Page 7 of Consummation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #3)
Five
Kat
“Who are all the guys who’ll be playing?” I ask. “Will Reed be there?”
It’s Saturday morning and Josh and I are zooming down the freeway in his Lamborghini, en route to a park where Josh is meeting his buddies for their regular Saturday-morning game of flag football—another in a long line of “this-is-what-real-life-would-be-like-if-we-lived-in-the-same-city” activities Josh has planned for us this weekend.
“No, Reed won’t be there,” Josh says, steering his car onto an exit ramp. “He’s in London with one of his bands. But Henn will be there, plus a bunch of our old fraternity brothers. And lots of guys bring random buddies or brothers to round out the teams.”
“I’m excited to see Henny,” I say.
“He said the same about you. You sure you won’t get bored?”
“Are you kidding? It’s gonna be real life, right? Exciting .”
Josh chuckles. “Well, if you change your mind and get bored out of your skull, you can always jog around the field and get in a workout. I won’t be offended.”
“Great,” I say, even though I have no intention of jogging around the field. If I did, I’d almost certainly have to dart behind a bush to barf my lungs out by the second lap. “I’m sure I won’t get bored, though,” I add.
Josh slows the car and makes a right turn, and then another, and, all of a sudden, we’re in the empty parking lot of a massive football stadium.
“Hey, I know this place,” I say. I’ve never been to this particular stadium in person, but I’ve watched enough college football on TV to know it’s the famed Rose Bowl—the legendary football stadium where UCLA plays its games.
“You and your friends are playing flag football at the freaking Rose Bowl ?” I ask, incredulous.
“How? Are we gonna climb the fence and sneak in?”
Josh chuckles. “No, we’re not gonna sneak in—I rented the place.” He pulls his car into a parking spot and kills the engine.
“You rented the Rose Bowl ?” I ask, my jaw hanging open.
“Yup.”
I can’t believe my ears. “Do you regularly rent the Rose Bowl for friendly games of flag football?”
“Nope. First time.” He grins. “Actually, I rented the place specifically for you, Party Girl.”
“For me ?” I look at him dumbly.
Josh reaches across my body, opens his glove box, and pulls out a laminated ID badge attached to a lanyard. “How else am I gonna play in the Super Bowl?” he asks.
I touch the edge of the badge dangling from Josh’s hand to stop it from twirling and gasp when I’m able to read the card. It’s a press badge identifying me as “Heidi Kumquat, Reporter for ESPN,” bearing the photo from my Oksana passport.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, my cheeks flushing. Just from this press badge alone, I know exactly what imaginary-porno Josh and I are about to act out.
But just in case I had a sliver of a doubt, Josh promptly lays a poker chip in my palm. “Hey, Heidi Kumquat. Guess what?” Josh says, a naughty smile dancing on his lips. “I hear the MVP of the Super Bowl has a thing for blondes—and a really big dick.”