Page 18 of How to Lose at Love

“I was kiddin’.”

“I know.” He laughs. “Just think about it. And you’re going to hate hearing this since I know your views on relationships while you’re in the middle of a season, but it wouldn’t hurt you to be seen with a responsible young woman.”

I can’t help it—I let out a loud, gut-busting laugh before I can stop myself. Eli is being serious, and that’s funnier than any shit I’ve heard this week. “A responsible young woman? Why the hell would I want to do that?”

“I meant…stay away from party girls or young women who only want to be influencers.”

“That’ll be easy enough since I don’t intend on findin’ anyone to date, period.” End of story.

Eli shuffles some papers around on his desk. “Listen, I’m not going to go too hard on the subject, but I want you to give it some serious thought. I’ll probably circle back around on it next week.”

I tilt my head back and squint up at the ceiling. “What am I supposed to be giving a serious thought to?” I scratch my head so I appear more dense.

My agent rolls his eyes.

The agent my brother insisted I meet.

The agent my brother insisted I consider signing.

So I did.

I signed with the most cut-throat, successful sports agent in the United States, possibly even the world. A man who represents the world’s best up-and-coming athletes. Tennis players, wrestlers, skiers, snowboarders. Football and baseball players. Soccer. Sailing.

He represents them all, and he’s damn good at it.

And now he’s telling me I need to be seen in public with a respectable girl?

“I don’t know any.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know any respectable girls.”

Eli laughs. “What the hell does that mean? Don’t tell me you’ve slept with half the female population on campus.” He wipes a hand down his face.

“That’s not what I meant. I just meant…I don’t hang out anywhere.” I don’t party, either. I rarely drink. I live with my brothers, spend time with my brothers, watch movies in my free time—the classics they only show at the little theater in town, across from ROSCOE + MIMI.

“What do you mean youdon’t hang out anywhere?” He repeats my words, confusion etched on his brow.

I shrug. “I don’t like going out.” Simple as that, and it’s not like it’s a crime.

“And you don’t know a single female?”

My mind strays to the girls who live in the house next door, three of them who behave like stray cats in heat, showing up without warning, without an invitation. Dressed up, tits out.

They deserve an A for effort but won’t be trapping none of the Colter boys—not if I can help it.

“Just the girls next door.”

Eli’s brows go up. “Girls next door? Like the Playboy Bunnies?”

I guess so. They don’t tend to wear many clothes when they invite themselves over. “Kind of.”

His head hits his desk as he groans. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I can’t help it if the house we live in is surrounded by single young women. We’re in a college town.”

“But you’re not dating any of them? Or sleeping with any of them?”

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