Page 37 of Illegal Formation
If I was a different kind of girl, I might have blushed. As it was, I just beamed, my smile knowing and sure as I dragged my gaze over my reflection.
My uniform hugged my lean physique like it had been painted on — bright white with thousands of tiny rhinestones. The Seahawks logo shimmered across my chest, the high neckline sleek and dramatic with a narrow cutout just below it that showed a sliver of skin. Even the sheer sleeves glittered, stones trailing all the way down my arms like frost.
The bundles the glam squad had sewn in for today’s shoot had been swept up into a messy high knot that somehow lookedboth effortless and editorial, with soft curtain bangs falling around my face and loose tendrils brushing my cheeks. The stylists had teased the crown just enough to give it height, the rest pinned in place so not a single curl would dare move out of line.
And as if the hair wasn’t stunning enough on its own, my makeup was the showstopper.
My lashes were so long they flirted with my brows every time I blinked, my eyes dusted with warm bronze and shimmer that made them pop beneath the studio lights. My cheekbones were sculpted to heaven, highlighter catching just under my eyes and along the bridge of my nose. And my lips were glossy and full, a soft caramel shine that made them look deliciously kissable, if I did say so myself.
I looked expensive.
Like someone who belonged on a poster the size of a city bus.
Or a calendar, my inner ego whispered.
But hey, I wasn’t getting ahead of myself on that one. Rookies rarelyevermade the dancer calendar… but I could still hold out hope.
“Is it how fuckable I look in this skirt or the glossy lips that do it most for you?” I asked. The stylists both widened their eyes and exchanged glances that had me and Marcus smiling at one another.
“Probably the way they somehow softened your resting bitch face with that highlighter.”
“A miracle, truly.” I laughed, turning in my chair to look him over properly. “I’m equally obsessed with you, by the way.”
“As if I didn’t already know.” Marcus pretended to flick his invisible long hair over his shoulder before he did a full spin.
And if anyone else in this room understood the assignment today, it was Marcus.
The glam team had gotten their hands on him, too. His dark curls were shaped perfectly, tight and springy across the top with the sides cleaned up. Someone had brushed a little powder across his skin to cut the shine under the lights, and the result made his warm, golden-brown complexion glow even more. And that mustache… it was a showstopper all on its own.
His uniform was the men’s version of ours — still Seahawks white, still sharp and camera-ready, but cut to look strongandsparkly. A fitted white zip jacket stretched across his broad chest and thick shoulders, the team logo bold against the fabric. The sleeves hugged his arms, and I knew from experience that underneath all that sleek tailoring were the kind of muscles that made tumbling passes look easy.
Marcus was built like a brick wall that had decided, for reasons known only to God, to learn how to do backflips.
And somehow he still looked glamorous.
The stylists had even convinced him to wear a tiny pair of diamond studs that caught the light every time he moved, which meant he now looked less like a dancer and more like the lead in a Latin pop music video.
“That outfit was made for you.”
“Literally,” he shot back before striking a pose, one hand on his hip and the other draping over his forehead as if he were in distress. “Alas,” he said, sighing dramatically. “Itishard to be this attractive.”
I rolled my eyes. “Relax, superstar. They’re not photographing you forPeople’s Sexiest Man Alive.”
“Not yet.”
We shared another smile before Claire called his name. It was his turn to shoot, and he blew me a kiss over his shoulder as he sashayed away.
I thanked my glam team profusely when they finished with me, and then my phone was in my hands and pointed at myreflection in the mirror. I took a few selfies and a video before Darcy came over and we took some photos together. She was also stunning, from her glossy platinum blonde hair to her shiny blue eyes lined in kohl. Where my hair was swept up, hers waterfalled down her back in bouncy curls. We were like two schoolgirls playing hooky, the way we giggled and posed in the mirror.
We were still tittering as I swiped through the shots, Darcy hooked onto my arm with her eyes on my screen. We were trying to decide which one I should post to my story when a text popped up at the top of my screen.
Boss:I’m at the stadium doing hype videos for the season. Heard you’re here, too?
My jaw nearly unhinged. Of course, that was the last sensation I was cataloging in my body because the overwhelming ones were how my stomach flipped and the wings of a million butterflies tickled my ribcage.
I couldn’t fight the smile that curled on my lips, and Darcy clocked it instantly.
“And who the hell isBoss,” she asked, crossing her arms with her tongue in her cheek and a little pop of her hip. “Because the only boss you have that I’m aware of is Claire, and that sure as hell wasn’t her.”
