Page 126 of How to Lose at Love

“Mom, I just woke up. Can I have some coffee and call you back?”

“You told me you were in the shower.”

Dammit. I hate when she does this, as if she were a freaking private detective putting pieces of a mystery together. Except this isn’t a mystery—this is my personal life! And I still have no idea what she’s talking about.

I mean, I know what she’s talking about.

I haven’t seenwith my own eyeswhat she’s talking about, but as soon as Dallas is out of the shower, I’m ready to pounce.

thirty

dallas

“Do you ever want to cuddle with your girlfriend and realize you don’t have one?”

– Drew Colter

Why isRyann looking at me as if I just did her dirty?

Was fucking three times last night not enough? Do I need to fuck her once more before I bounce?

Seated on the couch, she’s been patiently waiting for me to put my clothes back on—the T-shirt and joggers I had on yesterday nice and dry from the dryer.

Not clean, but dry.

Anywho, I pause en route to her bedroom so I can riffle around for my socks, which have gone missing in action somehow.

“What?”

She crosses her arms.

“Did I do something?” Best to get the question out of the way since it’s obvious I have indeed done something to earn this ire, but I’m not dumb enough to ask something stupid like,Why do you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios?

“Have you seen the news?”

No, I haven’t seen the news, although my phone has been blowing up all morning, most of the messages from my teammates and my brothers, who are wondering where I am and why I never came home last night.

“No.”

Hey, it’s not a lie. I haven’t seen the coverage, but I know damn well what she’s referring to: our picture being blasted all over the national news.

“I thought they were going to put a cute picture of me on the big screen at the stadium and that would be the end of it. That’s what you told me was going to happen.”

I shrug. “What do you want me to do?”

Her eyes almost bug out of her head as she stares at me. “Something!” Her arms go up. “Do you know how furious my parents are right now?”

I snort. “Oh, please. Who gives a shit? You’re twenty-one years old. Do you ask them permission to take a shit, too?”

Ryann’s mouth falls open.

Shuts.

Steam practically rises from her nose. “Of course I don’t ask their permission to take a shit, but a heads-up from me would have been great.” She stands. “Actually, a heads-up from you would have been great, too. Someone had to have known about this.”

“My agent arranged it.” I say it as casually as I can, the words sounding foreign to me and odd.My agent arranged it.

“I had to shut my phone off,” Ryann announces indignantly, as if having to do so is a violation of her constitutional rights.

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