Page 43 of Set Play

“It’s literally the first week of March. Why the hell is it above twenty-three Celsius?” I whine as I glare down at my weather app, ignoring Gracie’s snickers from where she’s perched in front of a mirror.

We’re in Arizona this weekend for the Storm’s first game against Phoenix CF, and I packed what I thought was appropriate attire for it. Apparently, I didn’t get the memo that Arizona doesn’t recognize winter as an official season.

Like seriously? It’s too early in the year to be this warm.

Fuck, I wish I was working the game. It would make this whole outfit decision so much easier. Maybe I shouldn’t even bother going.

It’s not like Mateo has talked to me since our FaceTime chat a few days ago. I realize I fucked up, I just don’t know how. My lips twist into a scowl as I recall the conversation. It shouldn’t bother me. If anything, him backing off helps maintain the boundary between us. It makes maintaining my hatred easier, but still…

I don’t like how things are between us right now.

Scouring my suitcase, I try to distract myself, but start to lose hope in finding anything better suited for the weather. Black jeans and Memphis Storm jersey it is. I’ll just forgo an undershirt. I’ll be fine.

I catch Gracie looking at me through the mirror in front of her again, but she quickly ducks her head to hide her smile. “Gracie, I swear, if you do not stop staring at me while giggling, I will—”

A knock at the door interrupts my threat, making me huff in annoyance as I toss my poorly planned outfit onto the bed. With one last glare in Gracie’s direction, which she studiously ignores as she curls her hair, I stomp across the room. The instant the door swings open, Reya barges in, brandishing a pair of stone washed denim shorts.

“Put these on!” she demands in greeting.

I skeptically take the shorts and move toward the en suite bathroom to try them on, listening as Reya turns her attention onto Gracie. “Why the hell are you so dolled up? Your ponytail is like a patented part of your uniform, so what’s the deal?”

“It is not! Sometimes, I just want to feel hella pretty. What’s wrong with that?”

Thankfully, the shorts fit over my hips and zip without any issue. Stepping out of the bathroom, I turn to the body length mirror and check that the shorts don’t leave my ass cheeks hanging out.

“She’s right, G. You never put in this much effort for games. Like you’re actually putting on makeup right now. So, spill.”

“It’s…just this guy I used to know works for Phoenix and I want him to see what he’s missing.”

Not sensing Gracie’s wish to leave the topic alone, Reya continues to push her. “Okay, but aren’t you dating Juh-something? Plus, we play Phoenix twice a year, so why now?”

“Normally, I take trips with my mom around the time of the Phoenix games, but we had a bit of a falling out this summer, so here I am. And his name is Daniel. I am dating him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Kai to know what the hell he lost out on after everything he put me through. ”

I grab the jersey I bought when I was offered the job and start to pull it on, but Gracie’s words have me freezing halfway into it. “Wait, Kai as in Kai Finley? Phoenix’s goalie?”

Only silence greets me and when I finally pull my head free and turn to meet their eyes, they are staring at the jersey with barely contained joy. “What? Does it look bad? Is there something on it?” I ask, hoping that my building panic isn’t obvious.

When they continue to stare, I spin around to scour myself for horrible flaws in the mirror. Gracie’s eyes track the movement as I pull my hair around to the front making sure it wasn’t the cause of their odd looks. I watch as she nudges Reya, tilting her head toward me with the beginnings of a smirk tugging at her lips. Reya elbows her in the ribs, but it’s too late.

Before I can demand they tell me what the hell is wrong with my outfit, Reya speaks up. “Girl. I have two things to say about that outfit. Number one, those shorts are yours now. They look way better on you than they ever did on me.”

My cheeks heat with the start of a blush, and I duck my head. Just say thank you for the compliment. Quit making things weird!

“And two,” I’ve just gathered the courage to thank her when the teasing note in Reya’s voice forces it to cower again, “whose jersey is that?”

“Um, Cillian Gray’s. Why?” I turn my head to confirm that I didn’t mistakenly buy Sterling’s jersey, but I’m met with the sight of “GRAY” written across my shoulder blades.

Gracie and Reya look like they are trying to hold in a burst of giggles. “What is the big deal? Cillian is a great defender.”

“Oh, no arguments here. But why aren’t you wearing your boyfriend’s jersey?” My eyes flit between the women standing in front of me while my brain tries desperately to piece together the puzzle in front of me.

Jersey…boyfriend ...wait…surely they don’t mean…

I mean, sure, I’ve read books where the guy is obsessed with the idea of his girl in his jersey, but that doesn’t really happen. Right?

A pitying snort leaves Gracie as she shakes her head, “Reyes is going to flip his shit when he sees you. Bet you’ll either be regretting or thanking that jersey tomorrow.”

“You two are ridiculous. First, that shit only happens in books. Second, we’re not that serious. Third, that’d mean he would have to actually talk to me.” With that, I walk out the room ignoring their snickers and the thoughts now running through my mind.