Page 26 of Run Home

“Yes, that’s the one. They told me I could bring a plus-one, but I’ve been so focused on the start of the season that I haven’t thought about it until my agent reminded me to order a tux,” I say. As casually as I can manage, I ask, “Would you go with me to the gala?”

There’s a beat of silence, and my heart pummels my rib cage. I’m about to mute my phone to make sure Sam can’t hear the thud when she asks, “Are you sure you want me to go with you? There are probably tons of women you’ve met who would kill to be your plus-one at an event like this.”

I only want you as my plus-one. You’re the only one.

“Yeah, I want you to go with me, or I wouldn’t have asked,” I say, lightening my tone. “Don’t make me start calling you mensa, now.”

“Ha ha,” Sam scoffs, and I can imagine her smiling eye roll.

“So will you come? Or am I eating the fancy food all alone?” I prod.

“You won’t ask someone else if I can’t go?” Sam asks.

“Nope. The weight of the world is all on you,” I joke. “It should be a fun night, though. Drew and Lily went last year and had a blast. What do you say?”

Sam’s tone is light when she says, “Sure, I’ll go. Although I’m not sure I have any formal dresses of black-tie caliber. I’ll have to check some thrift stores.”

“I’ll put a card on file at that formal-wear rental place in Leawood so you can go get something,” I offer.

“Adrian, you don’t need to pay for my dress,” Sam protests.

I protest more firmly. “It’s my event. You shouldn’t have to buy something to wear when I’m the one asking you to go with me. No arguing.”

She sighs but gives in. “Text me all the details so I have it in writing. And if the food sucks, you’re taking me back to that sushi place after. I’ve been dreaming of the conch sushi roll.”

Laughter rumbles in my chest. “I doubt the food is gonna suck, but I’ll still take you out for sushi after, cielo.”

“You realize every time you call me that without explaining, you chip away at my resolve to not google it.”

“Don’t even think about it. I’ll be the one to decide when you get the explanation. Otherwise, you can’t keep calling me menso,” I say.

There’s a smile in Sam’s voice when she replies, “I’ve grown too attached to that nickname, menso. Just don’t drag this out too long, or you’ll have only yourself to blame for me looking it up. Now go to bed. I’m sure you have an early flight in the morning if you’re getting back in time for the home game tomorrow night.”

“You haven’t lost your insider knowledge of Crowns itineraries, huh?” I observe.

“I could plan out your schedule in my sleep. Not that I’m going to—I’m once again reiterating that I’ve retired from personal assistantship.”

When we hang up, I know there’s no way I’ll be falling asleep anytime soon.

Because I have a not-a-date date with Sam. A chance to show her what it could be like to date for real. Cueing up some Elena Rose music on my phone, I spend the next few minutes Venezuelan salsa dancing around the room.

After all, I’d better brush up on my rhythm in case there’s dancing at this gala. Even if there’s no official dance floor, I might have to find a way just so I have the chance to hold Sam in my arms.

It will torture me for the rest of my life if Sam never gives me a chance to win her over. But lifelong suffering might just be worth the temporary paradise.

Chapter eleven

Sam

Acloud of hair spray billows around me, and I hold my breath until it dissipates.

“I think you got it. Not a single strand of hair will dare to move,” I tease Lynsey, one of my fellow cosmetology students. Lynsey agreed to style my hair for the gala tonight, so we stayed an extra hour after our final practice clients of the day. After curling my hair, she looped and pinned the curls in a way that gives the illusion that I have more hair than I actually do. I was stunned when she swiveled the chair around so I could see the back in the handheld mirror.

“Wait, there’s one piece I want to repin,” Lynsey says before fiddling with the bobby pins behind my left ear. She presses a chef’s kiss to her fingertips. “Okay. Take a look at the final masterpiece.”

Standing up from the chair, I lean closer to the mirror. “You’re a magician, Lyns. You’d think my hair was much longer than chin length. I’m going to be so sad to take it down tonight.”

“Which is why I’m going to take seven hundred photos first, so don’t move,” Lynsey says as she unlocks her phone. “I hope you have fun tonight. Bummer it’s a Monday, and you’ll have to get up and be back here tomorrow morning.”