Page 51 of Red Zone
My body moves before my brain catches up.
“I’ll do it.”
They both look over. Jaxon smirks like he already knows my angle.
Lyla blinks. “You?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping in. “I’ve got time.”
It’s not entirely a lie.
Jaxon claps me on the shoulder. “Perfect. You’ll be in good hands. Lyla’s a psycho about spreadsheets.”
“I’m organized,” she corrects, arching a brow at me like she’s already second-guessing the offer.
But she doesn’t say no.
And maybe I should’ve played it cool. Maybe I should’ve let someone else be her test dummy.
But the truth is, I want the excuse.
To talk to her more.
To see her more.
She crosses her arms, one brow still lifted. “Just so we’re clear—this project is a huge part of my grade. I need someone who’s going to actually show up and take it seriously. If you’re just trying to be cute or whatever?—”
“I can be cute and committed,” I say, flashing a grin. “I’ll give it my best. Promise.”
She doesn’t smile, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind her eyes. “Good. Then I’ll need access to your social media. Especially Instagram. If I’m supposed to manage your image, I need to see what kind of train wreck I’m dealing with.”
“Train wreck? Damn. Brutal.”
She holds out her hand. “Login.”
I fish my phone from my pocket, open the app, and hand it to her without a second thought. “Go wild.”
She scrolls for a second, then her eyes narrow. “You have like…a hundred unread messages. From girls. Going back months.”
I lean against the wall casually. “And?”
“You don’t answer any of them?”
I push off the wall, take a slow step forward, and rap my knuckles against it twice. A subtle, sharp sound that makes her blink up at me.
“Got my eyes on someone else,” I say simply.
Then I walk off, hands in my pockets, not bothering to look back.
Because I don’t need to see her face to know she’s watching me go.
15
LYLA
The conference room smells like coffee and turf.
Not the good kind of turf, either—the sweat-drenched, cleat-stomped kind that lingers in your nose long after two-a-days. I take the seat farthest from my dad and try to ignore the stack of notes in front of me, trembling just slightly in my hands.
