Page 23 of Fair Catch

“No, no. When they call for a fair catch on the field, it means the other team can’t hit them when they’re—”

I hold up a hand between us, stopping him in his tracks. “I know you pissed me off a few times since moving in, but I don’t believe in solving issues with violence. I’m a pacifist.”

“Oh, my God,” he grumbles, giving me an exasperated laugh. “I wasn’t gonna hit you, I’m trying—”

“To call a truce. I know.”

He looks at me, that emerald stare searching my face while he processes what I said. Then they widen dramatically, and his jaw drops open ever so slightly.

“Are you cracking a joke right now?” When I can’t hide my smirk, he points at my face and starts laughing. “Holy shit, and here I thought you didn’t have a sense of humor at all.”

“Yeah, well,” I murmur, lifting my shoulder in a shrug. “Now, you know.”

“Okay, noted. But the first rule of this truce? Stop interrupting me every time I try to talk.”

I nod a couple of times, as if I’m mulling it over, before letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “I hate to say this, Kase, but I think you’ve hit my hard limit.”

I catch Kason rolling his eyes in the faint glow from the television, clearly starting to get a hang for my brand of dry humor and sarcasm. “Let me guess, you wanna enact a safe word when I touch on those?”

“Oh, kinky Kason,” I muse, full-on smiling now as I waggle my eyebrows suggestively. “That’s a side of you I wasn’t expecting to know about.”

A tinge of pink crawls up his neck, spreading onto his face that’s visible even in the dim light, and I have to admit, embarrassed Kason is kind of adorable. In a dopey puppy dog kind of way.

“Is there anything else?” I ask, choosing to take a small amount of pity on the guy by changing the subject.

“If the bathroom is occupied, the other needs to wait their turn. Even if the door is unlocked,” he says pointedly.

“Or you could just lock the door,” I supply. “Then this entire rule would be moot.”

“You have a smartass comment for everything, don’t you?”

“An unfortunate habit I picked up from Quinton over the years. But yes, I can agree to your bathroom terms.” I take a deep breath, the next words spilling free without my permission. “And…I apologize if I made you uncomfortable the other morning.”

“Youdoknow how to apologize,” he murmurs, brows lifting in surprise.

“Now who’s being the smartass?”

Smiling, he nods. “Is there anything you’d like to add to this agreement?”

Not needing him to ask twice, I immediately blurb, “For the love of all things holy, can you pre-blend your stupid protein shakes the night before? Soundproofing only does so much to hide that god-awful sound at six in the morning.”

“You actually sound-proofed your room?”

“There’s one thing I don’t joke about, and it’s sleep.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I mutter, “That’s definitely one area where you and Q do have a little bit in common.”

This time, he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as he laughs. “Okay, no blenders before eight o’clock. Got it. Anything else?”

I let out a low hum, the stolen food thing coming to mind. But more than anything, I find myself intrigued by his idea now that the annoyance has passed. “We can try this weird leftover thing you used to do. Just make sure I actually respond to you before you go taking it. I might be a delight to be around most of the time, but the exception is when I’m hangry.”

“I’m not touching that comment with a ten-foot pole.” He laughs, and I honestly think this is the most I’ve ever heard it.

It’s kinda nice.

“Thanks for the spaghetti, by the way. The homemade sauce was…” Shaking his head, he sighs. “I might dream about that for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t take credit, it’s my great aunt’s recipe.”

“You tell her she can adopt me into the family any day, ‘cause I love to cook.”

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