I lean forward. “Yeah.”
“He's doing it every time.”
“Then we make him pay for it.”
Lucas smiles a little. “That's the plan.”
Twenty minutes later, we're talking about pizza again. Okay, it’s me. I am talking about pizza.
“When the season's over,” Lucas says, “you can eat an entire pizza from New York Pizzeria.”
“A whole pizza?” I mock gasp.
“A large.” He winks.
“You’re the best man, truly,” I grin. “Can I get wings, too?”
“I'm getting wings.”
“We can share.” I lean back and yawn. “Burgers, too.”
“Fries.” He sighs.
“Chocolate milkshake.”
“Vanilla,” he states.
“Chocolate.”
“Vanilla.”
“Chocolate.”
He shakes his head. “You're wrong, so totally wrong.”
“Fuck you.” I laugh.
He throws an almond at me, and yeah, I catch it.
“See?” I smile and point to myself. “Athlete.”
“Yeah, as long as I enforce restrictions.”
I eat the almond. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put me in charge of nutrition.”
Then Lucas glances at the clock. “We've got to figure out tomorrow.”
“Practice?”
“And Dryden.”
I nod. “The Ross girls in little skirts playing field hockey.”
“Yeah.” He smirks.
“We're going straight from practice?”
“That's what I figured.” He yawns now.