Page 38 of Your Secret to Keep

I look at the ceiling, at the lights littering across while I think of a secret to trade.

“I’ve always wanted to take a dance class. There was this studio near my house when I was younger. Might’ve been twelve when I went in and grabbed a brochure. As soon as I saw the cost, I shoved it in my backpack and never mentioned it to my mom.”

“You wanted to dance? Stop, I love that so much.” Lia turns to me, clasping her hands at her chest and squinting her eyes shut. “You know there’s still time, right?”

“Maybe someday,” I laugh, shaking my shoulders and getting comfortable as I press play.

“I’d dance with you,” she croons, her eyes framed with thick lashes.

Fuck. Why does she have me considering this?

We settle in, the sound of sports commentary and shoes squeaking on the court filling the space around us. When Lia’s fingers find mine, I’m not sure I’ve ever had a better date. This right here? It’s everything.

I wake up and it takes me a minute to realize where I am: Lia’s; well, specifically her bed. We finished a game, let the next one start, and Lia put her head on my chest. The heaviness of her resting on me made ittoo easy to fall asleep. The TV has turned off, probably because nothing had played for a while, and I look at my watch to find it’s after midnight.

My eyes adjust and I realize Lia is now fully draped across my chest. With a hand looped around my upper arm and her head on my chest, I can’t help but soften my shoulders and relax a little bit. I feel her breathe against me, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this—a genuine and honest connection. Everything about this—from Lia wanting to take things slow to having a night together like this—makes it feel like I might’ve found something worthwhile.

Chapter 23

Lia

“Thetwoofyouare going viral!” Megan shouts, practically speed walking onto the court to where Brooks and I are filming content, her heels making sharp clicks.

“What do you mean?” I ask as she happily shoves her phone in front of me, showing me a video that has fifty thousand likes. It’s the one where I completed the obstacle course rehab routine that Brooks kept getting stuck on.

“I posted that yesterday,” she exclaims. I take her phone and look at the other stats, my jaw dropping at the impressions and views on a single app. We cross-post content from one app to another on a strategic drip schedule. I put it on the first two apps yesterday and we’ll post on two others in three days to push the engagement further. Not sure if that makes a difference, but part of my job is to find what works.

Brooks looks over my shoulder, the closeness almost making my ears buzz. “Holy shit.”

Pointing between the two of us, Megan says, “I hope you two are having fun because I’m going to need more of this. The two of you guys interacting, just like this.” She taps her phone. “Everything I’ve seen is so natural. You never come off rigid. It’s perfect!” Megan claps her hands in excitement.

I try to hide the blush that’s about to hit my cheeks. Of course we don’t come off rigid—this man has had my nipples in his mouth andgiven me an orgasm in his pool. When I don’t know what to say, Brooks thankfully jumps in.

“I’m having fun, when she’s not kicking my ass in rehab and putting it on the Internet,” Brooks replies with a wink. He knew I was going to post it, but I’m not sure he saw the final product beforehand.

Megan claps her hands together. “That’s what I’m talking about. You two get along so well and it’s so authentic.”

My chest warms at the observation. It makes sense, considering how easy everything feels with Brooks. I wonder how far the previous hire got with this project. Couldn’t have been too far, considering the social media accounts I help manage don’t have anything like this in the drafts, and Brooks wasn’t playing until my first night.

“Plus, if you’re okay with it, we want to add more Lia to the mix. The team is creating a Lia-specific Jags account, and I want to build that out at the same time.”

My eyes snap up. “Me? No one cares about who I am,” I protest.

Megan raises her eyebrows and scoffs. “Wrong. Lots of people care. The comment section is flooded with fans trying to figure out who you are.”

I open the comments, scrolling through thousands of them, and find she’s not wrong. There are a ton of tags asking the Jags to introduce me on the page.

“Wow,” I exhale. “Okay, so what does that mean?”

“I’m putting a meeting on our calendar with our PR team. We’ll go over the basis of what we want you to focus on when posting. I can also give you more resources—maybe an intern to help with posting and filming content? A content editor? What do you need?” Megan asks.

More is better. I love the idea of sinking my hooks in further with the Jags to show them what I’m capable of. “To be honest, I’d like to manage both if it’s possible,” I request.

“If you can swing it and that’s what you want, I’m happy to try that out. We’ll also chat with HR regarding additional compensation. This is more work than we brought you on for.”

Additional compensation? Have I slipped into an alternate universe—one where success is rewarded, and gorgeous NBA players rescue women from those with the energy of the smallest dick to ever exist?

“Damn. Way to go, Lia.” Brooks offers me a high five, bringing me back to the now. “Let me know if you need anything else from me,” he requests before turning and heading back to the court. We were filming content before his shootaround started—some random “would you rather” questions that fans had sent in.

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