Page 51 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Gio: Yes.

Gio: When am I NOT flirting with you?

I glance out the windshield at the now empty parking lot.

It’s quiet, save for the occasional car passing on the main road, but my mind is buzzing. I should probably head home, grab something to eat, but the thought of putting the conversationon pause for the next half hour while I drive into the city bums me out.

Austin: Valid point.

Gio: Have you given any thought to my proposal?

I type another message and delete it.

Twice.

Austin: I mean—you want me to come to games… but I’m almost always at the games to begin with, so…

Gio: No. In your special seats.

Austin: Those special seats are your SISTER’S.

Gio: Nova has those seats because of me. Let’s not kid ourselves, she’s happy to share.

Austin: So what I hear you saying is—not only do I have to show up, I have to sit in the SAME seat???

Gio: Yes. And bring the sign heckling me, and wear the same outfit.

Austin: Okay, now you’re acting superstitious.

Gio: Not superstitious. Routine.

Austin: Same thing!!!!

Gio: It’s not the same thing! It’s science.

Austin: Science?

Gio: Yes. Causeand effect. You show up in the same spot, wearing the same outfit, holding the same sign, and I win. That’s hard data, professor.

Austin:

Gio: Don’t roll your eyes at me through the phone. I can feel it.

Austin: Good. Then you can feel me telling you how ridiculous you are.

Gio: You say ridiculous, I say irresistible.

Austin: No comment.

I don’t want to come off like some guy who’s desperate for attention—but here I am, sitting in my truck like a complete idiot, hanging on every damn word.

Admit it, Gio. You’re whipped.

The thought hits hard, and I let out a low laugh. I am, aren’t I? Sitting here waiting for her to text back, smiling at my phone like some lovesick teenager.

It’s embarrassing.

"Christ," I mutter, running a hand through my damp hair. "What the hell are you doing, man?"

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