“Takira may be slightly biased,” Catalina chuckles, “since they’re roommates.”
“Former roommates,” I correct.
“I did hear she and Canon are dating now,” Lotus says, her eyes flicking from the collar of the dress she’s pinning back to my face, speculation in her gaze. “What a gorgeous couple.”
“Speaking of gorgeous couples,” Catalina says. “Wanna show Takira all the handsome boys she gets to power today?”
“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Lotus nods at the model and sends her to a nearby makeup station. “Yours are all grumps whose arms I had to twist twice around to get them to do this show. Follow me.”
Lotus walks ahead, her confident stride leading us through the maze of stations and bags.
“Some of these guys are former teammates of Kenan’s,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Some, just players from around the League. All of them have hearts of gold and really want to help raise money for Harbor House.”
We walk quickly through the space, but I absorb as many details as I can. One particularly glamorous updo of bright pink hair turns my head, so I don’t notice the overstuffed bag in my path. My feet slip from under me and there’s no time to catch myself. Grappling with my own heavy bag, I yelp, halfway bracing for the inevitable fall…but it doesn’t come. Instead I tumble into something hard, a wall of muscle and heat. Big arms enfold me, and I find myself pressed to a mountain of good-smelling man.
“I’m so sorry,” I sputter, dragging my eyes from the wide expanse of white T-shirt stretched across a broad chest. “I…”
The rest of my apology slithers back down my throat, swallowed by a gasp of shock. I haven’t seen the face above me in a long time—at least, not in person. The dark skin and carved bone structure is leaner and more pronounced now than it was before. Same square chin and bold nose and heavy brows. The guarded eyes are paradoxically framed by a feathering of long, curling lashes. He’s still as arresting as he was the day I met him when I was eighteen years old, but I never thought I’d come face-to-face with him again.
“Takira,” he says, the same surprise coloring his voice that I’m sure is scrawled all over my face.
I take a deep steadying breath that doesn’t seem to be steadying anything before answering, “Naz.”