Page 62 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

For a second, I feel like the world’s biggest dickhead—but then I glance at the dog again. He’s still staring at me with his bugged-out eyes and his scrawny body, like he knows we’re talking about him.

“Okay.” I rub the back of my neck. “I get that you didn’tname him, but you kept the name. Which means you’re still partially responsible.”

“He’s too old to have his name changed.” Austin gives him a few scratches behind his ugly ears, already laughing. “This is just a happy accident.”

Glad she finds this so funny.

“Happy?” I ask, utterly incredulous. “This is anidentity crisis.”

Her dog has my name.

Ihave the dog’s name.

If my mother were alive, I’d be calling her right now to vent about it.

Austin is laughing so hard, tears are streaming down her face as she says, “I can’t believe this is what’s breaking you. Not the heckling, not the game pressure—this. The dog.”

“That dog is an atrocity,” I can only whisper, still shocked and alarmed.

She gasps, as if I’ve just insulted a family heirloom. “Atrocity?You’re talking about my dad’sbeloveddog. Do you have no soul?”

Welp, it’s official:I’m an asshole.

I just insulted her deceased father’s ugly dog.

“It’s not my fault he looks like he crawled out of the Underworld!” I practically shout at my screen, throwing up the hand not holding my cell. “I mean, come on—lookat him.”

“Stop it!” she says, though she’s still laughing as she strokes the dog’s back. “You’re going to hurt his feelings.”

“Hurt hisfeelings?” I repeat, incredulous. “He doesn’t have feelings, Austin. He’s too busy plotting world domination.”

Look at him!

“You’re the worst.”She thinks this is hilarious and nothing can convince me otherwise. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had given me notice that you were going to video call.”

I do not believe that for one second. “That is such bullshit.”

She would find a way to torture me regardless.

Her laughter has finally subsided, but there’s still a bright, infectious smile on her face.

And even with her ridiculous, not-cute dog in the frame, I can’t bring myself to look away from her.

“It’s not!” she argues, though the grin on her face gives her away.

“If you had texted me first, I could’ve prepared. Moved Gio off the pillow so you didn’t have a full-blownmeltdown.”

The fact that she keeps calling the dog Gio is killing me.

Not even softly.

A stab to the heart.

“A meltdown? That is not what this is!” I protest too much, my voice cracking slightly at the end. Great. It’s exactly the tone of having a meltdown.

“Oh no?” she teases, tilting her head as she adjusts the dog so he’s perched even higher on her pillow, his big, unblinking eyes staring directly into the camera. “You’re glad you called, though, aren’t you?”

“I’m regretting it more by the second,” I moan.

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