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REID: I’m not a stranger.
HOLLYN: Then what’s your explanation for a five-hour trip when you can barely manage a meal with me for one hour?
REID: I managed it just fine.
I mean, he did.
However, it didn’t look like he enjoyed it either.
HOLLYN: Hard pass, but thank you.
REID: Shorty, if you want to talk to Weston about hockey, you need to see a damn game. And my team is playing at home this weekend.
Excitement bubbles in my chest because he’s right; I’ve never been to a game. However, seeing Reid in his element is intriguing enough on its own.
HOLLYN: You want to bring me around your friends?
REID: Why not?
Because you’re the cool kid, bad boy.
And I’m the one that sits in the corner of the room and reads.
Or, that’s how it was in high school anyway, or anytime I’m in a public place.
HOLLYN: What do I need to bring?
REID: Clothes….
Smart ass.
HOLLYN: I’ll book a hotel near the arena? And is it just for a day because I have work?
REID: Hotel is already booked. I’m on my way to pick you up right now.
Wait, what?
HOLLYN: I’m not ready.
REID: No shit. Hence the text.
This man is seriously out of it. Like, the decorum of giving someone proper notice when going somewhere is nonexistent with this one.
However, I’m a go with the flow kinda girl so I can manage packing a bag in no time before he gets here.
HOLLYN: I’ll start packing now, I guess.
REID: Good girl.
How condescending and jerkface of him.
Nonetheless, I still begin pulling a bag from my closet and tell him that I’ll keep the door unlocked to let himself in when he gets here.
I no sooner send the text message and go into my bathroom to pack my toothbrush and toothpaste that he’s standing in the center of my bedroom like a looming psychopath with a black hoodie over his head, and hands shoved into the pockets.
“God, Reid,” I chide, my palm slamming into my chest. “You scared me.”
“Who else would it be?” he returns flatly. “I told you I was coming.”
