Page 7 of Hot Route
Mads: How are you from this planet?
Mads:
Just like Iknew it would, my phone rings one second after I texted Dia Blaze’s underwear ad. “Hello, Diamond,” I greet her.
“Man meat!” she yells so loudly, I have to hold my phone away from my ear to avoid permanent damage.
“Umm, what?” Sometimes I forget that my best friend has absolutely no filter and some of the things that come out of her mouth make sense to her, but zero to anyone else. Myself included. I've known her my whole life and she still confuses the fuck out of me sometimes.
“That fine specimen is your new boss?” she says. I can tell by her voice that she’s jumping up and down. I’ve seen her do it a million times. She gets so excited that she has to move her body to stop from spontaneously combusting.
“Yeah,” I reply. “He’s the star receiver for the Boston Blizzard.”
I hear a loudwhooshand know she’s abandoned her jumping in lieu of throwing herself on the oversized beanbag chair in her living room. “You should totally fuck him.”
I scoff as though that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I definitely won’t be telling her how I defiled that very underwear ad in my hotel room last week. “Dia, he’s my boss. I can’t fuck him. Also, look at him. Guys like that…they don’t date girls like me.”
She sighs, annoyed. “Okay, first of all, do not put yourself down. You’re hot as fuck and you’re dirty in the sack. A guy like that should be so lucky. Plus, I didn’t saydate him. I said you shouldfuck him.”
“Why don’t you come here and fuck him yourself?” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach as I speak the words. Blaze is so hot and I’d prefer all of the fantasies I have of him naked to includeonly me. Even though I'm probably playing with fire thinking about him like that at all. But nobody has to know, right?
“Eh,” she replies. “He’s too pretty for me. He looks like the kind of guy that would make sure you're comfortable before he fucks you gently. Like he'd grab an extra pillow for under yourhips even if you didn’t ask for it. You know I only like guys who treat me like garbage, fuck me, then never call again,” she jokes.
I hope she’s wrong. Because the Blaze from my fantasies wraps my hair around his fist while using my body to get what he needs. He says dirty things in my ear until I fall apart under him.There’s that ache again.
“Anyway, can we please stop talking about how my boss fucks. I won’t be able to look him in the eye Monday when I start.” Yeah, right. Now that’s all I’ll be thinking of. “How are you?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I’m good. That new dance studio in the city opened on Friday. I tried out one of their advanced ballet classes and the owner pulled me aside asking if I’d ever considered teaching.”
Dia is an amazing dancer. We both started ballet classes when we were still in preschool. Where I was completely uncoordinated and just didn't enjoy it, she flourished. Dance became her outlet. As we got older, she immersed herself into being the best ballerina she could be, hoping it would open doors for her in the future. And it did. Right before we graduated, she was offered a full scholarship to the New York School of Dance. But her parents got into some legal trouble and she had to decline the offer in order to go straight to work to earn money to help them out. It ended up being a futile effort because their problems were much larger than any of us knew. Thankfully, she hasn't talked to either of her parents in years. But the opportunities for her to further her career as a professional dancer were all but gone by the time she was out from under their hold.
“That’s amazing, D!” I reply. “What did you tell her?”
She sighs. “I told her I would consider it. On one hand, I think it would be cool to teach people, but I also wonder if they would think I was a fraud. I abandoned a career in dance, so do I really have a right helping people on the way to their own?”
“You’re not a fraud,” I reassure her. “And that studio would be so much better with you on their staff.”
As confident as she is, and as much as she uses humor to mask her real emotions, I know Dia feels like a disappointment with the way that her life has turned out. What she doesn't see is where she had to claw her way out of in order to be where she is today. Most people would have quit and given up on everything. She should be a statistic, but instead she is thriving. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
She blows out a breath. “Maybe I’ll go back and see what they have to offer.”
“Atta girl,” I reply.
“So, you start both jobs Monday? How will that work?”
To be honest, the situation couldn't be more perfect. Blaze said he doesn't need help with the things he's got going on until later in the day most times. He also mentioned that he would probably need some help on the weekends, but those are my days off from my internship. Thankfully, there will be no overlapping.
“Well,” I begin, “I’ll be at Tailgate from nine to one every weekday. Then, I’ll go home, change, and grab some food before heading to Blaze’s at three. I’m actually looking forward to seeing the daily life of a professional football player. This might be helpful when it comes to my internship. Not many people get to see what I’m about to.”
“I hope you mean his dick,” she says, causing me to roll my eyes. One thing about Dia; she never lets a heavy conversation stay heavy. And I love her for that.
“Sorry to tell you, but that particular piece ofman meatis off limits.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she chides, “I read a book like this once. If he asks you to be his fake wife, just promise me you’ll say yes.”
I bark out a laugh. “In the unlikely event that Blaze Beckham fake proposes to me, I promise I will accept.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Okay, I have to go get ready for my shift at the club. I love you.”
