Page 66 of The Romance Line
Max: Is there a question in there?
Everly: I can’t believe you took my panties.
Max: That’s still not a question.
Everly: Why did you take my panties?
Well, that answer is easy, so I give it to her.
Max: Because I wanted them.
“What is that?” Asher asks as he slides into the passenger seat of my car on the way to morning skate.
“What is what?”
He tips his chin toward me, peering at…my face. “Is that…asmileyou’re wearing?”
I scoff. “Fuck no.”
“Dude. I think you’re smiling,” he says as he buckles in.
“Watch it, Callahan,” I warn him as I pull into the light traffic on California Street.
“Did you find a lucky penny this morning? Wait. I bet you found a whole twenty in the dryer and now you’re gonna take us out to lunch?” He presses his hands together in mock prayer.
“You’re a cheap date. When was the last time you got lunch for one person for less than twenty bucks, let alone a crew?”
“So it was a hundo. Excellent. I suggest we get tacos. You, me, Bryant, and Falcon,” he says, then flashes me a grin.
I point at him before I turn at the light, like I’ve caught him in the act. “That on your pie hole? That’s a smile. Me? I don’t smile.”
“Right.” He lowers his voice to a faux whisper. “Your makeover is working. Admit it. This is Max 2.0.Watch as he helps little old ladies cross the street. Witness as he sings ‘Happy Birthday’ at the old folks’ home. Grab a seat in the front row as he knits blankets for puppies at the shelter.”
I growl again, then stab the button on the console. Thankfully, this time a new tune plays from Wesley’s “take-no-prisoners pre-game warm-up” playlist—an Arctic Monkeys tune. I crank the volume to full blast. “Do I Wanna Know” shuts up Asher for the rest of the short drive to the arena. I pull into the players’ lot next to Wesley, who’s getting out of his vehicle at the same time as we are.
Asher calls out to him, “Dude, Lambert is happy. You know what that means?”
I groan, shaking my head. Asher is a relentless shit-stirrer. He’s also unfairly emotionally astute, so I’ve got to be on my guard. For Everly’s sake, especially.
Wesley looks from me to Asher, as if he’s assessing us. “The aliens took him yesterday, so we need a new goalie for the game?”
“Exactly,” Asher says, then claps my shoulder. “Or dude got laid last night.”
I won’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “Did you see the Cougars picked up Martinez after all? Dude wasn’t a free agent for long,” I say, dangling baseball trade talk to distract him, like he’s Athena and I’m waving a fake bird toy in front of him. Maybe he won’t put two and two together about my good mood. Don’t need the scrutiny right now.
Asher shoots me a smug smile. “So I was right,” he says, and dammit. Heissmarter than a cat.
“Pretty sure you said you thought they’d lock him up,” I say, trying again since my poker face is tight.
Asher cocks his brow at me. “Nice try, Lambert.”
We head inside and down the corridor. Miles is a fewpaces ahead of us, so that’s as good a distraction as any. “Hey, Falcon,” I call out to the center.
He turns around, tips his chin toward us. “What’s up?”
“Question for you.”
“Sure.”