Page 5 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
She learned that from experience, and I did too, right along with her.
That’s why I’ve been so goal-oriented since I stepped foot on campus. The podcast is part of that.
And so, the next week I take Tia’s advice.
Buttoning up the short-sleeved red blouse with the cute black pearl buttons, I consider my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
The blouse is professional enough, but also it doesn’t make me look like I’m playing dress-up. I look like who I am—a college woman who takes herself seriously, but who isn’t pretending she’s at the helm of a news desk already.
I pair the blouse with jeans, then slide on flats.
There.
I look dressy, but casual too.
Trouble is my hair.
I can’t decide what to do with it.
I snap a selfie and send it to my BFF for life. Grant and I grew up on the same block, and since our grandmas were besties, naturally we were too. Grant is also the catcher for the San Francisco Cougars, the team we rooted for religiously in high school.
* * *
Reese: Should I wear my hair up or down?
* * *
Grant: Did you really just ask me for fashion advice?
* * *
Reese: I come to you for advice on literally everything and have since I was five. And you’ve given me hair advice before, so don’t act so surprised!
* * *
Grant: I’ll tell you what I always do—wear it down. Straight guys like it down.
* * *
Reese: This is for a podcast interview!
* * *
Grant: My bad. I thought you were going on a date. Who is the interview with?
* * *
Reese: You might know him. Holden Kingsley. Plays for the LA Bandits.
* * *
Grant: Damn, woman! Of course I know him. He better give you a good interview. If he doesn’t, he has me to answer to.
* * *
Reese: You’re so weirdly protective.
* * *
Grant: You’re so weirdly like a sister to me.
* * *
Reese: You’re my weird sorta brother.
* * *
Grant: True. And everyone in your life better be good to you.
* * *
Laughing, I close the text thread, figuring it’s best to keep the interview details to myself, just in case Holden turns out to be rude or unhelpful. I can only imagine how that’d irk my buddy.
Leaving my hair down, I exit my apartment to head to Helen Williams Hall, the marketing and communications department building, where Holden’s roundtable discussion is taking place.
Along the way, I think about Tia and Layla’s teasing last week.
I do not have a thing for Holden. How could I? I’ve never met him.
I’m picky with men. The world’s most overprotective father trained me to keep them out of my pants, but it was my mother’s advice that had more influence on that. She told me it’s best to wait for someone special to me.
So, I’ve waited, and I’m fine with that. I want to know someone, care for someone—hell, I want to love someone—before I let him into my body.
Nothing wrong with that, as far as I can tell.
When I arrive at the building, my nerves clamor at me, but I shut them down. This interview is a vital step on the ladder of my goals, but I can handle it. I’ve made a plan, outlined my questions. And thanks to years of playing sports and hosting interviews, I have plenty of poise and chutzpah.
But when I enter the auditorium, all that falls to the wayside. No planning or poise could prepare me for how charismatic Holden Kingsley is in person.
I spot the Bandits second baseman onstage, answering one of the moderator’s questions—forest-green eyes, thick dark hair, and a smile that lights up the room as he talks. He’s wearing a navy-blue button-down shirt, rolled up once at the cuffs. Casual, but still well-dressed.
When the session ends, he scans the auditorium, and his eyes meet mine where I’m sitting in the front row.
He lingers for a beat, maybe more, that gaze taking a leisurely stroll up and down my frame. There’s something in that look—the first tantalizing flickers of pleasure, the promise of moments to come, of kisses, of touches . . .
Or maybe I’m reading too much into one hot gaze.
He steps off the stage, strides up to me, and offers a big hand. “You must be Reese Fallon.”
There aren’t enough nets in the world to catch all the butterflies fluttering inside me right now.
I’m pretty sure that Holden Kingsley is precisely my type of guy.
2
Holden
I’m not immune to pretty women. I’ve never pretended or wanted to be.
The thing is, though, women—especially the brainy, confident, and beautiful ones—are a temptation, and temptation gets in the way of things like, say, winning.
If not winning, then doing my best every single day.
That’s what I need to do to achieve everything I’ve dreamed of. Not just for me, but for my family.
As I head down the steps and off the stage, I spot a woman I recognize instantly from her picture on the podcast web page. Once I lock eyes with her—a pair of eyes so light blue and pure they’re like crystal—I try to activate my defenses.
