“So I said to the girl doing my manicure, I like them rounded, not square!”

A bunch of the girls surrounding the woman telling her story cackle, as if it’s the most absurd thing they’ve ever heard.

I roll my eyes, realizing that maybe this section isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

For the first time in my life, and in my knowing Paxton Shaw, I am officially sitting in the wives and girlfriends section. An exclusive club, the manicured, dyed, waxed women around me have baited and hooked professional athletes, and their diamonds and designer sunglasses are a testament to that.

I wasn’t aware that it was “uncool” to wear your player’s number, or any kind of gear for that matter, and so here I sit. In a Cheetahs T-shirt and jeans, with my favorite white canvas sneakers. Most of these women are in leather pants, heels, or some kind of revealing blouse. I feel like such an outsider, but am so happy just to have had Pax ask me to sit here for him today that I’m grinning and bearing it.

“Don’t listen to those hags. We call them the WAGS.” A pretty redhead sits down next to me, her attire more casual than the group in front of me.

“Oh, you’re not a player’s wife?” I thought this section was only for family.

“No, I am. Number eighty-seven, Charles West, that’s my man!” She whoops her fist and whistles. Some of the other girls turn around to look at her, disdain in their eyes. “But I’m a wife. Dedicated to my husband’s career and helping him grow, while also raising our family and being an independent woman. Those … those are WAGS. Girls who just want the title and money of dating a professional athlete.”

“Ah, gotcha.” I breathed a sigh of relief that perhaps there were some normal women if I was going to be sitting here. “I’m Demi … I’m here for, or I guess with, I don’t know. But um … Paxton Shaw. That’s who I’m here to see.”

She holds out a hand for me to shake. “Hillary, nice to meet you. I can tell you’re definitely not a WAG. Stick with us, you’ll be fine.”

Hillary points to two girls sitting next to her, and they introduce themselves as Willow and Nicole. I wave, feeling a bit more comfortable than I previously had.

“So, you’re all married to players?” I ask, trying to find out a little more about the women I’ll probably be spending some time with over the next year.

“Yep. Willow married Bradley, he’s on the defensive line, a year ago. And Nicole has been with Jacob, the backup quarterback, for about seven years. And me … Charles and I are high school sweethearts. Almost thirteen years together, but only eight married.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t imagine being with someone that long, but it sounded nice.

“How about you? Pax was just signed here; did you move with him?” There is no judgment in Hillary’s kind brown eyes, just curiosity.

I scratch my head. “Um, no … we actually kind of used to know each other in college, I’ve been in Charlotte ever since. When he moved back, we started seeing each other. We’ve been dating about two months.”

Willow leans over. “Wait a minute, you’re Demi Rosen … you organized that wish day for the little boy with cancer a few months back. I know you! You’re the CEO of Wish Upon a Star!”

Her voice carries and the pack of WAGS look back, studying me for the first time.

I blush because I really don’t like to be the center of attention. “Um, yeah …”

“Oh, girl, you do the work of God. Seriously, I bow down to you. What you do for those families is so amazing.” Hillary touches my arm, and I can’t stop blushing.

I don’t do what I do for the recognition, and it’s awkward for me when I’m praised for it. “Well, we just do it for the children, that’s all.”

Nicole and Willow smile at me, and Hillary keeps chattering away, moving onto the next subject.

The game is intense, especially from the great seats that are designated as the family section. Pax scores two touchdowns, pointing up at me both times he makes it into the end zone. I can’t help but blush as Hillary jabs me with her elbow, pointing me out as his “boo.” In the end, they win, bringing their record to nine and one.

After the game, the girls bring me to wait with them in a room that has a full spread of food, a fully stocked bar, and dozens of people waiting for the players to come up out of the locker room. Kids run around, playing tag while their mothers sipped wine or spoke to staff from the stadium or front office.

And then finally, big burly men in impeccable suits start to emerge. One after another, greeted by squealing kids or happy wives, kissing and hugging.

Paxton walks in toward the middle of the pack, his hair still damp and curling up past his neck. The dark blond stubble on his chin has a few errant water droplets, and his gray suit brings out the blue in his eyes. I want to drool, or straddle him, but I refrain from both. Instead, I give him a shy wave and wait for him to walk to me.

But he doesn’t walk, he runs. Straight at me, until he’s in front of me, picking me up around the waist and gripping the back of my neck so that I’m forced to kiss him. The meeting of our mouths sends shockwaves straight to my core, and if we weren’t in a room full of people, and children, I would start undressing him right here.

A couple of wolf whistles break me out of my Paxton lust-haze, and I hit his shoulder, signaling for him to put me down.

People are still clapping and staring, and I bury my head in his chest. “You are too much.”

“Sorry, I’ve just never had a woman waiting in the family room for me. Feels pretty damn good … especially since it’s you that is waiting for me.”

“So, you can finally call me your girlfriend, huh?”

I think back to the time of a bet, one that hurt me so bad when I found out about it. He wouldn’t say it back then … but he was saying it now. I had to focus on that.

“You know it, baby. And I’m your boyfriend. Hey, I like how that sounds.” Pax kisses me again. “Did you have a good time?”

I nod as Paxton laces his fingers through the ones on my left hand, and pulls me over to the food line. If breakfast last week was any indication, he had to be absolutely famished after expending that much energy during the game.

“I did. Met some very nice ladies. Hillary West. She’s very down to earth; kind.” I look around the room, spotting Hillary as she smacks a kiss on the man who must be Charles.

“That’s what I’ve heard … good, I’m glad you met someone you can talk to since I want you at every single game from now on. You’re my lucky charm.” Pax piles chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, and more onto a plate.

“Paxton, you’ve played in the league for eight years, and I don’t know much, but I know that you have a ring, or maybe more. I am not your lucky charm.” I put my hands on my hips.

He walks us to a table, setting down his plate and kissing me on the nose. “Yes, you are. No more arguing. I’m so hungry that I could pass out.”

“You’re nuts … this is enough food to feed the entire team.” I roll my eyes, taking a french fry off of his plate and popping it in my mouth.

Pax smiles. “That’s why there is a whole other dining room. What, you didn’t think this was the only food, right? We’d all starve!”