pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ MUCH BETTER, BOYS „

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Tatum Greene had never felt as glamorous as she did as she walked the red carpet before entering Rebecca Welton's charity benefit for underprivileged children.

Her dress was black, silk, with a plunging neckline and a back just as low. Her lips were painted red, her hair was in a low braided bun, and her jewelry was gold, which matched Sam's suit jacket and pants. She had to admit, they looked pretty good paired together.

"This is so great!" Sam cheered from his spot on the red carpet, his genuine enthusiasm so contagious that Tate couldn't help her own laugh despite her nerves. Usually, she was the one taking photos for the team—she was so far from being comfortable with being in them. "Thank you guys so much for taking my picture. What are your names?"

"I'm going to let you take some on your own, Sammy. I'll meet you in there." Tate muttered to him, squeezing his arm in silent goodbye. He nodded, though he was already trying his best to remember the names of the paparazzi—or was just making up the names as he went.

Chuckling to herself, Tate slipped off the red carpet and headed into the gorgeous venue, making a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping. Everything looked expensive, and every one of the dozens of people milling around looked rich.

Self-consciousness began to creep into her heart, doubting whether or not she should have allowed Sam to talk her into going. She was still annoyed with Colin and Isaac, still wasn't talking with them, and had been avoiding visiting the locker room. But if what Sam had told her was true, the situation down there was bleak, between her absence and Roy and Jamie's constant arguing—which had even escalated into a shoving match.

Maybe being around those boys was the exact opposite of what she needed to do, if settling her nerves was her primary goal.

"Holy fucking shit, you look fucking hot, babe!" Startled from her thoughts as she moved between tables, Tate nearly jumped out of her skin as Keeley's voice filled the air. Turning towards the table the voice had come from, Tate found that Keeley was sitting at the one table she did not want to be at. Keeley, Jamie, Roy, Ted, Nate, and Richard. The Frenchman looked as if he was hoping she would save him.

"Thanks, Keeley." Tate recovered, trying her best to ignore the disgruntled looks from elderly donators sitting at nearby tables at Keeley's explicative-filled outburst. "You look really good too, damn."

Jamie mumbled his agreement, and it was then that Tate finally realized just what he was wearing. A suit jacket, without a shirt, which made him look ridiculous. She couldn't help the snort she let out at the sight, setting one hand on the back of Roy's chair that she stood behind.

"That was my first reaction, too." Roy agreed, sounding almost giddy Tate had laughed at the man that was probably his sworn enemy. "But Keeley is right, you look very nice, Tate."

"Aw, thanks Uncle Roy." Tate taunted, pressing a kiss to his cheek. At his unintelligible grumble, she chuckled at his expense, using her thumb to wipe away the lipstick stain.

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Not a chance." She shook her head, grinning widely.

"It's 'cause you're old enough to be her uncle," Jamie shot back, sounding as if just sitting so close to Roy was causing him physical pain. Tate raised her brows and shared a look with Keeley, the two girls quickly devolving into giggles.

"Well, Tater Tot! Why don't you pull up a chair and join us?" Ted declared, trying and failing to defuse the tension building between player and captain. At least they seemed less inclined to break out into another fight, held back by their shreds of finery.