Page 109 of These Pucking Boys

“See? You were worrying about nothing. What did they say?”

I turn my phone so she can see for herself all the emojis and cute stickers they used. Katrina laughs. “Boys.”

“This probably means they didn’t take my oops text seriously, right?”

She switches her attention to her plate and creates a perfect bite of salad with her fork. “Obviously. It was clearly a case of fat thumb.”

“Yeah. I should reply.” I stare at my phone, biting my lower lip. When nothing witty comes to mind, I glance at Katrina. “What should I say?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem to have a thing for food. Talk about that.”

I frown. “It always ends up becoming dirty.”

She smirks. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I shake my head. “You’re such a bad influence.”

She presses her hand against her chest. “I’m a bad influence? Says the girl getting railed by three hunky hockey players.”

Ignoring her theatrics, I type a reply.

I want to bake you my favorite dessert when you come back.

LACHY: Oh, what is it?

It’ll be a surprise.

JAKE: I love surprises, and from you, even better.

I smile, forgetting that Katrina is sitting across from me and watching me like a hawk.

“Aww, look at that face. You’re so far gone for those boys, June.”

I look up. “I know. And it terrifies me.”

Jake and Lachy stopped messaging me after lunch. They were probably getting ready for their game tonight. But Ryan texted me a few times, first to give me an update on the pets—he volunteered to check on them, since he was bored. And then to invite me to watch the Titans game with him.

The game is early, so I don’t have much time to get ready. I jump into the shower, make sure all the pets are good, and as I’m about to walk out of the apartment, I text him.

I’m coming over now. I’m bringing snacks.

Hey, something came up. Rain check?

I stop in my tracks and stare at my phone, waiting for him to say he’s joking. But when no follow up text follows, my stomach dips. I’m disappointed, but I’m a bit worried too.

Is everything okay?

Yep. Talk tomorrow.

Wow, that was cold. A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes prickle. I’m so confused. Did I freak him out with that accidental I-love-you sticker? No, that doesn’t make any sense. All his messages afterward were normal. I have no idea what to think, but I can’t remain rooted to the floor.

I turn around and put the bags with the snacks back on the counter. My first instinct is to call Katrina, but I know how busy it is at her house at this hour with four kids. I open the fridge and take out the bottle of white wine I bought the other day. As much as I want to watch the game, I need a moment to deal with the sadness swirling in my chest. It’s crazy that a cold text from Ryan affects me this much. Maybe it’s my hormones. I always get mopey during my period.

I fill the wine glass to the brim, grab the bag of potato chips, and head to the balcony. The weather is still nice. Mrs. Carpenter’s balcony isn’t as large as the one the boys have, but it’s big enough to fit Humberto’s little haven. Tortoises fare better outdoors.

The tension leaves me as the wine spreads through my body, but the sadness doesn’t go away. I go back inside only when it starts to get chilly. I left my phone on the kitchen counter and, unable to control myself, I check to see if Ryan messaged me again.

He didn’t.

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