Page 50 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly

“Do you think it’s healthy to be delirious?” I ask Mae.

She pinches her lips together and looks into the distance. “Yes,” she says when she’s mulled it over. “I think so.”

“Good because that’s what I am, completely delirious. I’m so happy I can’t feel my hands. Or my hair. And unless I concentrate really hard, I can’t feel my eyebrows either.”

“Hmm.” Her own brows draw down slightly. I get the feeling that she’s fine with me not feeling my hands or hair, but the absence of my eyebrows gives her pause.

“Should I be worried? You know, should I be panicking that Sev and I haven’t really spoken about anything important, like our feelings or what we’re going to do when Nate comes to town?

” I sigh dramatically. “It’s just so hard to find the time because we have a grueling schedule and, and because we spend all our free time boning, so it’s hard to make a meaningful conversation happen, you know? ”

“Oh, I know, dear. Managing one’s time can be so tricky.”

“I’m just worried we’re out of touch with reality. We’re ignoring a lot of very real, very important things, and I’m worried it could land us in deep shit later.”

“Well, you know what I always say, Theodore.”

I make a face. In truth, she’s said an awful lot since I met her, and very little of what she’s said hasn’t surprised me in some way or other. I have less than no idea what she’s on about right now.

“Give me a clue,” I suggest.

“Reality schmality,” she says firmly.

I have to hand it to Mae, real or hallucinated, she gives damn solid advice.