I didn’t bother to tame the smile that curved on my lips as I let my eyes run the length of her. She’d left her hair down, the tight curls still a little damp from her shower that morning, and whatever makeup she’d done was light enough that all the freckles speckling her cheeks shone through the foundation. Her glasses were red-framed, matching the plaid skirt she wore and the knee-high stockings she’d paired with it. She was completely oblivious to how sexy her legs were, to how seeing that little skirt contrasted with the modest button up fastened all the way to her neck would make any straight man long to undo her, make any woman long to be as effortlessly alluring.

“Trust me,” I said, taking my time as my gaze crawled back up to meet hers. “Maliyah will lose her fucking mind when she sees us.”

Giana shook her head, clasping her hands together as she turned to face me. “Can we just run through it one more time?”

“I told you we needed more practice.”

She waved me off with a face that said yeah, yeah before waiting for my cue.

“We’ll walk in together, holding hands, and get a little close. Start up the whispers,” I reminded her. “After practice, you’ll meet me in the cafeteria.”

“And I’ll make a big scene, running to you and congratulating you on making the team.” She paused. “And you’re sure you’ll make it?”

I gave her a flat look.

“Fine,” she waved me off. “And then… we… kiss.”

Her cheeks tinged pink.

I smirked. “Then, we kiss.” I paused, arching a brow. “You sure you don’t want to practice that part?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

“I’m just saying. Might ease the nerves.”

Giana ignored me, blowing out a breath and rolling her lips together before she finally stopped wringing her hands and straightened her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do this before I pass out, or throw up, or change my mind, or all of the above.”

Her hand shot out for mine, and I smiled, intertwining my fingers with hers. As soon as I did, her breath hitched, like even just holding hands was new to her.

I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Fake it til you make it, Kitten.”

She flushed, looking down at the sidewalk as I tugged her toward the stadium doors. Something similar to nerves bubbled in my chest, too, as I scanned my ID badge, and then we both slipped into performance mode.