getting nicked with a pin.
“I’m going to tell my girlfriend that you’re trying to kill me,” he says, tutting as I laugh.
“And I’m going to tell my best friend that her boyfriend is a big baby who’s afraid of pins.”
He frowns, turning his head away from me, and I keep working on him, tailoring his suit to his body. I’ll admit, my hands are a bit shaky.
If this show goes well, I’ll know if I can make it in this industry or not. Wiping away the sweat on my forehead, I sigh, going back to make sure Blake can move in his clothing.
Mom told me this morning that she had invited Dad to the show. I know she meant well, but the idea of my father being in the crowd only heightens my anxiety. What if he brings his new fiancée? Would Mom be okay sitting in the crowd near his mistress?
I take a shaky breath, double-checking my work on Blake’s suit, and give him a thumbs up before gesturing for Alec to take the stand.
Blake hesitates, looking down at me with a curious look before he grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Tonight’s going to be great. Don’t stress out,” he says, donning his signature smile before patting my head like an older brother and hopping off the stand.
Blake’s grown to be one of my closest friends after he began dating Cleo. He’s been there for all of us girls without complaint, and I’m thankful, because his words have diminished my stress tenfold.
By the time I’m done tailoring Alec’s clothes and finished checking over the girls’ makeup, I’m sweating buckets, and the stress that I’d rid myself of is back at an all-time high.
I’m putting the finishing touches on Sienna’s makeup when one of the show runners pops her head into the dressing room.
“Show starts in five minutes, Georgia. You’re last in our lineup. Break a leg, models,” she says, giving everyone a thumbs up before backing out.
Everyone halts; only our eyes move as we all share one singular thought.
It’s time.
I don’t know how I’ve managed for this long without a coffee or food, but when six o’clock rolls around, and the show begins, I plop down on the couch and breathe.
“Donut?” Denver offers, holding the sweet treat up to my nose, grinning like a madman.
Without words, I shove half of the donut in my mouth and sigh, “This is what stress looks like in human form.” I say, gesturing down to myself.
Denver covers her mouth, laughing as she takes a bite of her own treat. We sit in a shared silence, watching as life moves fast around us. She’s finished her donut and is now staring at me, a bit of pride in her gaze as she places her hand on my knee.
“Your clothes are going to kick ass tonight. I mean, I’m going to be on the runway so—”
She laughs as I push her shoulder. “Behave on that stage.”
Denver chuckles lightly and nods, “I’ll behave, but only because you’re asking nicely.”
We both share a laugh, hugging one another as the door to the dressing room opens again and a familiar face pokes her head inside.
Lidia.
She gives me a huge smile and waves me over, completely bypassing the fact that she’s not supposed to be back here.
“I feel like I’ve seen her before…” Denver trails off, squinting as she cleans up her red lipstick in her compact mirror.
Chuckling, I pat her knee as I stand.
“Maybe because she’s the reason I’m not in jail right now.”
Lidia is grinning from ear to ear when she and I take a step outside the dressing room. Her signature red lips are coated in a nice gloss, and her hair is in a small French twist. She looks like the elegant wedding planner that she is.
She pulls me in for a soft hug, taking me by surprise. Her sweet smell of roses clouds my senses, and I freeze.
I don’t know what to do!
Do I hug her back, pat her back? I grimace as my hands move on their own, patting her awkwardly, but when she pulls away, her smile is still there.
“Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but what’re you doing here?”
If she is surprised by my straightforwardness, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she takes my hands in hers and gives me a motherly smile.
“Derek has been talking about your show since you guys came down to Texas for spring break. I think our family group chat has received at least twenty texts about the show.” She chuckles softly, encasing one of my hands with both of hers.
Lidia gives me a long, steadying look, her eyes softening around the edges.
“I know we didn’t start off on the right foot, Georgia, and I hope you can forgive me. I was rude in the beginning, but I want you to know that I am proud of you. You’ve created something, and I can’t wait to see what it is.”
Who knew that Derek’s mom was secretly a softie under all of that…
“Thank you, Lidia.”
She gives my shoulders one last squeeze and smiles at me before leaving back to what I presume to be where the guests are seated, but I can’t shake the one thing that’s been on my mind this entire day.
Where the hell is my husband?
My anxiety is through the roof as my models go out onto the stage. I’m a mess of fabrics and pearlized pins as I make last-minute fixes backstage, and all I want right now is some pasta and a hug.
Is that too much to ask for?
I’m on the edge of my seat, watching from the wings as the boys absolutely annihilate the runway.
The good thing about using athletes as models is that they’re not shy at all.
The boys are confident as they go out, each of them doing their own poses at the end of the runway before turning back and exiting.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding as a hand pushes me forward a bit.
One of the showrunners gives me a small smile. “It’s your time to shine.”
Exhaling deeply, I nod as both sets of my models give smiles of encouragement. I’m thankful that Sienna and Denver forced me to change before the show started because when I walk out on stage, the audience gasps.