Page 15 of Laugh

Marcus: … God no.

Me: I know…

Marcus: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!??!?!

I look skyward and groan. Beau’s footsteps are hurriedly approaching from behind me, and I need Marcus to give me what I neednow.

Me: MARCUS. NOW. Help me.

Marcus: Okay okay okay… Hear me out. You are who you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I love you so SO SO SO SO SO…

Me: Marcus…

Marcus: SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH. Take a minute and remind yourself that you’re a professional woman and you’re damn good at your job. All you need to do is take a slow breath before you actually open your trap and spew forth the filth that pops into your head. Your brain moves too quickly. This way, it’ll give the other fifty thoughts that are a little slower to emerge to have a fighting chance.

Me: I love you more than squirrels love nuts.

Marcus: I love you more than pimps love canes.

Snorting out a laugh, I let my shoulders drop from where they were pressed against my ears in embarrassment. Fucking Marcus.

“What’s so funny?” Beau’s rumbling voice asks from my side.

I sigh, knowing that my time is up and I need to pull up my big girl panties and act like a normal,functioninghuman being. Opening my mouth to respond with ‘squirrel nuts’, I freeze.Christ, Marcus is right.

With a slow intake of breath and a rapid flick of my eyes to the side to see him staring down at me with poorly tempered impatience, I blow my air out noisily.Wow. Look at all those pretty normal thoughts drifting in behind teeny tiny nuts.

“I just read a text message from my best friend and he said something funny.” Professional, not weird, and normal. I’m proud of that response.

If it’s possible, Beau’s face turns even more sour than a moment ago. “What’s wrong with you?”

I stumble over my feet, blasted by the hurt that strikes against me with his question. It’s my family’s favorite question to toss around whenever I interject in family dinner talk.

Beau’s hand, which is annoyingly warm and firm, grasps my elbow to prevent me from face planting into the steps in front of us. He jerks me back and my body slams into his, my face hitting his chest andfuck!My fucking nose.

“God, you’re so hard!” I complain, rubbing it, but stop when the brick house of a man in front of me bursts out laughing. My body is still up against his, so the vibration of his chest rattles through me the way I imagine one of those alpha wolves from my books would purr.

The sound rolls through his body, and I can’t stop the hand holding my throbbing nose from reaching out and laying against him to feel the rumble. “Wow,” I whisper, and jerk it back when he abruptly stops at the sound of my voice, pressing my hand against my own chest now.

My eyes find Beau’s face and I’m embarrassed to see that he’s staring at my hand where it lays over my heart. His brows are furrowed, and he seems flustered by whatever thoughts are coming to the surface.Welcome to my world, Captain.

Clearing my throat, I force out a stilted laugh. “Sooo, sorry about that! Yeah, your pectorals are pretty firm there, Captain. About broke my nose!”

I fist my hands next to my sides and bounce them off the sides of my thighs as I look around at anything but him. Whistling feels like a thing Iwantto do right now, but I refrain from making this any more awkward.

“You going to be okay? Because we really need to get in there. The boys should already be working.” I’m not sure if he’s just going to ignore everything that’s happened in the past half an hour, but I appreciate his attempt to move us on from this atrocious interaction.

Scratching my nose, I wrinkle it when I feel a small twinge from my recent injury, then give him my best attempt at a ‘let’s pretend I’m not psycho’ smile. “Sure, Cap. Thanks for catching me.”

Spinning on my heel, I jog up the stairs to the entrance of the library, not waiting for him to respond. At this point, I’d prefer to continue the afternoon with minimal conversation between the two of us. It’ll save me from further embarrassment and more questions about ‘what’s wrong with me’.

Beau beats me to the door and holds it open for me to go through first. Mumbling a soft thanks, I skirt through the door and find his players sitting at one of the tables against the far wall. At least I know I can handle a few football players.

Weaving between the tables, my phone buzzes. The quick exchange shared with Marcus has me snorting out loudly, and I wave off an apology to the students I distracted.

Marcus: Soo… plotted out a new book? Gimme details.

Me: Yellow Volvo and a stop sign.

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