Page 99 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“Oh,” she says, her voice dipping sadly. “Wait, so…”

“Yeah,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Apparently, he was a huge fan of the Baddies. Came to every game, had season tickets, followed my stats—the whole thing. When he passed, he left the dog to Austin.”

“Oh my God,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s so sweet. And so awkward.” My sister giggles. “You’re literally competing with a dog version of yourself for Austin’s attention.”

“Not helpful,” I grumble. “Did I mention it’s ugly?”

“There is no such thing as an ugly dog.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “False. It’s a Chinese Crested and it’s the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and now she wants me to meet it in person.”

“Hey. Listen to me.” Nova straightens, putting on her “big sister” face, a trace of amusement in her eyes. “You’ve got this. It’s adog, not a gatekeeper to her heart.”

Famous last words.

18

austin

“You be on your best behavior,” I tell my father’s dog, pointing a finger at him like he actually understands what I’m saying.

Gio tilts his head and blinks at me with his bulging, watery eyes, the tiny tufts of white hair sprouting from his head and ankles.

He is looking undeniably handsome tonight with his underbite on full display, making him look both confused and vaguely threatening at the same time.

I sigh, kneeling down to his level, adjusting the bow tie I clasped around his neck earlier, adding to his charm.

“Listen,” I say to him in the soothing tone I reserve for babies and cute animals. “Gio is coming over—theotherGio. And I need you to not do that thing where you bark for no reason. Be nice. This is important.”

He flops to the floor for belly rubs, completely uninterested in the gravity of the situation.

I give him some pets and continue my lecture.

“You know,” I impart. “For once you could help me out by beingcuteandendearinginstead of looking like the creepy littlegoblin he’s accused you of. Wag your tail when he comes in. Or, I don’t know—don’t growl at him. At all.”

Gio yawns, his long pink tongue curling as he stretches out on the floor.

“I take that as a no.”

Shithead.

Ugh,why am I so nervous!?

I stand, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror above my living room fireplace and smooth a hand over my hair, which I’ve spent the last thirty minutes trying to tame into something effortless but pretty. My outfit is casual but flattering—jeans and a mohair sweater that’s loose enough without being frumpy.

I’ve gone back and forth on the makeup, eventually settling on only mascara and lip gloss.

Natural.

Easy.

I pace the living room, glancing around to make sure everything looks tidy. The throw pillows are fluffed, the blankets draped over the back of the couch are arrangedjust so, and there’s a candle burning on the coffee table that smells like vanilla and cinnamon—yum—without being overpowering.

I’ve spent way too much time agonizing over these tiny details, but I can’t help it. I want everything to be perfect.

Which means that inevitably it won’t be.

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. My stomach does a little flip again, and I shoot the dog a warning look.

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