Page 35 of Game Day

Fuck. This girl has all of me.

She's seen the darkest parts of me, and she's still here, looking at me as though I'm it for her.

"You two need anything?" Sierra asks from somewhere in my peripheral vision.

Nova's eyes move over mine, her gaze bright and a million miles deep.

"Nothing," I reply.

My legs straddle hers, and I want to be alone with her almost as much as I want to never move from this place. No matter what happens this week with basketball or the house or my parents, we have this.

We have us.

11

NOVA

Three days until the wedding

"Jay Z and Beyoncé.” I stab my finger in the air.

"No." Brooke tosses her hair as she cuts me a look from the driver's seat.

"Posh and David Beckham?”

This time, I get a sigh. "No."

My face screws up. "Snoop Dogg?"

"He's not married. Dammit, Nova, I said famous people have gotten married here, but you’re not taking this guessing game at all seriously.” Brooke slaps a palm against the steering wheel of her car.

Brooke wanted to help me go over the venue arrangements with the planner. I’m glad to have the help, though partly this feels like making up for Mari hanging with me yesterday.

I remember how I felt when I came to Mari’s wedding and learned she’d picked Chloe as MOH over me. It wasn’t about a role—it was about closeness. It had seemed like we weren’t as close as I thought we were.

Which is why even though we decided not to have bridal parties, I’m reminding Brooke she’s my closest friend.

She parks and we get out, retrieving four huge squares wrapped in white.

"These are very mysterious," she comments as we carry the packages up to the resort.

Brooke and I meet the wedding planner at the reception desk.

First, she takes us to the reception area. “Then we’ll head out to the deck,” she suggests as she escorts us through the room. "We'll have it laid out with round tables seating eight. You didn’t want a head table, so the equivalent will seat”—she consults her list—“the bride and groom, groom’s parents, groom’s sister and partner, and bride’s sister and brother-in-law.”

“That sounds right,” I say.

“I’ll send you the layout when we finish,” she promises, resting a hand on the back of one chair. She gestures to a long, narrow area next to the tables. “This area is for dancing.”

"It's not enough room," Brooke says. "There's barely?—”

Barking interrupts her, and a little dog bolts across the rich carpet and throws himself onto Brooke’s sheer patterned tights.

"Hi, handsome!” Brooke croons as she scoops up Waffles. “Tell me I'm wrong about this layout,” she challenges the furry face licking at hers.

"You’re wrong about the layout." An amused male voice comes from behind us.

Miles leans against the doorway in faded jeans and a navy zip-up sweater that makes his eyes look the color of the sky on a sunny day. His hair sticks up as if he drove a convertible the entire way here.

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