The moment their eyes met, they flew at each other like lovers at the climax of one of those rom-coms Rico suddenly found himself inside. DJ wrapped Ashna in a hug. Ashna, who had been icy enough to give Rico frostbite, melted into this giant. Apparently being a fancy chef left you with enough time to be a gym rat. Who knew? Not that Rico wasn’t fitter than everyone in the building. Who cared that he wasn’t as tall as this guy. The best thing about football was that you didn’t have to be tall or big, you just had to know what to do with the damn ball. That’s why it was the most played sport on earth.

The chef might be big, but Rico could totally take him.

Whoa, time out! No one was taking anyone. What the hell was wrong with him? If any of his friends had said something so ridiculous, Rico would have smacked them upside the head. Reaching back, he squeezed his rolled-up ponytail.

“You holding up okay?” DJ asked Ashna, pulling away and making some sort of nauseatingly understanding eye contact.

She nodded, soulful eyes shying away from DJ’s gaze, and gave him another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Ah! So this was why she was doing the show. To be close to her boyfriend.

Well, good. That made everything easier. Rico stepped away, giving them space as they chattered away, a little too intimately for public, if you asked him. But what did he know?

“You really lucked out with your star, love!” DJ said suddenly, and turned to Rico before Rico could make his escape.

Walking up to Rico, DJ held out his hand. “Huge fan, sir, huge fan! That run you had in the ninetieth in the final when you went top corner, bloody hell! The keeper had no chance! Wait till I tell my sister I met you, she’s going to clean pee her pants.”

Rico let him pump his hand. So the man knew his sport, so what?

“DJ Caine.”

“I know.” Rico shoved his hands into his pockets, his tone somewhere between stiff and downright sulky. “I was there for the introductions.”

Ashna glared at him and he felt like a piece of shit. He hated when someone was a prick to fans.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the awkward pause, because what was he doing? He could not let her take away his decency. He’d lost enough of himself to her. “I meant you’re our host, so I know who you are.” He reached out and squeezed the man’s bicep. Holy shit! He’d been going for his shoulder. DJ looked alarmed. Rico had never felt like a bigger ass. “Very impressive credentials. Excellent. Excited to work with you. Fabulous,” he gushed like an overcompensating moron.

DJ and Ashna exchanged confused looks and Rico excused himself before he embarrassed himself even more.