Page 35 of Love on the Waiver Wire

Hey Peaches, I’m doing okay. Just having a day out and about with my niece. Sorry I haven’t texted you, I hope your painting went well today.

The text is accompanied by a photo of him with a little girl, her hair almost the same color as hers, her toothy smile infectious as she sits in a booth, a large sugary milkshake in front of her.

The text didn’t help the butterflies at all.

I can’t help but wonder if he knew exactly what he was doing with that photo.

She’s adorable!

She’s a little demon, don’t let her cuteness fool you. But she’s the best.

Well I hope you guys have a great night

I hope you do too. It looks like I may win this week

In your dreams, Crosby

* * *

“I’m not sure how you watch hours and hours of this,” Mila says as I cheer on my last remaining player in my lineup.

“You get used to it,” I shrug. I’ve been watching hours upon hours of football for as long as I can remember. It’s natural for me.

“I bet, I just don’t know if I can ever get to that point.” She sighs, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the large bowl propped between us.

“I just need that guy to get three more touchdowns,” I tell her, opening the fantasy app on my phone. I’m winning my game, but I’m not beating Owen yet. His team did crazy numbers, once again in the lead.

“I’m certain yelling at the TV will get through to him,” she chuckles, and I just roll my eyes.

My guy’s team is losing, down by 24 points in the third quarter, and I’m losing hope. One of the other wide receivers was injured, being carted away on a stretcher, and I cross my fingers for a big comeback.

And surprisingly, I get it.

The team kicks a field goal, and now I just need the guy to somehow get three more touchdowns.

And then the guy catches a 60-yard pass, running right into the end zone.

My points skyrocket. It’s only up from there.

At the end of the game, I’m beating Owen by two points.

I jump up, pumping my fists into the air as I do a little dance around my coffee table as Mila watches me, her brows furrowed and lips pursed.

“What did you have riding on this game that you’re this happy?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say innocently, scrolling through everyone’s scores.

“I think you’re lying to me, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.” She flops back onto the couch, taking a sip of her coke.

“It’s just a fun game,” I shrug, not ready to tell her about my little game with Owen.

She’s already been suspicious since last week when he got the Uber for all of us. I don’t need to show her all my cards yet, because I know she’ll never let up. It’ll be all she asks me about for the next couple of weeks.

I’ve never dated. Sure, I’ve went home with people. I’ve gone on dates in the past, but I’ve never actually had a long-term relationship. Nothing that actually meant something. Mila has been on me about dating for as long as I can remember.

But as the friend who had to nurse all her friend’s broken hearts, I was never quite sure it was worth it.

I’m not against it, I’m just not going to go out and force anything just to have a relationship.

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