Page 36 of Playing Games

My stomach flips, and I steady my breathing against an onslaught of nerves. “Hey, Ace, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he says, which immediately seals my mouth shut with glue.

I appreciate the heads-up, and when he winks, I know he’s done it on purpose.

“Yeah, yeah. Shh, it’s okay. I’ll hug you later and you’ll feel better.” He laughs so loudly it startles me, and then he rolls his eyes. “Aw, poor baby. I’m sure you’ll find someone to hang with tonight.”

He shakes his head, stepping aside and waving me into the apartment. When I clear the threshold, he shuts the door behind me and locks it.

“Go over to Julia’s, then. She always lets you cry on her shoulder.” He snorts. “Then you should have gone to the Hamptons with her. Don’t even try to tell me she didn’t invite you.” He laughs. “Yep. That’s what I thought.” He shakes his head back and forth and mimes constant blabbing with his hand. “Okay, buddy. Just take a nice warm bath, then. We’ll talk later.”

He pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up, even though I can still hear the shrouded sound of Ace’s complaints on the other end. When I’m sure the call is over, I allow myself to laugh. “He’s a character.”

“I was going to sayyou have no idea, but I guess that’s stupid since you grew up around him, huh?”

I nod. “Some ridiculousnesses are hereditary. For Ace, that’s one hundred percent true. Both his parents are nutcases. If we could get them to a certified psychiatrist, I’m positive there’d be a diagnosis and commitment to a padded room.”

“So I’ve heard,” Blake agrees, clearing off his duffel bag from his cornflower-blue couch and ushering me to come sit down. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked me why I’m here yet, and it’s throwingme off a little. When I rehearsed this in my head, he started with that question.

When I struggle to get started talking, I end up using my scripted answer even though he hasn’t asked the question. “I thought I’d try my hand at popping in on you like you have a habit of doing to me.”

He smiles. “Great. I love the spontaneity.”

I lick my lips. I wish I could say I’m as convinced.

“So…what are you up to?”

Ugh. Why do I have to make everything sound so cringeworthy?

“Just relaxing. Practice was a double today, so I iced my calves and took a shower and was just trying to decide what to order for dinner. Did you eat yet?”

“Eat?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “Food. Dinner, as it were.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t eat dinner.”

“Cool. Then I can get us both something. Any idea what you’re in the mood for?”

This feels like the perfect opportunity to add in some kind of innuendo-laden suggestion about his penis, but I’m completely out of my depth.How do other women manage to make it sound so natural when they do it?

I cough and clear my throat, clenching my fists and steadying my anxiety the best I can. I came here to do something specific, andnow that I’m here, I’mgoingto do it. “Actually, yes. I was…well, I was thinking I’d like more of what we had last night.”

“Chinese? Okay. Did you want more lo mein and chicken or something else?”

“N-no. I meant…more of something else.”

“The shrimp? Because they were pretty good too.” He searches the coffee table, through a pile of takeout menus, sifting to find the one for the Chinese place, his phone already in hand.

It takes everything inside me, but somehow, I manage to reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him. “No… I… Well, I meant the kiss.”

“Oh.” His face transforms, lifting into a giant smile I just know is full of every egotistical thought on the planet. And still, I find it attractive. Go figure.

“I…well. I thought maybe we could do it a little more.” I shrug. “Just to…see.”

“To research?” he asks, repeating my word from the night of our first kiss.

I nod.

“Okay. And what exactly did you have in mind?”

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