Page 26 of How to Score Off Field

Standing over my carry-on suitcase, I debate which clothes to put on.

Shit, I have nothing since I only brought clothes for the main event. I didn’t even bring clean, fresh airport clothes for tomorrow afternoon’s flight back to Wisconsin.

My shorts from yesterday will have to do. Plus this bro tank, which isn’t the best but also not the worst.

DAMN, BROit proclaims. My idiot brother thought it would be funny to get us Colters each one, and I’m certain this one is actually his because this one is white, and mine is gray and buried at the bottom of my closet.

Because it’s lame.

When I leave the bathroom, Tess stands in the same spot I left her, fiddling with the keys in her hands and looking as if she were ready to bolt.

“Ready?” She springs into action, stepping back into the kitchen and going to the fridge. Grabbing a water bottle, she hands it to me, then picks up another for herself. “I do kind of want to stop for coffee if you don’t mind?”

My stomach growls. “And some food, hopefully?”

“Sure, they have food at the coffee shop.” She laughs, leading the way outside.

My eyes trail down her back, over her ass, and continue down her tan legs. She’s wearing a short denim skirt, flip-flops, and a white tee shirt with a scoop neck that slouches down off one shoulder.

Stop staring at Tess Donahue’s ass, I tell myself.This is your best friend’s little sister.

Little sister who’s all grown up.

Grady would so kick your ass if he caught you eyeballing her.

Would he? How do you know?

’Cause I’d kick his ass if he were gawking at my sister—if I had a sister for him to gawk at.

Not the same thing, plus I’ve only ever seen him get pissed once.

First time for everything…

I hop in the front seat of Tess’s car, buckle in, and stare straight out the window.

“Where’re we going?”

She gazes out the window too. Clutching the steering wheel, she taps her fingers on the leather. “I don’t really have a plan. I…” She fans out her hands and flexes her fingers, staring at her fingernails. “Fancy a pedicure?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We should get our nails done.”

Uh.

“Should we?”

Tess starts the engine of her car with a definitive nod. “Yes. It’s a great idea. Starbucks and the nail salon.” She looks over at me, eyes on my lap. Then legs. “Pedi for both of us.”

Never heard of it. “What’s a pedi?”

“Stop.” She laughs. “You know what a pedicure is.”

We hit the drive-through for lattes and breakfast sandwiches. I order two, a spinach wrap and a bacon/egg/cheese situation, then we head to the nail salon, a place I’ve never been inside. It’s like entering a different dimension. Did you know there are these giant massage chairs where you sit while you sink your feet into a tub of water?

We don’t have to wait long. Miraculously, they have availability for both of us, which Tess assures me is not usual since it’s a Saturday and always busy. But the people who were supposed to be here were no-shows, so here I am, ass firmly planted in a burgundy massage chair.

“This is nice.” I try to make myself comfortable, calves soaking in the hottest fucking water I’ve ever stuck my legs in. The woman on the little bench in front of me is smiling up at me in such a way that I didn’t have the heart to tell her it’s scalding me. “I could get used to this.”

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