Page 23 of Wrong Score

"Okay, fine," she says, snuggling back into her spot, and then grabs a handful of popcorn and throws it at me.

"Real mature,” I mutter

I scoop as many pieces as I can before Sherlock gets too many but he's already eaten several pieces. It's the light butter version but he still shouldn't have too much. If he gets sick from eating the popcorn, Hans won't ever let me puppy-sit again. I'm on a thin line with that man.

"You at least owe me a breakdown of your trip. Tell me everything."

I snort, reaching over to steal a handful of popcorn. "Okay, something did happen."

Jordan sits up straighter, nearly dumping the popcorn bowl, as she reaches for the remote to mute the TV. "Spill. Now. And you’d better tell me that you played tonsil hockey with the coach."

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for my sister to lose her shit. "Not quite. Wealmostkissed."

The popcorn Jordan was about to eat falls from her hand, scattering across the blanket. "I'm sorry, what? How did youalmostkiss? Did you miss?” she asks with a scrunched up nose as if that would be absolutely mortifying… and she’s right, it would.

“No I didn't miss,” I snap, irritation flaring as her first conclusion was that I somehow botched a simple kiss with the six-foot-two giant.

“What?” she says, defending her question with a shrug, piled another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “He’s a pretty large target and you’re a little out of practice. Maybe you need to work on improving your aim.”

“My aim is just fine, that wasn’t the problem, thank you very much,” I say, pulling my blanket higher up my stomach.

“And why in the hell didn't you think to tell me about this until now?" Her eyebrows furrow.

"When would you have preferred, I told you?"

"Theminuteit happened, duh!"

Of course she would have.

"While in mid-air? You're not supposed to make phone calls while on an aircraft. It could do something to the plane."

She waves her hand in dismissal. "Psht, that's a myth. And even if it weren't a myth, you should have risked it," she says, her eyebrows down turning in annoyance with me.

She actually expected me to run to my phone the moment that Bex almost kissed me.

To be honest, it took a while to process the whole thing, and I'm still not sure that I understand why there was even an almost.

"Well, I'm telling you now. And besides nothing happened, and anyway, I’ve been a little too busy trying not to get fired."

"What do you mean fired? You’re one of the best sports reporters thatThe Seattle Sunrisehas."

I groan at the thought of what I have to do to keep being the best sports reporter there in order to get the promotion. "Charles wants an exclusive with Bex and there’s no way that Bex is going to sit down with me. He already thinks I’d be willing to sell out my own grandmother for enough new subscribers to the newspaper."

Jordan's expression softens. "That’s because he doesn’t know you the way I do. Plus, if he knew Grandma Charlene, he wouldn’t put it past you. She’s a cranky old witch." Jordan is teasing. Our grandma isn’t all that bad, she just spends most of our visit still cursing out my father, as if that helps mend anything for Jordan or me.

“Yeah well, go down to the Hawkeyes stadium and put in a good word for me because he won’t believe it if in comes from me,” I sigh, absently stroking Sherlock's fur.

"With pleasure,” she winks.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t even start, you’ll only make it worse trying to come onto him. He'll just think that I'm prostituting out my sister for a promotion, which is exactly the sort of thing he thinks I'd do," I shake my head. "I just don’t know what to do at this point. My job depends on it.” I let out a defeated sigh.

“You know what you have to do. You have to go down there and face him on his terms. Don’t take no for an answer and find some common ground with him.”

I hate that she’s right. I really wish there was another way to get him to open up.

“Face him on his terms,” I repeat, mulling it over.

“Yeah, like what is he doing right now do you think?”

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