Page 18 of The Wrong Play

You might ask me why I had such a problem with three nipples, but I actually didn’t.

What I had a problem with, was the fact that I was pretty sure my face had been tattooed around that third nipple. And considering that I had no recollection of sleeping with someone with a third nipple, this girl was probably a stalker.

I was stalker-worthy, obviously.

But I actually preferred to be the onedoingthe stalking.

“Deleted,” Matty said, grimacing as he handed me my phone back.

“You’re a man above men, Matty-kins,” I drawled.

“Do you have to call me that?” he asked,stillgrimacing.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I annoying you with mybestfriendship?”

“Yourbestfriendship?” Parker asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes, mybestfriendship, QB. You guys have qualified for my best, which is very lucky for you, and reminds me…I’ve got one.”

They both groaned almost simultaneously, like I wasn’t the funniest person they knew. Seriously so rude.

“You meananotherone,” Matty pointed out, obviously remembering my banger of a joke during the game.

“This is a really good one,” I told them matter-of-factly.

“Oh, I hear Casey calling my name,” Parker said, looking around the locker room as if it was possible to hear anyone through the thick concrete walls. Also rude.

“What do you call a masturbating cow?” I asked them, starting to chuckle a little because I was so damn funny.

“It’s weird that you’re already laughing. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment when you’re already laughing.”

“Pshh,” I said, waving my hand at Matty because I was completely unconcerned about that. “Beef Stroganoff.”

Both of them stared at me with blank faces.

“What are you going to do with beef stroganoff?” Matty finally asked.

“It’s the joke.Beef stroking off,” I said, enunciating it slowly because, obviously, not everyone could have a big brain like I did.

“I still don’t get it?” Matty said, surprising me not even a little.

“It’s because you interrupt me forty-five million times whenever Igiftyou with a joke. It disrupts the cadence.”

“I happen to have incrediblecadence,” Parker drawled.

“When shouting plays to our center, yes. When interrupting my jokes, no, you do not.” I grimaced as I removed my shoulder pads because my ribs fucking hurt to move.

I cracked my neck. “Okay, but real talk—am I the best receiver in football or am I not? And there is only one right answer, so even Matty should be able to get this one right.”

Parker snorted, and Matty huffed.

“So braggy for someone who can barely breathe because he got hit so hard,” Matty said sarcastically.

“Ahh, you’re still upset about the one inch,” I said wisely, able to see right through the prickly tight end of a lover bean.

Parker laughed, finally accepting how funny I was. But Matty just snarled.

“You can say one inch as much as you want, but it’s never going to be true. A quarter of an inch doesn’t even round up to one,” he hissed, finally showing me a hint of a big brain.

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