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I grabbed my cologne, spraying it onto my neck before putting it back down. I glanced at myself once in the mirror, then put my shoes on. We're all going to drink at the bar that's downstairs, within the hotel. All, as in the team and our assistants.

Coach doesn't drink. He faced a problem with his addiction in his thirties and never touched a bottle since he turned sober.

As I tied my laces, I thought about Demi. She's always like this after we win a game. Cheery, smiling wider, chattier. And so am I. But today was different. I let myself laugh in front of her, and I'm pretty sure that was the first time. She fangirled. Which I know she does sometimes but she usually hides it pretty well.

I notice because I can but today it was hard not to notice.

I don't know if it's because we won the first preseason game and I'm still bathing in its afterglow like my teammates, or if something really has changed about Demi, or if my mother's words have engraved themself into my mind, but she's running circles on my mind and it's like I'm paying extra attention to her. My eyes are drawn to her, I'm noticing the little things. And it's... weird.

I've never seen Demi in a light like that, I refused to. It's unprofessional to think about your assistant like... that. I remember how things were when she first came to work for me.

Before anything, the first thought that I had the moment I laid my eyes on her was:

She's pretty.

Followed by:

Wow, she's tiny. She's kind of cute. Can she even last working for me? She's scared of me. She seems determined.

And the last one:

She'll stick around, she's the one.

"Goddamn you, Mom," I hissed under my breath.

My mother wasn't the first person to ask or insinuate that something was going on between Demi and me, I've heard that thousands of times. It was released as an article in numerous magazines when she first started working for me. But it wasn't true. I knew it wasn't true. But when you hear your mother saying it, you start to doubt it a little more. And then Demi responded like that.

As if there was no chance in hell that something could ever happen between us. If she wasn't my assistant, why couldn't it? Does she not think I'm handsome anymore? Does she not fangirl over me any more? Well, I proved that wrong tonight, she does. I couldn't pinpoint what it might be. Maybe she's just being professional and not even thinking thoughts like I am, like I have been since that lunch. But if she wasn't my assistant, why couldn't something happen between us? Was she not attracted to me? Not into me even a little bit?

I frowned to myself as I pocketed my wallet, phone, and room key. Even if she is my assistant, why can't something happen between us? It shouldn't be a problem as long as nobody finds out. When you're doing something you're not supposed to, it's only a problem if you get caught.

As I reached for the door handle to leave, I stopped and forced myself to stop thinking all this shit. It's driving me insane. I huffed and opened the door, closing it behind me just as the door in front of me opened and Demi walked out while scrolling through her phone.

"Interview at five, so we leave tomorrow by..." she mumbled to herself, biting her bottom lip. She looked up, blinking and flashing me a small smile as she put her phone in her purse. "Hey. Are you heading to the bar?"

I nodded once.

"Me too." We walked in silence to the elevator. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was wearing a full-sleeve, skin-tight dress that hugged her nicely. It was cinched in and stopped near her midthigh. She wore black heels to match it and carried a black purse. I know that purse. That's the purse she bought after saving her first three paychecks.

I remember her telling me about it. And then me telling her I didn't care what she did with the money I gave her because I paid her to work for me, not talk to me.

"You look nice," she said while pressing the button to the elevator.

I glanced down at my full-sleeve fitted black t-shirt and the black pants. "I dress like this all the time," came my reply.

She nodded slowly as the elevator opened. She waited for me to walk in first before standing beside me, pressing the button to the lobby. "Are you going to need me at the bar tonight?" she asked.

"Why?" I glanced at her.

"The other assistants all want to go out, maybe go to some bars near us. I was thinking if you don't need me, I can go with them."

"No."

She paused, "No?"

"I don't want you to be hungover tomorrow morning. One of us has to be sober and good enough to drive the whole way and it won't be me."

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Of course not."

"Is there any press?"

"There might be. You don't ride with the team on the bus, so people usually assume you're staying at a different hotel but they know the bus is here. They know the rest of the team is here, I'm sure people will be around hoping to see you guys."

The elevator opened with a ding.

"Then make sure they stay away from me."

"You're drinking a lot tonight? Again?"

I looked at her. "I only drink after games, Tiffany. It's not a problem for anyone and it's your job to take care of me, isn't it? Why? Do you not want me drinking tonight so you can drink instead?"

"No," she sighed, "I just don't want you to drink and do what you did last..." she trailed off, her eyes wide.

I blinked, trying to recall but came up blank. "What did I do last time?"

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing. Um, the others must be waiting, come on." She quickly walked to the bar, holding the door for me.

I gave her a wry look and walked past her, spotting a few of the guys here already, sitting in the area that was reserved for us.

"I'll be at the counter with the others if you need me," Demi said before standing with the other assistants.

"Don't tell me," Christian said, leaning back in his seat while sipping on whiskey. "You're not letting her drink tonight either?"

"She needs to drive tomorrow," I replied, taking out my phone and texting Demi to bring me a glass of whiskey from the bar.

"She needs to do this, she needs to do that, blah, blah, blah," Logan rolled his eyes, already seeming tipsy. "Give her a break," he groaned.

"No, really," Michael nodded. "You work her harder than any of us work our assistants. We're all surprised she stays."

"You're so much to put up with," Cody agreed. "You don't deserve such a good assistant."

"Absolutely not," Christian scoffed.

I put my phone screen down on the table, facing the guys. "Jealous much?"

"Very much," they all said in sync. They all chuckled while I leaned back into the couch, taking a look around.

"Your drink." I looked over at Demi as she held it out.

"Did you—"

"I watched him pour it and I brought it to you myself," she said before I could ask. She nodded towards the glass. "Take it."

I took it out of her hands and nodded, dismissing her.

"She's pretty," Logan sighed, watching her walk away.

"Too pretty to be an assistant," Cody agreed.

"Too young to be an assistant," Michael added. "She just got out of college when she started working for you, no?"

I nodded, downing the drink and then texting Demi for another one.

"The girl can't catch a break," Christian huffed. "School, college, Vince. Does she ever have any fun?"

"Your drink." I took the second glass from her and she went back to the others.

"She's good at what she does and last I checked, she doesn't hate the job enough to quit it just yet," I replied with a shrug, sipping on this drink slowly.

"Have you never thought about her as anything more than an... uh..." Logan slurred.

"Assistant," Michael prompted, making Logan nod in agreement.

"What?" My brows furrowed.

"If our assistants were like hers, we'd be in trouble," Cody heaved a breath, downing his drink.

"I'd be in love," Christian chuckled, nodding suggestively.

"Tiffany?" I scoffed, glancing at her. "Please. She's... a good..."

"Girl?" Logan smirked.

"Good assistant," I emphasized. "Plus, she'd lose her job and I'd lose a good assistant if something ever happened."

"But don't you ever—"

I downed the drink, putting the glass on the table with a loud bang, feeling my blood pulse faster from the alcohol rush. "Let's not talk about Tiffany," I sighed. "Tiffany!"

She walked over with her own glass in her hands. "Yeah?"

"Get me a drink," I said, looking up at her. She nodded with a polite smile and went to get me another one.

We started talking about the game, a few other teams, and whatnot. And as the night went on, Tiffany got me another drink, and another, and another.

"Tiffany!" I bellowed.

She came over, almost tripping and spilling her drink. "Hmm?"

I faced her to ask for another drink while Logan, who was shit-faced, called it a night. His assistant helped lead him to the elevator and he left.

My eyes narrowed at her face. "Are you tipsy?"

Her cheeks were flushed. She shook her head quickly. "A drink? I'll be right back, boss!" She scurried away quickly.

The rest of the guys and I watched as she downed her drink, and then ordered mine, watching the glass carefully. "She's tipsy," Christian laughed.

"How cute," Michael mumbled, sipping on his drink.

She stumbled, plopping down on the barstool while holding her head in her hands.

Cody chuckled softly. "She's... somethin' else, man."

I blinked and leaned back, groaning softly, feeling the alcohol rush to my head all at once.

"Oop, that's it! His limit! No more drinks for Hunter!" Christian announced.

"One more. I already ordered," I mumbled, resting my head on the back of the couch.

"Here you go." She put the glass in front of me and waved enthusiastically, ready to rush back to the bar.

I grabbed her arm, pulling her to sit on the empty spot beside me. She blinked, her eyes wide as she stared at me.

Michael and Christian shared a chuckle while Cody mumbled, "Well, shit."

"You," I cleared my throat, pointing at her. "Sit right here. And when I finish..." I held up my glass. "This drink!" I yelled over the music. "You drop me to my room. Understood?"

She nodded slowly, staring at me. "Understood," she whispered.

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