Page 89
Story: Play Maker
“I told Riley that you drank it, anyway, because it matched your personality—dry and a little bitter.”
“Not gonna lie, it was an ego boost more than an insult.” He chuckles. “How about that charity event that you were emceeing and said some shit like, up next, number 68—great blocker, questionable attitude.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a lie.” I laugh then admit, “I was sure you winked at me to get me going and lived in that moment for two months. Then I finally admitted to myself I was delusional.”
“Oh, I winked.” He chuckled. “How about that one trivia night where I got one stupid question wrong, and you told everyone I peaked in college?”
I nudge him. “Your response was well—you peaked in high school.”
“Would apologize for that if you had apologized for calling me a Midwest Meathead during a live Q&A.”
“Sorry?”
“I call bullshit.”
Grinning, I asked, “Did you ever open those conversation hearts we passed out last Valentine’s Day?”
“You mean the package that every heart was stamped ‘emotionally unavailable’ was intentional?”
“Special ordered those damn things.”
“Little bit true,” he admitted.
“I wouldn’t change a thing.”
* * *
I wake up to the smell of bacon, brush my teeth, throw on some sweats, and head down to see Kolby at the stove.
“Morning, Lo,” he says, setting down the spatula and pulling me into a hug … a freaking hug.
“One day, you’ll have to show me how to use the cast iron.”
“’Kay.” I look up at him and, seriously, I think he gets better looking every day, which is probably why I say, “We successfully made it through a night without breaking a rule.”
“Skinner himself broke rule number 7, which was that you weren’t supposed to know about the rules to begin with.” He winks. “So, when we break it, I am not going to beat myself up about it.”
From above us, I hear, “Break it up, roomies. We got to jet.”
“You just made breakfast,” I say.
“Made it for you.” He kisses my forehead. “See you later?”
“Yeah, later.”
Skinner pops a kiss to my cheek. “You’ll see me, too.”
“Can’t wait, roomie.” I give him a thumbs-up.
As they walk out the door, I hear Kolby growl, “Kiss her again, and all you’ll see is dirt.”
Skinner throws his head back and laughs loud enough to wake the entire valley.
As I’m eating bacon and scrambled egg whites, I get a text.
#68:
Sending screenshots so you know the schedule. See you later, Lo.
“Not gonna lie, it was an ego boost more than an insult.” He chuckles. “How about that charity event that you were emceeing and said some shit like, up next, number 68—great blocker, questionable attitude.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a lie.” I laugh then admit, “I was sure you winked at me to get me going and lived in that moment for two months. Then I finally admitted to myself I was delusional.”
“Oh, I winked.” He chuckled. “How about that one trivia night where I got one stupid question wrong, and you told everyone I peaked in college?”
I nudge him. “Your response was well—you peaked in high school.”
“Would apologize for that if you had apologized for calling me a Midwest Meathead during a live Q&A.”
“Sorry?”
“I call bullshit.”
Grinning, I asked, “Did you ever open those conversation hearts we passed out last Valentine’s Day?”
“You mean the package that every heart was stamped ‘emotionally unavailable’ was intentional?”
“Special ordered those damn things.”
“Little bit true,” he admitted.
“I wouldn’t change a thing.”
* * *
I wake up to the smell of bacon, brush my teeth, throw on some sweats, and head down to see Kolby at the stove.
“Morning, Lo,” he says, setting down the spatula and pulling me into a hug … a freaking hug.
“One day, you’ll have to show me how to use the cast iron.”
“’Kay.” I look up at him and, seriously, I think he gets better looking every day, which is probably why I say, “We successfully made it through a night without breaking a rule.”
“Skinner himself broke rule number 7, which was that you weren’t supposed to know about the rules to begin with.” He winks. “So, when we break it, I am not going to beat myself up about it.”
From above us, I hear, “Break it up, roomies. We got to jet.”
“You just made breakfast,” I say.
“Made it for you.” He kisses my forehead. “See you later?”
“Yeah, later.”
Skinner pops a kiss to my cheek. “You’ll see me, too.”
“Can’t wait, roomie.” I give him a thumbs-up.
As they walk out the door, I hear Kolby growl, “Kiss her again, and all you’ll see is dirt.”
Skinner throws his head back and laughs loud enough to wake the entire valley.
As I’m eating bacon and scrambled egg whites, I get a text.
#68:
Sending screenshots so you know the schedule. See you later, Lo.
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