Page 66 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

He’s so big.

And large.

And handsome and commanding and oh my God, what is he doing here?

Before I can ask though, I hear Bear’s awed voice. “Oh my fucking God, he’s real, isn’t he? Riot fucking Rivera’s in our house. Can I touch him? Can I ask for his autograph?”

To which Forrest replies, “Stop acting like a fucking goof. And don’t you put your filthy hands on him.”

Cy’s the next to go. “All I’m going to say is that I want him on the other side of the pod when I go onLove is Blind.”

“Can you all shut up? Stop using the F word, Bear and Forrest. Meadow won’t be happy. And Cy, you’re not going on a dating show. They are fake and stupid. Plus that defeats the whole purpose ofLove is Blind,” Amy says sternly.

All through this I keep my eyes pinned on Riot and so I catch his lips twitching at the silliness that’s my siblings. I jerk up from the bed and call out, “All four of you, go away. Right now.” I hear grumbles and shuffling of feet. “And Amy? You’re in charge.”

“Okay, M. Let us know if you need anything.”

When I know they’ve left, he says, “I think it’s been more than five seconds, don’t you?”

I swallow. “What are you doing here?”

At this, he steps in and closes the door behind him, and I have to take a step back even though he’s nowhere near me. Then, “Your siblings are nice.”

“They’re annoying.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be siblings if they weren’t.”

“What…” I try to even out my breaths. “Is Sophie okay?”

“She’s with Cami.”

“Oh, okay. I thought something happened to her.”

I wipe my hands down my thighs, realizing that they are partially bare because I’m wearing my big comfy t-shirt that I usually wear when I’m on my period. Yikes.

His eyes drop down to my thighs as if he’s just realized the state of my dress — or undress — like me. Then, lifting his gaze, he says, “Nothing’s happened to her. She’s fine.”

“Right. Okay.” I clear my throat. “So then, I’m not… I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “You left.”

“Oh, yeah. I…”

I don’t know what to say. Which is stupid because I should’ve thought of an excuse. I didn’t just leave his house, I left in the middle of my job. But I was so eager to get out of there and I hardly got a chance to draw a breath when I came back home that I didn’t have the time to think of an acceptable reason to cut out early.

“You?”

“I have a headache,” I blurt out.

Okay, that’s acceptable, right?

People get headaches all the time. I don’t, not usually, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“A headache,” he repeats.

“Yes.”

“How bad is it?”

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