Page 47 of Behind the Net

I chuckle. In my jacket pocket, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and read the text from my friend Alissa, who I worked with on the tour.

Girl. We’re gonna be in Vancouver next week. Last stop on the tour before the break!

My stomach sinks. The faces of everyone from the tour roll through my head, and shame rises in me. With a close-knit group of people who work insane hours, side by side, secrets don’t exist. No one from the tour texted me after I mysteriously didn’t show up at the next stop, and I have no doubt everyone knows exactly what happened.

I frown at my phone. I hate being reminded of my old life.

My phone buzzes again.

There’s a wrap party on Tuesday night, and your name is on the list! Jenna said she hasn’t gotten your RSVP yet.

I stare at her message in disbelief. No fuckingwayam I going to a wrap party with everyone. How fucking shameful would that be? I can’t. I won’t.

I read her text again, frowning. I never got an invite. I open my email and scroll through the unread messages.

There it is. Oh god. The email went out to everyone on the tour, and Jenna always forgets to blind carbon copy people, so everyone can see my email on the list. Everyone knows I’ve been invited.

Jamie brushes my arm. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I blink, tucking my phone away.

He stares at me in that way that makes my stomach flutter. “Tell me.”

“Bossy.”

“Mhm.” The corner of his mouth slants, and I can feel my own smile starting.

On the small stage at the back of the bar, the guy starts playing guitar and singing. The players mostly ignore him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I take a long sip of my drink and hum with appreciation because Jordan makes good whiskey sours. I lick the foam off my top lip, and Jamie’s gaze drops to my mouth. His eyebrows slide together in a focused frown.

“Are you going to tell me why you look like you saw a ghost?” he asks in a low voice. Around us, the players are talking, laughing, and horsing around, but Jamie doesn’t even notice.

I chew my lip, taking in his handsome face. His cheekbones are still flushed from his game, and he watches me with patience and curiosity. Something in his deep green eyes makes me want to tell him things.

“There’s a wrap party for the tour next week.”

His gaze pins me, his jaw tightening. “The tour you got fired from?”

I laugh without humor. “I mean, when you put it that way, I sound stellar.”

“Pippa.”

“I know, I know.” I sigh, take another sip of my drink, and there are his eyes on my mouth again. Heat pools low in my stomach. His hand brushes my arm again, scattering goosebumps along my skin.

I wish I didn’t have this reaction around him. It’s getting harder to hide.

“Everyone saw that I was invited,” I tell him, blowing out a long breath. “If I don’t go, it’s like…”

“Defeat.”

My gaze rises to his. “Exactly. Like I’m hiding from them.” My throat feels tight, and I shake my head. “A part of me wants to hide and forget them all. But there’s this other part of me that feels like—” I swallow. My pulse is beating harder. “Like,fuck him, you know? Fuck him for firing me and picking someone new.” My stomach churns, and I roll my eyes at myself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t.” His tone is sharp. “Don’t apologize.” He takes a drink of his beer. “You should go.”

I snort, giving him a flat look. “I’m sure that’ll go great. If I show up looking super hot, they’ll think I’m trying to get him back, but if I show up looking like garbage, it’ll seem like I’m falling apart without him. Besides, he’ll probably be making out with his new muse all night.”

I down the rest of my drink. I don’t want to think about this anymore.

On the stage, the guy finishes his third song before setting his guitar down. “I’m going to take a quick break, folks.”

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