Page 80 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“Um...hi?”
“I can’t believe we’re seeing you!” one says as she digs her phone out of her clear bag. “Can we take a selfie?”
I hear Quinn snickering behind me as I try to wrap my brain around what’s going on. “Um…sure?”
Each of them stand on either side of me as I smile toward the phone. I do my best to have a genuine smile, but it’s hard because I don’t know how this is real life.
“I can’t believe we saw you!” the one who took the selfie says. “We mettheAinsley.”
“I’m just Ainsley,” I say, trying to temper down this fangirling. For one, it’s a little embarrassing. Two, my sister is never going to let me live this down. “But it’s really nice to meet you two. Big Fury fans?”
“Of course,” they say in unison before the selfie taker continues. “And we used to have the biggest crushes on Linc. Butnot anymore, because he’s with you, and you two are basically perfect together.”
“For real you two are couple goals,” the other says. “I swear to God, I died dead when I saw the photos of him walking you to your car this week.”
Not going to lie, I melted a little too when I saw those. Neither of us had any idea that anyone was around. I mean, it was eight in the morning on a Wednesday. Must’ve been a slow news day. And I wish I could thank whoever took them, because the moment he kissed me goodbye before I drove off… Yeah, I’m glad I get to relive that moment forever.
“Thanks. I’m a pretty lucky girl.”
We chit-chat for a few more minutes, and then they ask for another picture before they head off with the rest of the crowd to head inside the stadium.
But me? I stand outside the suite entrances a bit stunned, because how is this my life?
“Oh, just wait until the group chat hears about this.”
I groan as we walk toward entrance. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, dear sister, if you don’t think I’m going to report on every minute of this, you don’t know me at all.”
“You know, I didn’t have to bring you here today,” I say, really hating that Mia had to work. “I could’ve asked Simon. Or I’m sure Stella would’ve loved to come.”
“But you asked me, so now you must suffer the consequences.” We each show the security guard our suite badges before we go through a metal detector and head to the elevator. “Now come on. You need to become a WAG, and I’ve got nachos to eat.”
When Linc asked me if I wanted to come today, I obviously wanted to support him. It was even better when he said I could bring a friend. I assumed we’d be sitting in regular seats in thestadium, which is when I asked Quinn to come along. Then I found out that we’d be in a suite with other wives and girlfriends.
I really should’ve brought Maeve.
I love my sister, but she’s the most unhinged person in my life that I’d want with me at a football game. Especially a game where I’m trying to make a good impression on the other wives and girlfriends. I know Linc and I aren’t really for real, but I still want them to like me. Especially if I’m going to be here for multiple games this season. So maybe it wasn’t my best idea to bring Quinn, who would have no qualms about starting fights with referees, or other fans, if something happened she didn’t agree with.
Just the headline Linc and I need:
Linc Kincaid’s girlfriend banned from games after sister fights with fan
“I need you to promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.”
She puts her hand over her heart as the elevator takes us to the suite floor. “I solemnly swear. Though I’m a little insulted that you felt the need to say that.”
“Really? Are you not the person who organized egging a referee’s house back in high school because he made a bad call?”
“It was a clear fumble and it cost us the game,” she defends. “And it wasn’t eggs. It was toilet paper.”
“Apologies,” I say, shaking my head at my sister. I love her, but sometimes I wonder how we share DNA.
When the elevator stops at our floor and we step out, we’re quickly guided down a long hallway. Fans are gathered in and out of the suites, all wearing some sort of Fury merchandise. I feel a few eyes on me, but not like earlier. Though I’m guessingthat's because I just passed country star Dustin Wild. Compared to him, I’m small potatoes.
“Right in here,” the attendant tells us. “Enjoy the game. Oh, and nice jersey.”
The older woman gives me a wink as I walk into the suite. I didn’t know if I should wear this today—it felt a little cliché to wear your fake boyfriend’s jersey to your first game. But after the note he left with it when he had it delivered to my apartment yesterday, how could I not?
