Page 93 of Offensive Plays

“Excuse me,” Kesley says from the floor. “But I’m still reeling from the fact that my best friend has been keeping this from me, for weeks.”

“So you and Fergie?” Izzy clarifies.

I decide to just come clean to everyone at once. “We met on a dating app.”

“BlindBang, to be specific,” Kesley adds.

“Yes…” I admit. “It was only supposed to be a weekend hookup,”

“So wait, you didn’t know it was him you were talking to?”

I shake my head. “Nope, not until we were going to meetup and I put the pieces together.”

“Him being a hockey player in Houston didn’t ring any bells for you?” Rina asks, placing the bags onto the counter.

“Um…no. That never came up. He told me he was a software developer.”

“What?” Kesley says, picking up the bag of Funyuns and popping one into her mouth, like she’s watching a movie play out.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, why would he say that?” Rina asks.

“Because he made the app,” Hicks says strolling past our gathered group shirtless and wearing only his swimming trunks. He opens the fridge and looks inside.

“How long have you been listening in?” Izzy asks him.

“Long enough,” he says over his shoulder.

“What do you mean he made the app?” I ask him.

“Fergie,” he says. “He made BlindBang.”

He’s so casual about it, bending down and sifting through the contents of the fridge.

The four of us say at the same time, “What?”

Hicks grabs a can of beer and closes the fridge turning to the four of us gathered around him.

“Ah, shit. I think that was 2018,” he mumbles to himself. “Fergie’s gonna kill me.”

“And I’m gonna kill Fergie,” I say, pushing past the forward to get to the sliding doors.

“Libby, wait,” Hicks calls out behind me.

But it’s too late.

“You made BlindBang?!” I scream out to the crowded pool area.

Michael’s head shoots over at me and he scrambles to his feet the moment he sees me.

“Libby…”

“I cannot believe you, Michael. How did I ever think this could work? I’m such an idiot.”

He reaches for me and I pull my arm away from him. “Libby, I can explain,” he says, following behind me.

Hicks is in front of us, arms up in surrender. “Sorry, dude. I forgot that was 2018.”