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“Yes, coach. It won’t happen again.” It’s going to be the last time because tonight I will have my princess again.

“See that it doesn’t. Change, and tomorrow, I want you to get your head back in the game. You wanna win or cry in the corner?”

“Win, Coach.”

Brandon wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Sorry, Coach. I will take care of our little Bash. here.”

“Just go.” The coach scribbles on his notepad, walking off the field.

“Guess she still didn’t write, huh?” Brandon nudges my shoulder as we walk back to the locker room.

Yeah. No. She didn’t.

“Shut it, man.”

“Anyway, how about that party after the game this weekend? You’re in?” Brandon unstraps his helmet.

“It depends on whether I can convince someone to join.”

“Ah, the elusive Juliet? Good luck with that, Romeo.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.”

“Hey.” Brandon pauses in the act of tugging on his shirt. “You know I’ve got your back, right? If you need any help, just say the word. I’m the best wingman. The ladies fall for me left and right.”

I laugh at his cocky boast. “Yeah, keep dreaming.”

“So we go home and eat?”

“Nope, I have to do something.”

“You know the breaking in and stuff is not an option, right?”

My phone buzzes.

Connor: Lil is at the library. Looks like she’s settled in for the long haul.

Connor: Alone.

The corners of my mouth lift as I read the message. Lil immersed in her books, as always. The image is endearingly familiar. Seems like my lucky day.

“Change of plans. I’ve got a study date.”

“You? Study?” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. I get it. With your girl? How’d you manage that?”

“I didn’t. But Connor says she’s at the library. I’m going to surprise her.”

“The stalker did it again. An ambush disguised as a romantic gesture. The name Romeo really fits you.”

“Shut up.” I shove my phone in my pocket, trying to play it cool.

“You know. She’s probably hungry,” he says.

I know what he’s hinting at. “Would you?” Brandon is the best cook I know. My mouth waters at the thought, and Lil’s would, too.

“For my best friend and his future wife? Of course.” Brandon claps me on the shoulder. “Some of my famous Pad Thai, perhaps?”

“But I’ll cook it.” I want to be the one who puts the look on her face.

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