Offside love

~ CHAPTER FIVE ~

The mall’s polished floors gleamed so hard Avery could see her reflection when she glanced down. Glass storefronts lined both sides of the atrium, every window dressed in mannequins wearing sharp suits or the kind of sneakers men threw paychecks at just to feel relevant.

Avery walked a step behind Samantha, mostly because Sam moved like she owned every square inch of the place. Bright orange silk blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans, diamond studs catching the light, hair in curls that bounced with every confident stride Sam was impossible to miss.

“You know what I don’t get?” Samantha started, her voice cutting through the hum of shoppers. She waved toward a display of suits that looked like they cost more than Avery’s monthly rent. “Why men don’t invest in good tailoring. A suit can hide the fact that a man’s built like a potato. Sharp cut, wide shoulders, tapered waist? Baby, you’d think he was sculpted by God Himself.”

Avery smirked, hands clasped behind her back. “Not all men have your… standards, Sam.”

“Standards?” Samantha snorted, stepping closer to the window, her reflection kissing the glass. “Please. Standards are survival. If his shoes are cheap, his s*x game is cheap. Trust me. I’ve done the research.”

Avery rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile tugging her lips. “Oh, you’ve done research, huh?”

“Extensive,” Samantha declared, turning dramatically. “Exhibit A: Marcus. Gorgeous face, drove a Benz, but the man wore those square-toe office shoes like it was still 2005. Should’ve been my first red flag. And what happened? Two pumps, and he cried. Cried, Avery. Tears in my bra strap.”

The burst of laughter that ripped out of Avery startled a kid passing by with his mother. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle it. “You’re making that up.”

“Hand to God.” Samantha raised a palm. “I didn’t know whether to comfort him or throw him out.”

They moved further down, past a sneaker boutique. Samantha’s attention snagged again, this time on a display of limited edition high tops. She whistled low. “Now this this is a green flag. Men who care about sneakers? Usually cocky, usually athletic, usually know how to use their hips. I’ve never been disappointed.”

Avery arched a brow. “Never?”

“Okay, once.” Sam tilted her head, pretending to think. “But he had a foot fetish. Tried to make me step on him in the middle of it. I couldn’t focus.”

Avery bit her lip to stop another laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Samantha hooked her arm through Avery’s and dragged her toward a rack of dresses. “And you’re boring. Look at you. All neutral colors, little work slacks. You dress like HR, Avery. Not like the woman who should be making men cry for the right reasons.”

“I work with professional athletes,” Avery reminded her flatly, pulling a beige blazer away from Samantha’s hands. “Not exactly the environment for ”

“Excuses.” Samantha shoved a short, strappy black dress into Avery’s arms. “Try this. Just once. Something that says: I don’t just fix hamstrings, I ruin lives.”

Avery held the hanger like it might explode. “Sam…”

“Don’t Sam me. You’re hiding something.” Samantha narrowed her eyes in that sharp, playful way that made Avery uneasy. “There’s a reason you’ve been… glowing. Don’t think I didn’t notice. Who is he?”

“No one.” Too quick. Too firm.

Samantha’s grin stretched slow and wide. “Ohhh. That was defensive. Definitely someone.”

Avery sighed, adjusting the dress in her arms. “It’s not what you think.”

“Mm-hmm.” Samantha tugged her toward the fitting rooms. “Fine, keep your little secrets. But wear the dress. Even if it’s just for me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

⸻

The fitting room mirrors were merciless. Avery stood inside, the black dress hugging her curves tighter than she was prepared for. She’d spent years perfecting an armor of professionalism blazers, polos, crisp trousers, practical shoes. This? This was a weapon.

When she stepped out, Samantha’s jaw dropped.

“See?” Sam clapped like she’d won an award. “Men would throw contracts at you dressed like that. Forget jerseys. Forget playbooks. You’d be the whole damn stadium.”

Avery tugged the hem down, uncomfortable under the weight of Samantha’s hungry gaze. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look dangerous.” Samantha smirked, pulling her phone out. “Turn. I need pictures.”

“No pictures.” Avery ducked back into the fitting room before Samantha could snap one, heart ticking fast.

Because for a split second, she hadn’t looked like a therapist or a professional.

She’d looked like a woman Zayne would stare at with that cutting, dangerous gaze.

And that thought? That was dangerous.

Avery was still tugging the dress off in the fitting room when she heard Samantha outside, her voice sharp in a way it hadn’t been all afternoon.

“Why the f**k are you here, Devin?”

Avery froze mid motion, fabric halfway down her hips.

Samantha’s ex.

She pulled on her work trousers quickly, stuffed the black dress back onto its hanger, and stepped out.

Devin stood by the storefront entrance, leaning like he had a right to be there. He was tall, handsome in that lazy way that screamed wasted potential, beard too patchy to be intentional, sneakers scuffed like he hadn’t bought a new pair since their last fight. His smirk was oily, dripping with the kind of arrogance Avery despised.

“Relax, Sam.” Devin lifted his hands in mock innocence. “Can’t a man shop without being accused of stalking?”

“You don’t shop,” Samantha snapped. “You loiter. Big difference.”

Avery stepped between them instinctively, shoulders squared. “You should go.”

Devin’s eyes flicked to her, slow and dismissive. “And you are?”

“The friend who won’t hesitate to call security,” Avery said evenly.

For a beat, it was silent. The mall’s background hum of chatter and footsteps seemed louder, like the universe was waiting for something to break. Samantha folded her arms, chin high, but Avery could see the way her nails dug into her own skin.

Devin tilted his head. “Cute. Always got a bodyguard, huh, Sam? Guess that’s why you couldn’t handle a real man.”

“Real man?” Samantha barked out a laugh, but it was edged with venom. “Devin, you couldn’t handle your own damn phone bill. Don’t start.”

His jaw ticked. The smirk faltered.

Avery took a small step forward. Her voice was calm, steady. “You need to leave. Now.”

But Devin didn’t move. His gaze hardened, his voice dropping low. “Or what?”

That’s when it happened.

A shadow slid across the glossy floor as someone much taller stepped into the scene.

“Or you deal with me.”

The voice was unmistakable. Smooth, sharp, threaded with arrogance.

Zayne.

He looked out of place in the mall black hoodie draped over broad shoulders, sweatpants cut just right, sneakers that cost more than Devin’s rent. A baseball cap pulled low, but not low enough to hide the piercing eyes trained on the man standing too close to Avery and Samantha.

Devin shifted instantly, like he’d been shoved by invisible hands. Recognition flashed, followed by something sour. “Wait… you’re ”

“Yeah,” Zayne cut him off. “And you’re in my way.”

The casual menace in his tone had Devin flinching. He tried to mask it with a scoff. “This isn’t your business, man.”

Zayne’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “It became my business the second you raised your voice at them.”

The tension snapped like static. People nearby slowed their steps, phones hovering in their hands, sensing something worth recording.

Avery stepped in quickly, voice low but firm. “Zayne don’t make a scene.”

He didn’t even glance at her. His eyes stayed locked on Devin, sharp and cold. “Walk away. While you still can.”

For a second, Devin looked like he might push it. His pride wrestled with his fear. But then Zayne stepped closer, close enough that Devin had to crane his neck up, and whatever fight Devin had drained out of him.

He muttered something under his breath and turned on his heel, storming off down the polished floor.

Samantha exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “God, he’s pathetic.”

Zayne finally looked at Avery, gaze cutting straight through her. “You okay?”

It was a simple question, but the way his voice wrapped around it made it feel like something else.

Avery lifted her chin, professional mask snapping into place. “We didn’t need saving.”

“Didn’t look that way.” He shrugged, like the entire encounter had barely registered for him. Then his eyes slid to Samantha. “You good?”

Samantha smirked, regaining her fire. “Better now that my ex is crying in the parking lot.”

That actually pulled a corner of Zayne’s mouth up into something resembling amusement. He jerked his head toward the mall exit. “Let’s go. My place is close. Safer there.”

Avery frowned. “That’s not necessary ”

“It wasn’t a request.”

The arrogance. The command. She wanted to bristle, to argue but Samantha looped her arm through Avery’s before she could.

“I like the sound of that,” Sam said with a grin. “Come on, Ave. It’s not every day you get escorted to a football star’s penthouse. Let’s enjoy it.”

Avery exhaled, already regretting this. But Zayne was already walking toward the exit, casual dominance in every step, and Samantha tugged her along like a giddy accomplice.