Page 6 of Face-Off with my Childhood Best Friend

“Then pull her back to you. Speak to her,” Connor says, dragging his towel from his bag.

“I did. She asked me for a favor,” I say. “She wants me to recruit ten hockey players for a charity modeling event she’s agreed to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she spoke to me like we were old friends and not...”

“Did you?”

I nod. “Right before I turned psycho on her because by then she’d signed up with an agent who was convinced she was going to be big.”

Connor puffs his lips out, and I can see my frustration is seeking into him.

“Is she the one that got away?” he asks, dragging his sweater over his head.

I nod. “She’s the one, Connor.”

He smiles. “Then we need to drum up ten hockey players for this charity event and get you back together.”

He pushes his fingers into his blond hair and grins. “I always thought I should’ve been a model. That’s me and you. Eight to go.”

“Nate and Oliver.” I brainstorm about who is best to fulfill her request. Gathering ten hockey players at such short notice seems like a daunting task, but if it means spending time with her, I’m willing to go the extra mile.

“Yes. We know Nate and Oliver won’t let you down. And I’m sure Reynolds, Carter, and Drake would love to have a model on their arms.”

“The rookies...”

“Yeah. Definitely. Look, don’t worry about it. I can talk everyone into giving some time up for charity. Call her and tell her we’re on.”

Chapter 3

Nadia

With a deep breath, I take the first of the three wedding dresses, running the soft silk between my fingers as the hairstylist finishes my hair. She meticulously styled it into soft waves to match the romantic but beachy vibe of this gown.

Minutes later, I slip into the dress. The smooth silk chiffon embraces my body, highlighting every contour with its lace detailing.

Doubt creeps in as my nerves become increasingly frayed, questioning the wisdom of dressing a bride and having the only man I ever loved, Oscar, as my groom.

I’m grateful he delivered on his promise and ten hockey players are currently getting ready in the dressing room on the opposite side of the runway. I told the designer the deal was on with the hockey players, but I have to walk with Oscar.

That was Oscar’s ultimatum when he called and confirmed.

As I stand in front of the mirror, I give myself a quick once-over. The familiar flares of self-consciousness overshadow my belief in myself.

As a model, I’m expected to exude perfection and ooze confidence, but for me, it’s a constant battle. I’m normally good at hiding it, but still wish I was like my peers. Most models don’t have anxiety, at least not at the same level as me.

“Are you ready?” The organizer stands at the doorway with a clipboard in his hand.

There’s a rumble of ‘yeahs’ behind me. I press my feet into the silk high-heeled pumps. Only now noticing the delicate pearls on the heels.

“Nadia followed by Stella, then Sophie…” the organizer says as I grab the bottom of the gown and stride to him as he opens the door backstage.

As I rush to the end of the runway, my mouth drops in awe when I catch sight of Oscar, looking dapper in a sleek black tuxedo. We’re the perfect picture of contrast and harmony. His black tuxedo-clad form is the perfect complement to my ivory ethereal gown.

“You look…” For the first time, he looks and sounds nervous. “Fuck!” He scrubs his hand over his jaw. “I never expected that the first time I saw you in years was for you to be wearing a wedding dress.”

What is he saying?

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