Page 11

11

gio

S team still clings to the bathroom mirror as I rub a towel through my hair, the faint ache in my muscles a satisfying reminder of tonight’s game. The second shower of the night was necessary—post-game adrenaline always leaves me too wired to just crash, and nothing clears my head like scalding water and a moment of silence.

The house is quiet, except for the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional creak of the floorboards as I pad barefoot down the hallway.

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and flop onto the couch, letting my head rest against the cushions as I unlock my phone.

Gio: Roses are red, violets are blue, that’s two in a row… so I feel like I owe you…

Austin: Wow.

Austin: Just…WOW.

Gio: I’m a poet and I didn’t know it .

There’s a pause, and I can practically feel her debating how to respond. When the three dots finally appear, I stare, waiting.

Austin: Don’t do that.

Gio: Do what?

Austin: Say you’re a poet and didn’t even know it. That’s horrible. So cheesy.

Gio: Sorry??

I’m not sorry. Not even the tiniest bit.

Austin: Okay pal, let’s get down to business. What’s your excuse for letting that puck past you in the first period?

Gio: Distracted by a certain loudmouth in the stands.

I hesitate for half a second before adding: A sexy, little loudmouth.

Austin: Oh, please. I’m your biggest motivator. That’s why I’m paid the big bucks to be there.

I grin.

Gio: Thanks for coming.

Austin: Well, you’re welcome. But honestly it’s because you made me that offer I couldn’t refuse—aka: anything I want, remember?

As if I would forget. She’s got a way of keeping me on my toes, always pushing, always challenging. It’s addicting.

Gio: Right. Have you decided what that ‘ anything’ is?

This time, there’s a pause. A long one. Long enough that I check my phone twice to make sure the message was actually sent. Finally, the dots appear, and my stomach does this ill-feeling flip I’m not sure I’m okay with.

Austin: Maybe.

I roll my eyes, already knowing where this is going.

Gio: Great, you’re being cryptic. LOVE that for me.

Austin: You’ll love it when I tell you.

Gio: You’re such a pain in the ass.

It’s true—since we met face-to-face she’s been a total pain in my ass. But she’s also the reason I’ve been grinning like an idiot since that day, too. The reason my heart races every time my phone gets a new notification. The reason I’m sitting here, wondering what it is about her that makes everything feel just a little bit brighter.

I want to see her face, not just see her name.

Without overthinking it, I hit Video Chat and settle into the couch cushion, bracing for the possibility that she might not even pick up.

It rings once.

Twice.

On the third ring, the screen shifts, and there she is. Her hair is fanned out across a bright, white pillow, and the annoyed expression on her face is undercut by how utterly gorgeous she looks.

“You are not seriously video chatting me with no advance warning,” she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at the screen.

I pat myself on the back for interrupting her with no warning.

“I like surprises. ”

“I don’t,” she grumbles some more, adjusting the angle of her phone. “I could’ve been in the middle of something, you know.”

“Like what?” I ask, raising a brow. “You’re already in bed.”

“Exactly.”

My grin is shameless. “I love the sound of that.”

Tell me more.

“This is so invasive,” she continues complaining.

“Invasive?” I repeat, laughing as I adjust my phone, trying to find a comfortable angle. “You answered, didn’t you?”

“Only because I was curious!”

“‘Curious?’” I tilt my phone a bit, angling it so I don’t have to hold my arm awkwardly. “About what?”

“About why you’re calling me at”—she glances at the corner of her screen—“ Eleven -thirty at night.”

I shrug, playing it cool. “Wanted to see your face.”

That gives her pause.

Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, she just looks at me, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m being serious or if this is just a dumb joke.

It’s not.

I’m being dead seri?—

“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, flinching so hard my phone nearly slips out of my hand. “What the hell is that?”

“Uh. My dog .”

“That’s a dog?” I blurt, unable to mask the horror in my voice.

As if on cue, an animal slinks into the frame, walking across her pillow with all the regal confidence of a creature that has no business being that confident. It’s... startling. Hairless except for a tuft of fluff on its head and a scraggly plume of a tail.

Its body is so skinny I can see its ribs, and its big, buggy eyes stare straight into my soul as it gets even more comfortable. It hunkers itself down—like a cat—curling around her head like some kind of ghastly stole.

I swallow hard, trying to process the scene in front of me. “I almost pissed my pants.” Gulp. “That dog is the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, because what the hell am I looking at ?

Her jaw drops, and for a split second, she looks like she might actually hang up on me. “Excuse me? He’s beautiful!”

“False. That is the ugliest dog in existence.”

She can’t possibly find that dog adorable.

“First of all,” she says, pointing a finger at the screen, “He’s not ugly. He’s unique.”

I snort.

“That’s what people say when they can’t admit something is ugly.” My large palm runs over my face. “No offense. It’s an overgrown rat with barely any fur.”

She gasps, scandalized, and reaches behind her to cover one of the dog’s floppy, tufted ears with her hand like I’ve just insulted her child and she doesn’t want him to hear it.

“Take that back.”

“I will not,” I say firmly, though my lips twitch as I try not to laugh. “Your dog looks like he belongs in a Tim Burton movie.”

Austin narrows her eyes at me, her fingers gently stroking the dog’s bony back. “You’re lucky Gio is very secure in his identity.”

Come again?

“Wait.” I hold up a hand, my brain short-circuiting. “You named the ugliest dog in existence after me? ”

Her lips twitch, the corners threatening to curl into a grin. “Technically, I am not the one who named him.”

“What?” I blink, confused. “What does that mean?”

“I inherited him after my dad died,” she explains, her voice softening just a little. “Gio was his dog and my dad was a fan.”

That gives me pause.

For a second, I feel like the world’s biggest dickhead—but then I glance at the dog again. He’s still staring at me with his bugged-out eyes and his scrawny body, like he knows we’re talking about him.

“Okay.” I rub the back of my neck. “I get that you didn’t name him, but you kept the name. Which means you’re still partially responsible.”

“He’s too old to have his name changed.” Austin gives him a few scratches behind his ugly ears, already laughing. “This is just a happy accident.”

Glad she finds this so funny.

“Happy?” I ask, utterly incredulous. “This is an identity crisis. ”

Her dog has my name.

I have the dog’s name.

If my mother were alive, I’d be calling her right now to vent about it.

Austin is laughing so hard, tears are streaming down her face as she says, “I can’t believe this is what’s breaking you. Not the heckling, not the game pressure— this. The dog. ”

“That dog is an atrocity,” I can only whisper, still shocked and alarmed.

She gasps, as if I’ve just insulted a family heirloom. “ Atrocity? You’re talking about my dad’s beloved dog. Do you have no soul?”

Welp, it’s official: I’m an asshole.

I just insulted her deceased father’s ugly dog.

“It’s not my fault he looks like he crawled out of the Underworld!” I practically shout at my screen, throwing up the hand not holding my cell. “I mean, come on— look at him.”

“Stop it!” she says, though she’s still laughing as she strokes the dog’s back. “You’re going to hurt his feelings.”

“Hurt his feelings? ” I repeat, incredulous. “He doesn’t have feelings, Austin. He’s too busy plotting world domination.”

Look at him!

“You’re the worst.” She thinks this is hilarious and nothing can convince me otherwise . “This wouldn’t have happened if you had given me notice that you were going to video call.”

I do not believe that for one second. “That is such bullshit.”

She would find a way to torture me regardless .

Her laughter has finally subsided, but there’s still a bright, infectious smile on her face.

And even with her ridiculous, not-cute dog in the frame, I can’t bring myself to look away from her.

“It’s not!” she argues, though the grin on her face gives her away.

“If you had texted me first, I could’ve prepared. Moved Gio off the pillow so you didn’t have a full-blown melt down.”

The fact that she keeps calling the dog Gio is killing me.

Not even softly.

A stab to the heart.

“A meltdown? That is not what this is!” I protest too much, my voice cracking slightly at the end. Great. It’s exactly the tone of having a meltdown.

“Oh no?” she teases, tilting her head as she adjusts the dog so he’s perched even higher on her pillow, his big, unblinking eyes staring directly into the camera. “You’re glad you called, though, aren’t you?”

“I’m regretting it more by the second,” I moan.

“Stop! You love it,” she says smugly, her eyes sparkling with delight. “And don’t worry, he’ll start loving you, too.”

I glance back at the screen, where Gio continues to stare at me with an intensity that could melt steel—or summon demons. I can’t decide which.

“I don’t want him to love me,” I whisper, not wanting the dog to hear me.

“Too late,” she says with a soft laugh, scratching the dog’s bony back. “You’re part of the family now. Gio adopts people whether they like it or not.”

Her laugh is so… cute.

So fucking adorable and delightful and contagious I find myself joining in, the tension from earlier fading completely. For a moment, it’s just us, trading jabs and laughter like we’ve been doing this forever.

“Admit it; you’re just jealous Gio is better looking than you. ”

I gape at her, utterly aghast. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she says, wiping her eyes. “It’s like you’ve never seen a Chinese Crested before.”

“I’ve seen pictures. They burned my eyes.”

Austin scowls. “You are officially uninvited to our house.”

“I was never planning to visit!” I volley back, though we both know that’s not true. I am totally planning on visiting …

She smirks, tilting her head like she’s daring me to take it back. “We’ll see about that.”

The thought of stepping into her house and coming face-to-face with that dog sends a shiver down my spine—but not enough to keep me from wanting to see her again.

In person.

Somehow, her ridiculous humor, paired with her obvious affection for her creepy little pet, only makes her more endearing.

Funny – check.

Sexy – check.

Has her own career – check.

Quirky in all the best ways – check, checkity, check, check.

I lean back into the couch, staring at her through the screen as she scratches The Other Gio behind his mangy ears, her laughter softening into a smile that’s way too distracting for my own good. My thoughts start to stray, and before I can stop myself, a horrifying scenario pops into my head: Shit. What if we get to the point where we’re having sex and The Other Gio is on the bed?

The image is so vivid, so disturbing I actually grimace.

My shoulders shudder involuntarily, and Austin catches it immediately.

“What was that?” she asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What’s going on in that overactive brain of yours?”

She already knows me so well.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Absolutely nothing. ”

Her brow furrows, and she leans closer to the camera, like she’s trying to read my mind through the screen.

“Liar. What are you thinking about?”

You.

Me.

Sex.

The dog.

“Nothing important,” I insist, though the thought is stuck in my head and I know it’s going to haunt me for days.

“Bullshit,” she says, grinning as she props her chin on her hand.

“Come on, spill. Is it about Gio? Because if you’re still obsessing over him, I think you owe him an apology.”

My lips clamp shut.

Lips open. A gust of word vomit spews from my mouth, “ If he ever sets foot on a bed I’m in, I’m leaving. No questions asked .”

“Oh. My. God, ” she whispers, her voice dripping with amusement. “Are you imagining him watching us do it?”

“No,” I lie, far too quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“You totally are!” she exclaims, bursting into laughter. “You’re picturing us having sex with the dog on the bed!”

I shake my head but it’s pointless.

The damage is done.

It’s official: she can read my mind.

“I am not picturing that,” I argue weakly, my face hot enough to fry an egg. “And please stop laughing.”

My bruised ego can’t take it anymore.

“And let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “We haven’t even been on a date yet, so we can’t be having sex on your bed.”

That finally slows her laughter, though her grin stays firmly in place.

“Are you already planning the logistics of our future?”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?” Please? I’m begging .

“Fine, we can change the subject,” Austin allows, tilting her head like she’s thinking it over. “But only because I’m generous.”

“Generous,” I repeat, deadpan. “That’s definitely the word I’d use.”

She ignores my sarcasm, adjusting herself on her bed and pushing her hair over one shoulder in a way that feels completely unintentional—yet I have a feeling it’s not. She’s sitting this way because she knows she looks hot.

And I get a clearer shot of her tits in that white tank top she has on.

“Okay, new topic: when are you taking me on this date you mentioned?”

I perk up.

This is exactly where I was hoping this conversation would lead when I called.

My mind immediately kicks into overdrive, sorting through possibilities—places, times, ways to impress her without coming off like I’m trying too hard. Casual, but not too casual. Fun, but not circus-level chaotic.

Romantic, but not painfully so.

“Depends.” I keep my tone light. Chill vibes only. “What kind of date we talkin’ about? A movie? Something more adventurous, like a tour of Area 51 so Gio can visit his cousins?”

She snorts, covering her mouth with her hand, but it’s no use—she thinks I’m hilarious. “Keep it up and Gio and I will go on the date without you.”

Keep up that sassy talk.

“Threats. I like it.” I like it a lot. “ Rock climbing? Bounce house? Or dinner and drinks on a rooftop bar with a killer view—you know, so you can get all dressed up?”

Show off the boobs, maybe?

Her lips curve into a sly smile, and she props her chin on her hand. “What makes you think I even own heels?”

Such a brat.

“Oh, you own them,” I say confidently, leaning forward like I can somehow close the distance between us through the screen. “And you’re already planning which ones to wear.”

She rolls her eyes.

“And what if I don’t?”

Silly girl. She should know better than to try and verbally spar with me.

“Something tells me you’d hate missing the chance to knock me out with how good you look.” I pause. “You’re dying to try and eat me alive.”

Eat me alive .

Please do.