Page 1 of Play the Last Track
Prologue
Katie
“WhoamIsupposedto talk to? Eight hours stuck next to a stranger.”
“You will be fine.” Ivy laughs as she leans back into Scott’s chest. The sight only makes my scowl deepen.
Ugh.
My best friend and her fiancé are absolutely sickening.
Well, not really. The two of them are perfect together. Made for each other. Fate brought them to one another, and I promise you, I’m not even a little bit jealous.
Okay. Maybe, like, ninety-five percent happy for them and five percent jealous.
Ten percent jealous, ninety percent happy.
Fifteen percent, but that’s really it.
I used to be happy. I used to have someone to lean on when I was tired. Someone I would sit next to on flights. Someone I looked at with that kind of love.
I think.
That’s been my problem the last few months. I think I was in love, but I’m not certain.
Grant says he was certain. He says he was in love with me. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He tells me all of this over and over again.
But he doesn’t show it. I don’t think he ever has.
The longer I went just hearing those words and not feeling them, not seeing them, the more I think I fell out of love with him. Or, maybe, I just woke up to what I settled for.
Ugh.
“Can’t we all just sit in coach? That way, you can sit next to me and Scott. Everyone wins.” I beg my best friend, but it’s completely futile. The tickets are paid for, and we’ve checked in.
Still.
“My knees and my back will pay for it,” Scott mumbles. His face is pressed into Ivy’s neck as he tightens his arms around her waist. My heart clenches. See? That’s loud love.
I groan and mumble, “Old man.”
“It’s eight hours, and then we will be in Rome. Watch a movie and have a nap,” Ivy says.
“Scott, swap seats with me. I need entertainment, and Ivy will gossip with me. I have to tell her about the mess Doug and his cronies made in the bar the other week.” I clasp my hands in front of my chest, hitting him with my best ever puppy dog eyes. “Please.”
“Not a chance, Murphy,” Scott replies instantly. He doesn’t even look up. Dammit.
“Don’t worry, Rockstar. I’ll keep you entertained.”
A shiver rolls through me, and I have to work not to let it show on my face. I look up. Standing over me, broad shoulders stretching a crisp white T-shirt to breaking point, and a smile that would make even the devil fall to his knees, is Flynn Reed.
Tight end to the Boston Broncos and Scott’s best friend.
And my secret, totally off limits, but definitely in my dreams, football crush.
Fuck, yes.
Chapter One
