“Slender Man?” Nose Stud shook her head. “That’s so over. What the heck, Bianca?”
“It was two years ago.” Bianca crossed her arms, her lower lip extending. “Slender Man was a thing.”
Skull Tee tapped the toe of her Chucks. “Dude. Get over it. Do you know how many real-life massacres and murders you could have researched instead? I mean, Lizzie Borden?”
Yet more silence.
“Fine.” Bianca dropped her arms and glared at Rose. “Consider the vendetta cancelled.”
And there it was. Victory.
He smiled and turned to Rose. “If there’s no more vendetta, they can dunk me instead of you. Come on out.”
Her brow had beetled, and she didn’t climb out of the tank. Instead, she tilted her head toward Bianca, eyes pleading with him for…something.
Dammit.
A single glance at the young woman revealed everything. She seemed deflated. No longer gleeful. And her team shifted behind her, uneasy.
Fine. He could fix this too.
“Hey, Bianca.” He rolled up his sleeves, not that it would matter in a minute. “Let’s talk about how overrated Tim Burton’s films are.”
Her shoulders slowly pulled back. “What did you just say?”
Once again, he extended a hand to Rose. This time she took it, and the explosion of prideful glee inside him might have been disproportionate, but he didn’t care. A win was a win.
“You heard me. Quirk does not always equal quality.”
Once Rose was dripping safely on the polished wood floor of the gym, the parent manning the booth handed over a plush towel and a bundle of clothing. Martin draped the towel over Rose’s shoulders, using its corners to blot her eyes and cheeks in careful dabs.
“Oh, I heard you. Ladies?” Bianca stretched her pitching arm. “Did you hear Mr. Krause too?”
Nose Stud cracked her knuckles. “Oh, yeah.”
“You’re mine, Mr. Krause. I’m watching you.” Skull Tee pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at his. “I call next turn.”
“No one insults Tim Burton.” Bianca paused. “Except about issues of diversity and maybe gender dynamics.” Another pause, and then she recovered herself. “No one.”
A pool had formed beneath Rose, and her tail squished as she widened her stance.
“Don’t fall on the wet floor,” he told her, unable to stop himself.
Seventeen-plus years of Dad training. He couldn’t abandon it at a moment’s notice.
She sighed, but her lips curved. “Thanks for that necessary tip, Mr. Krause.”
One more swipe of those adorable freckles. Then he forced his fingers to release the towel, handed her the clothing bundle, and entered the tank.
The wooden seat below him tilted a bit to the front, ready to drop, and droplets of chilly water soaked through his pants. The bluish pool waited beneath. Its chlorinated water smelled like triumph.
He grinned at Rose, who’d wrapped the ends of her hair in her towel and commandeered another cloth to wipe the floor. She smiled back, amber eyes warm and unguarded.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
His chest expanded in a heady rush, but he forced his attention back to the softball team’s captain. “I’ll repeat: Burton’s movies are overrated. EspeciallyEdward Scissorhands. What are you going to do about it, Perez?”
“I’ll give you one guess.”
