PREGNANT FOR THE FOOTBALL KING

Episode 3: The Dance

The music slowed, but the two of them just stood there. They didn’t move.

Other couples slipped right into the new tempo, swaying around Ava and Lucas like nothing had changed. But those two? They stayed put. Whatever was hanging between them kept them rooted. His hand was still low on her back, hers still wrapped lazily around his.

“You’re staring,” Ava said.

“So are you.”

“I’m recalibrating.”

“Recalibrating what?”

You were seriously getting on my nerves; I thought you’d be absolutely unbearable tonight.

He smiled—slow, satisfied—like he’d been waiting her to say that. “And now?”

“Jury’s still deliberating.”

“That’s generous.

“I’m a generous person.”

“You threw wine at me.”

I threw wine at you, but let’s be clear, there’s a difference that matters in court, and I’m pretty sure I’d win if this went to trial.

Lucas turned her, hand steady on her back, fingers tight over hers so she couldn’t really pull away. Ava risked a look up at him at exactly the wrong time—the golden light caught the line of his jaw, and for just a second, his eyes went soft with something raw and unguarded. He hadn’t looked like that all night. Not at the podium, not on his entrance. In that blink, he dropped the mask, and Ava saw a piece of something real that he kept hidden from everyone else.

It did something weird to her chest, immediately.

That’s when she noticed her.

A woman stood at the edge of the dance floor—still as stone, while everyone else rocked with the music. Ice-blue silk shimmered around her, sharp and cold, almost like a blade. She wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, just Ava and Lucas. Her stare was so intense it was almost aggressive. But her face—no expression at all. Blank, which somehow felt creepier than anger or jealousy.

Ava stumbled. Just a little.

Lucas caught the shift right away, voice dropping, "What's going on?" He scanned the floor, trying to spot what had thrown her.

He turned—too late. The woman was gone, melted into the crowd. All that remained was a chilly, prickly feeling along the back of Ava’s neck. Like proof she’d really been there.

“Nothing,” Ava lied, working to sound normal as her heart pounded. “I thought I saw someone I knew, but... guess not.”

Lucas’s jaw clenched, something flickering in his eyes, gone too quick for Ava to place it. “Ava—” he started, low and uncertain, leaving whatever he meant unsaid. That look on his face, though, like he wanted her to know something important.

She tried to focus again on his hand warm on her back. That was good—she didn’t want some strange woman’s glare to ruin it. “What were we talking about?” she asked, keeping it light.

He watched her for a moment, maybe a little unsure, before loosening up. “Right here,” he said, pulling her back into the dance—closer now, like he wanted to block out everything else. He moved with quiet control, all his attention locked on her, as if she was the only person that mattered. The music blurred away.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“You’re going to anyway.”

“Why aren’t you asking me for anything?”

“We already covered this.”

“Not like that.” His voice was softer, nearer. People always crowded him—asking for a picture, an intro, a favor hidden inside a joke. But Ava hadn’t asked for a thing. All night.

“Maybe I don’t want anything.”

“Everyone wants something.”

“That’s a rough way to look at life.”

He actually looked tired for a second, but shook it off. “You’re the first person tonight who’s treated me like a human, not a headline.”

“You are a headline.”

He didn’t seem to mind. His thumb traced her hand, slow and deliberate. “And I hope it stays like this. For as long as you’ll let it.”

Ava’s breath caught; she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You say things like that and I can’t tell if you’re using a line or if you’re dead serious. It’s...disorienting.”

I mean what I say. No games, no tricks.

She should've just let it roll off her—some sarcastic comment, the way she had all night. That was safer. But standing there, heart galloping under a chandelier among all these powerful strangers, she let herself be still. And he was staring at her like he could see right through her, and it was probably obvious now, how open she felt. She should’ve locked that all down, but instead she was just standing there, looking like someone who actually cared.

She didn’t hide.

The silence between them felt heavy, like every unspoken thing in the room pressed in, so thick you half expected the music to stop too. Their eyes met and held, and for a heartbeat, nothing else existed.

He pulled her closer, palm on her back, not stopping.

And then, just for a second, Ava caught a flash of ice-blue silk out the corner of her eye. She glanced over, but it was already swallowed up by the crowd, so fast she wasn’t sure it had even been there. Maybe she was imagining things; wouldn’t be the first time tonight.

She pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter now. She wasn’t going to let some ghost ruin this.

When Lucas said her name—"Ava"—it sounded rough, low, like he’d had to wrestle it out.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t say a word.

His hand slid from her back up to her jaw, lifting her face, giving her every exit in the book—she could step away, c***k a joke, break the tension.

She didn’t.

And when Lucas King finally kissed her—it wasn’t slow, wasn’t careful. It was certain. Possessive, like he’d decided the first minute he saw her. Ava Bennett forgot all about exits and women in blue silk. She just forgot.

She didn’t realize, right then, that the woman across the room was watching every second, taking it all in, and she wouldn’t forget a single detail.