Page 9 of From Fling to Ring

At least he knows my name.

“I was thinking it might be fun to do your interview thing over dinner sometime. What do you say?”

Huh?

Petal, Gilly, and I are silent. I mean, dead silent.

Where the fuck did that just come from?

I look at my friends, then to the crowd surrounding us to see if someone is punking me.

Ashton Kutcher, show your face.

“Um. What’s that, Tyler?”

A second ago I could barely get the guy’s attention.

Rake snorts. Does he know something?

“Lucy,” Petal says, leaning closer to me but speaking loudly enough for all of us to hear, “Tyler just asked you out to dinner,” she says like she’s talking to a toddler. “That’s known in some circles as a date.”

“Yeah, thanks, Petal. Super fucking helpful,” I say with a snort.

Oops. That might have been a bit too aggro. But in case I am being punked, I want everyone to know I don’t care. I’m cool with it. A hot guy can ask me out as a joke. No skin off my back. I’ll just keep smiling.

Even if I feel like dying on the inside.

“Thank you, Tyler. That’s very nice of you. However, it’s against company policy to socialize with an interview subject.”

Now it’s Petal’s turn to snort.

Tyler, unbothered, shrugs his shoulders. “No problem, Lucy. I’ll check on that interview thing and let you know.”

He and Rake are whisked away for some sort of group photo thing, and once again I hoist my backpack on my shoulder.

“You know, Lu, you don’t work for the freaking New York Times. You can go out with the guy,” Petal says.

“I know. But you know how I feel about jocks, at least hanging out with them. They’re so… bulky. Besides, they go for bimbos. Not girls like me. And that Tyler is a major fuckboy. Just look at him. He’s been scoping the crowd the whole time we were talking to him. If that’s not fucking rude, I don’t know what is.”

I watch him run his fingers through his dark, messy hair as he gathers with a bunch of his other teammates.

So. Vain.

Maybe I should ask him if he’d like to borrow my lip gloss.

“Lu, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re surrounded by jocks right now, and your best friend”—Petal pauses to point at herself with both hands—“is married to a one.”

Busted.

Gilly nods, which doesn’t help.

My hand flies to my chest as I attempt to get my big foot out of my big mouth. “Petal, you know I didn’t mean that. Of course, Rake is awesome. You know how I adore him. It’s just that, you know, having dinner with one is just not… my cup of tea.”

She side-eyes me, not letting me off the hook in spite of my attempted backpedal.

“Didn’t you say you were leaving?” she snips.

“Yeah. I’m outta here. And don’t be mad Petal. What I said was stupid. You’re not a bimbo. Seriously.”

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