Page 93 of Penalty Shot

“It’s not more nosy than creating her dating profiles.”

“Gah, I know! Fuck, is that why she never told me? Because she thinks I’m a hetero-normative ignoramus?”

“Regular English, please.”

“What ifmeinsisting that she do her dating profiles made it harder for her to admit she’s bisexual? Oh my god, I’m the worst!”

“You are not the worst. Give her time. She’ll tell you when she’s ready. But stay out of the dating sites.” His voice lowers to a growl. “Forever.”

“I know, I know. Stay out of other people’s love life. But it would be kind of awesome, right?”

“They would make an amazing couple,” Randall agrees.

“They would,” I gush, feeling the prickling of warm tears behind my eyes. “All these years they were best friends and now…”

“And now it could be more.”

“I love that for them.” I pine at the possibility. After wanting Ma to find true love again, I’m ecstatic that her person was here all along.

“Me too. I can speak from experience,” Randall states confidently. “Having my best friend as my girlfriend is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I’ve never flown first class,” I whisper in Randall’s ear after the flight attendant offered to get us champagne.

He holds my purse while I take the window seat and whacks his head on the overhead storage as he slides in. “Shit, it’s actually less room than the team plane.”

I roll my eyes. “Hockey player problems.” I turn to him and give his forehead a little kiss. “All better now?”

He grumbles. “I’d feel better if you sat on my lap.” His words direct my eyesight downward as Randall pulls at his jeans to adjust himself.

“You sure you want to be thinking about me on your lap right now, Haughland?” I tease. Riling him up is my new favorite pastime.

When we’re handed our drinks, Randall addresses the friendly attendant. “Would you mind bringing my girlfriend a blanket please? She gets cold so easily.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“When you introduce me to your friends and family, will I be known as your girlfriend, or will you sometimes use my name?”

“I use your name,” he says with furrowed brows.

“Sure, you do.”

“Girlfriendrolls off the tongue,” he says with a grin. “I like the sound of it.”

“I like it, too,” I admit.

I shift in my seat, crossing my ankle and uncrossing it, the hem of my dress lifting to reveal half my thigh. It’s one of those shirt-like designs with a crisp collar and a row of buttonsrunning down the front. However, instead of ending at the hips like a man’s shirt, it falls just above the knees. To accentuate the waist and create a flattering shape, the dress is gently cinched at the waist with a sash.

Randall playfully tugs at the sash before casually placing his hand on my knee. It’s only when he massages my kneecap that I realize I’ve been bobbing my leg up and down.

“Are you nervous?”

“I don’t fly much so I’m…excited.”

“Now I really want you on my lap.”

I play-shove him, happy to be distracted by the flirting because I do get antsy during plane rides.

Two pillows and blankets arrive, and Randall distracts me by tucking us under the surprisingly soft fabric. After preliminary announcements, I look out the window at the stretch of runway. My heart races as the engine roars to an ascent.