Page 18 of Full Court Love
Well, he’s going to be more than pleased—if he ever wakes up. A few minutes pass with no new messages. I guess these girls have said all they needed to say. I just hope the one girl I really care about is happy about my invitation. I sip my coffee and consider what to make. Then my phone pings again.
This is Lucy again. I’m so sorry about that! You definitely
do not have to come if you don’t want to. My roommates
are insane. Again, don’t feel obligated.
I can’t tell if she’s just embarrassed about her roommates, or if something about our interaction made her want to push me away. But after last night, I just want more of her.
I can’t wait.
As I set my phone down, pulse picking up at the thought of seeing Lucy later today, Tyler stumbles out of his room looking like the walking dead. Normally a very put-together guy, his sandy hair is sticking out in every direction, his shirt is on inside out, and he’s only wearing one sock.
Wordlessly, I pour and hand him a cup of coffee. He plops down on a chair and proceeds to guzzle it like a sailor coming in from a day at the docks. After a few minutes and even more coffee, I decide it’s safe to speak.
“How did your evening end up?”
He stares off into space and mumbles something incoherent. I decide to pretend I heard him.
“Awesome. Well, we might need to head to the store for some ingredients. Like, soon.”
I guess this innocuous statement snaps him out of his hungover stupor. He groans and turns to stare at me.
“Did you enter us in a cooking competition? Dude, no one is going to believe we’re brothers, and I refuse to pretend to be your lover. You’re not my type.”
I choke on my coffee. Who knew this guy could spit jokes when a minute ago he could barely speak?
“Excuse me—first of all, I would blow your mind. But sadly, no, that’s not the reason for the ingredients. We have beencordiallyinvited to–”
I pull out my phone and hold up the text.
It takes his eyes a good ten seconds to focus, and another twenty to actually read and internalize the messages. It’s obvious when it finally clicks because he springs up a little too quickly from his chair. Instantly recognizing the mistake, he sits back down and lays his head on the table. After some slow, deep breaths, he looks up at me without lifting his head.
“I know I just said you aren’t my type, but I might just come around.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and nod knowingly. “They all do, eventually.”
He sits up slowly, so as not to further anger his hangover. Rubbing his temples, he finally cracks a small smile. “But until I fully realize that, I think I’ll be going after someone else.”
“Britt.”
He narrows his eyes. “How’d you know that?”
I shrug. “I have a sixth sense about these things. And also, I saw you with her last night. But enough talk about girls. We need to head to the store and get cooking. Which is somethingI’m terrible at, so I definitely need extra time to make some fatal mistakes and restart.”
Clearly relieved at the change of topic, he nods and reaches for his shoes. I catch one whiff of him and shove him toward the bathroom.
“You know what, I think we have ten minutes to spare for you to wash off the stench of fifteen whiskey shots. After all, if you and I are ever going to make our cooking show dreams a reality, I need you smelling your best.” I duck as he throws a shoe at me. “Also, I bet Britt would appreciate it.”
He grumbles and throws the other shoe at me before shutting the bathroom door. Smiling into my coffee cup, I realize that something is already different here.
I’m actually building real friendships. With every bridge my dad burned, I lost hope that that would ever happen again. He would so often berate my teammates for not being willing to stick around for me. I couldn’t even blame them. He only ever saw dollar signs and viewed my teammates as barriers to getting that money.
My phone pings with a new message from the old man himself. Speak of the devil.
Hey. Keep me posted on any potential partnership deals.
Want to make sure we are maximizing what you can get.