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“Thanks, Isla, but you can’t pay for this kind of entertainment. I’ve never seen Seven with deep concentration frowns. He always looks so calm all the time,” I say.
“More like he always looks slightly annoyed to be anywhere with anyone,” she adds.
I laugh. “That’s true.”
I’m glad we left the club and came here to be with our friends. The girl's only night out idea was Tessa’s. She worries that I always feel like the third wheel since we spend a lot of time with the guys.
But I really don’t, and it’s expected that we all spend a lot of time together since we all live and work together. Not to mention that here in a few months, half of our team will leave for the offseason, and the guys are gone on away games frequently. It’s not as if I could get sick of anyone.
The penthouse idea sounds nice, but with it being as late as it is, I know that we would all end up crashing on the large U-shape couch in Lake and Tessa’s place and falling asleep before the food even got to us.
Besides, the guys are leaving tomorrow for a couple of days, playing in Colorado for the first-round Western Conference Playoffs tomorrow. This means we will have more than enough takeout and Love Castaway nights.
I hear my phone ding, and I twist around to grab my phone off the barstool.
WinTheDay067: I hit a snag, but I think I’m working on something right now to get things back on track.
SkatrGirlPen: Good, I’m glad to hear it. If you want any help with the project… I’d be happy to do what I can.
WinTheDay067: You are helping just by giving me the incentive to finish this project as quickly as possible.
I smile at the thought that he considers me an incentive.
I hear the door open to the front door and whip a look to find Slade walking in, tucking his phone in his back pocket.
Was he outside talking to someone?
Something on his forearm catches my eye.
A bandage.
Did he leave because he got cut while in the bar? Did he have an altercation after he walked out of here?
Starting up a conversation with Slade is the last thing on my list of birthday wishes… though curiosity is eating at me.
“Where did you go?” Lake asks.
I’m glad someone asked because I am dying to know how he got that bandage.
“Next door,” he says simply, finding an open barstool.
“Next door? At the tattoo parlor?” Tessa asks, her eyebrows stitching together in confusion. “You got a tattoo at eleven o'clock at night?”
“Sure, why not? I have a lot of tattoos—I have to get them somewhere.”
“Yeah… sure, why not,” she says with a lifted eyebrow and her lips puckered.
Her judgiest expression.
Then she shoots me a look as if to non-verbally say, “Ok, you’re right. This fool is crazy.”
Told you.
I attempt to tell her with telepathy—my go-to preferred superpower, if I was ever given any.
Although if Tessa, Autumn, Isla, and I all had telepathy, I can only imagine how distracting our interconnected brain waves would be.
I would guess that it would feel like what would happen if four separate interstate highways all merged together, at the same time, into a single lane of traffic.
