Madison:Where’s Zach?
Mike:In the kitchen getting water.
Olivia:Is he still smiling at his phone?
Mike:Yes. He keeps trying not to smile and then randomly smiling again two seconds later.
Madison:OH MY GOD.
Mike:Okay, he’s going to his room.
Madison:FOLLOW HIM.
Mike:Absolutely not.
Madison:DAX. DO IT FOR LOVE.
Dax:I’ll be honest, even I’ve got to draw the line here. I don’t want to hear... things. I still have to live with the guy.
Madison:COWARDS. ALL OF YOU.
“Last chance to join us,” Dax says, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Reese found a place that does smash burgers until midnight, and I'm telling you, I'm going to eat five to celebrate our second win of the season! Whoop!”
Dax bends back so far for the whoop that he has to grab his towel so it doesn't fall.
“I'm staying here,” I say, flexing my fingers while icing my wrist. There’s a tiny bit of pain that still resides there, from the hit I took a few weeks ago, but not enough to get me off that field and prove myself.
“You've said that three times, but it makes no sense. We don't know how many more wins we're gonna get. We need to celebrate every single one?”
I laugh because he’s right. Our first win only happened because of an injury, and this one came down to one horrible play by Dallas. Both victories were basically handed to us. I’m grateful for them, but I also know better than to get comfortable, especially after seeing the way Coach went after Owen at the end of the game. The guy can’t catch a break. We win, and somehow he’s still the one getting ripped apart.
“I'm good. I've got someBaseball Bachelorto catch up on.”
Dax stares at me. “Every day you become more and more like somebody’s emotionally unstable aunt who owns decorative signs that say Live Laugh Love.”
“That’s rich coming from a man one strong sneeze away from flashing the entire team.”
I glance down at the knot on his towel, and he instinctively tightens it.
When he feels like everything is secure, he points at me accusingly. “See? That’s exactly the kind of observational detail a divorced aunt would notice before settling onto her couch with a glass of pinot to see who Sam Brennon gives a rose to.”
“They’re bobbleheads.”
“Excuse me?”
“He gives out bobbleheads.”
Dax blinks at me slowly. “You knowing that makes it somehow worse.”
“Go and eat your burger,” I say, waving him off.
“Okay,” he drawls, “but I'll bring you one back.”
“I don't want one.”
He takes his shirt, pulling it over his head. “Well, you’re getting one,” he says as his head pops through the hole. When he finishes putting his jeans and belt on, he heads back tothe bathroom, only returning once he smells like a boutique fragrance store.
“Alright, I'm going to pick up Reesey-boy. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”
