Page 71 of The Roommate Remodel

The way he looks at me makes me wonder what he suspects.

“Even if she did tell me everything, I wouldn’t tell you.” I nudge Brax out of the way and slam the door in Leo’s face.

Then I turn to Brax like nothing happened and brush my hands off. “Now, where were we?”

Brax stares at me in shock. “Look at you, telling off Leo for once.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

My stomach twists uncomfortably. If he knew I was hiding Alex’s secret, he wouldn’t be proud. He’d be mad. Furious, even.

But I can’t tell him before I try to save the team. If I did, Alex would fire me.

Everything I’m doing is for Sloan and for him. And I need time to make it work, even if time is the one thing I don’t have.

SIXTEEN

Brax

I’ve always been excited about being on the ice.Until now.The thought of modeling clothes while people gawk at me—or worse, laugh at me—sounds as inviting as getting my head slammed into the ice.

Personally, slamming my head sounds better.

After today’s meeting, I can tell most of the guys feel the same about the fashion show, even if they are modeling Jaz’s custom designed jerseys. They’re shooting me disgusted looks. Whispering behind my back.

The only people who seem remotely excited are Leo, Dawson, and Vale. Leo likes the attention, while Dawson and Vale are doing this for me. Vale knows my loyalty to Jaz. This is his way of being a team player and staking his flag for Team Jaz.

As I sit on a bench along the rink, Jaz rushes in, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her white joggers and pink sweatshirt a stark contrast to our black practice jerseys. She waves us to the middle of the rink, while everyone around me grumbles.

Her eyes dart around, taking in the reluctant group. “Coach said I have twenty minutes to teach our opening number for the fashion show.”

“We’re dancing?” Rourke asks from the back. Rourke isgrumpy about everything, especially things he never agreed to in his contract. “I thought we were just showing off clothes.”

“It’s not really a dance. More like synchronized skating,” she says. “Part of the entertainment is letting the fans see another side of you. The fun side.”

“I can show them another side,” Vale jokes and then turns around and shakes his hips Leo’s way.

Leo smacks his backside, and Vale turns around and socks Leo in the arm. Before I can stop them, the guys almost end up in a wrestling match on the ice. Dawson howls with laughter, while Rourke pumps his fist, yelling, “Punch him!”

“Stop. NOW!” I bellow as Lucian and Tate step in and pull Vale and Leo apart. “You guys are acting like a bunch of peewee players.” I press my finger into each of their chests. “There will be absolutely. No. Fighting.”

“Well, I’m not dancing likethat,” Tate says, crossing his arms. “My hips don’t even shake that direction.”

“Nothing in this routine involves shaking that,”Jaz says. “Think of it more like the opening of a show where they see you and your Crushers merchandise for the first time. Something to warm up the audience. They’re going to be bidding on the new line of Crushers clothes to raise charity funds as well as buying advertising space for the rest of the season. We need them to like you!”

The thought of this team in designer duds, gliding—and likely tripping—over the slick ice makes me wonder if we’ll become the city’s laughingstock instead of filling them with pride. If I wasn’t so crazy about Jaz, I’d probably refuse to do it too.

But right now, whatever Jaz wants, Jaz gets. If she asked me to wear a tutu and dance like a fairy ballerina I’d do it, even if I hated myself every second.

You know you’re a man in love when you’re willing to sacrifice your pride for someone even if it involves total humiliation.

“What if wecan’tstay together for the routine?” Tate asks, looking around the group. Tate was noticeably quiet during thismorning’s meeting, and now I know why. He doesn’t want to do this any more than I do.

Jaz walks toward him. “You don’t have to be good. You just have to learn to move to the music. Kind of like hockey.”

Tate raises his hand. “Correction! This is nothing like hockey.”

“You’re right,” Jaz says, thinking over her words carefully. “But it’s also not dancing. It’s synchronized skating. With lights and music. All of you can skate. Just add a few jazz hands and a final pose!”

The guys groan.

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