Page 26 of The Goal

I chew on my roll as I text them back.

Me: A) You both get free legal services for life. B) Let’s celebrate tomorrow. I promise to order enough to make your credit card weep.

Hope: Not possible! I’m making reservations for Santino’s.

Carin: That place needs reservations?!

Hope: I dunno! Figure of speech. But we could go to Malone’s again if you want celebratory sex.

Me: I still have the number from the guy from last Saturday. What about you? Your lady garden get a private tour last night?

The two of them had gone out without me to a party at Beau Maxwell’s house. I wonder if Tucker was there. And if so, I wonder who he took to his truck this time. The thought of him running his big, callused hands over some other girl’s breasts makes me grit my teeth in envy, but I don’t have the right to be jealous. I blocked his number, after all. I told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t interested in going out with him.

So why did you unblock him, hmmm?

The taunting voice in my head has me biting my lip. Fine, so I unblocked his number. But that wasn’t because I want to go out with him or anything. I just figured it might be handy to have in case of…an emergency.

God, I’m so pathetic.

My phone dings, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Carin: No. I was an angel.

Hope: Liar! OMG, what a liar. She came downstairs with sex hair bigger than Cher. Text her a picture of your neck. Right now or I’ll do it.

Carin: Fine. I hate you.

Sometimes I do wish I lived with them. I gobble up more pasta as I wait for the picture from Carin. When the image comes through, I nearly choke on a noodle.

Me: Did you make out with teen wolf last night?

Carin: No. Brad Allen.

I search my memory banks and come up with a six-foot, four-inch guy with a round, sweet face.

Me: Defensive lineman? He looks like a cherub!

Carin: Yup. Turns out he has a sucking fetish. Good thing it’s cold out because tank tops would be out of the question.

Me: Other than him trying to actually suck the blood through your chesticles, did you enjoy him?

Carin: It wasn’t bad. He knew how to use his equipment.

Me: Ha! My athlete theory is holding strong!

Hope: Between Tucker and Brad Allen, it appears B’s hypothesis is accurate.

Carin: You both know that’s not how the scientific method works, right?

Me: Yup, but we don’t care.

Hope: Does that mean Tucker is getting a repeat?

Me: Doubtful. He’s good, but when do I have the time?

We text for a few more minutes, but my spike of adrenaline is wearing off. I set my partially finished plate on my nightstand and hug the Harvard letter to my chest. It’s all happening. All the good things I’ve worked so hard for are coming to fruition. Nothing can stop me now.

I fall asleep with a big, happy smile on my face.

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