Page 33 of Hard to Fake

I take a pic and send it.

Dots appear, then stop.

Brooke: Gross.

Miles: Let me guess, Princess, you don’t sweat. You glisten?

Brooke: Listen, you have to look good, or this whole game is over before it’s started.

I’m a little offended she thinks I would bring her image down. I’m used to being part of the team, repping the Kodiaks and my teammates. If you ask Chloe, head of PR, each of us is our own brand, and mine’s doing fine. Better than fine.

Miles: You want to come over to my place and go through my closet?

It’s a joke, and a challenge. Me calling her on being a little overenthusiastic about this entire sorority weekend ploy.

I glance up as Clay and one of our young guys cross the room, towels slung over their shoulders.

The shower is beckoning.

Brooke: Deal. See you tomorrow.

My brows lift.

I’m edgy from the news of Atlas being out and what Coach said about my game. Spending an afternoon flipping through my closet with Brooke feels like the last thing I need to do.

Except the prospect of doing exactly that has me wondering what it’d be like.

On impulse, I go on her social. Her video story is of her walking from a car to the party in her sparkly shoes. The camera flashes glimpses of long, golden legs as she strides up the driveway. She’s laughing, talking about how she’s going to find Toto and get the hell out of Kansas.

My lips curve without permission, my thumb hovering over the Follow button.

“You forget where the showers are?” Rookie claps a hand on my shoulder, and I jump, dropping the phone into my locker.

When I grab for the phone, I realize I clicked Follow.

No take-backs.

It’s fine. Nothing weird about following her.

If we’re spending the entire weekend together next week, it only makes sense.

8

BROOKE

My knock is casual. Three raps.

Miles’s door is painted cream like all the others in this high-end condo building, but standing in front of it feels different.

There’s nothing unusual about me showing up at his place on the weekend. His place, where he eats and sleeps and probably bangs anything that moves.

Except I’ve never been here before. Miles has been on the team as long as my brother, and since I graduated college, across the dozen Kodiaks parties and events I’ve been to, I never wound up here.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure he’s ever hosted one. For a guy who’s so outgoing and popular, it’s surprising.

I’m dressed in heeled boots and a short skirt over black tights. If I spent extra time getting ready, it was only to prove to him or the world that what you wear matters.

I’m not my mother—I don’t have constituents imposing all their opinions on me—but it’s still important to present yourself to the world intentionally. I’m here to make sure he has appropriate clothing for the reunion. No matter how hot he is, there’s no point bringing him if he can’t walk the walk.

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