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“Okay, so what am I supposed to do now?” I stretch my legs to keep my muscles from locking up on me before tomorrow’s game.
Their eyes grow big. Lonan leans all the way forward, pointing at me, and shifting his eyes from Rhys to Barrett. “He didn’t even check her out!”
I crane my neck around. “Was she hot?” I turn, but she’s already gone.
“She wasyourversion of hot,” he replies.
Impossible. Only Jordan is my version of hot.
Barrett narrows his eyes at me and smirks.I purse my lips, glaring back at him, and shake my head.He better not tell the guys.
“He added her to the WAGs box list.”
“You motherfucker”—I point at him with my beer bottle and a stern look—“I told you that in confidence.”
Like a coward, he leans away from me and looks down,holding up both hands. Rhys and Lonan slowly turn their heads to me.
“Fuck all of you,” I say, laughing and shaking my head as I lift the beer to my lips.
“Okay, okay,” Barrett says. “Here’s what you do?—”
“Uh, no offense, but you’re a fucking simp. I’d like to poll other members of the jury, thank you very much.”
He rolls his eyes at me.
“Be straight with her and tell her you wanna do more than fuck.” Rhys shrugs. “It’s not complicated.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from her, and my heart rate quickens like it does every time her name shows up on my screen.
Jordan: Micky and I are going to be sister-wives.
I grin, it fills my chest to hear she’s bonding and making friends of her own. And yeah... I like that it’s with some of the WAGs.
Me: The fuck you are. You stay away from Rhys. He’s too young.
Jordan: He’s the same age as me.
Me: Exactly.
Jordan: You’re ridiculous.
Me: I’m a goddamn delight, and according to my second grade teacher, a joy to have in class. You like me.
She doesn’t respond, and I’m okay with that. Silence is better than denial.
40
“Do you think they like each other?” I ask Micky as our dogs “play” in Micky and Rhys’s uptown loft, smashing into furniture like two clumsy beasts, all seven legs skittering across the floor—Chicken Salad four, Craig three.
“Right? Do you want something to drink?”
“Sure, I’ll take some water.” I take a seat on the couch, then bounce on the cushion twice. Comfy. “I like your sofa,” I say, as she returns to the living room with a glass of sparkling water.
“IKEA.”
“Nice.” I take a sip of the water and lean back. “Thanks for letting me crash with you.”
She takes a gulp of her water and folds her legs up under her on the couch. “Okay, sorry, I’m nosy and this is driving me nuts—what the hell is going on with you and Banksy? I’ve been hounding Rhys, and he can’t figure it out either.”
