Page 44 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

I didn't push. I didn't rush. For once in my life, I am playing the long game. Now I just have to wait.

"What’s gotten into you," Miller asks cheerfully as I slam my locker shut.

"Yeah," I say, annoyed.

I thought I could wait and play the long game? Jokes on me. Fucking my hand isn’t doing the damn job anymore.

It’s been four fucking days.

Four days of checking my phone like some lovesick teenager. Four days of driving past her dorm like a stalker, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Four days of torturing myself with replays of our date, analyzing every word, every look, every almost-touch.

Four days of fucking silence.

He slaps my shoulder. "Seriously though, you need to get laid? Jackie has some friends I can hook you up with. It looks like you need some good lovin’."

I glance around the locker room. Only a handful of guys are left after practice—Miller, Rodriguez, Peterson, and Cory. Guys I've known for years, guys I trust.

My mind’s been racing for days.

Fuck it.

"I don’t need to get laid. I need advice," I say, dropping onto the bench.

There's a moment of stunned silence before they all burst out laughing.

"The great Sanderson Connolly needs dating advice?" Rodriguez chuckles. "Weren’t you just passing out advice the other day?"

"I didn't say it wasdatingadvice," I mutter, though of course it is.

"Your face says it all, bro." Cory sits beside me. "Who is she?"

I hesitate, then decide to rip off the bandaid. "My brother's ex."

The laughter stops abruptly.

"Shit," Peterson says. "You mean that cute brunette? The one with the legs?"

"Hannah," I correct, not liking her being reduced to a body part, which is rich coming from me, I know.

"Damn, Connolly. Keeping it in the family?" Miller's eyebrows shoot up.

"That's messed up," Rodriguez adds, though he's grinning. "No wonder you're stressed—I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole."

"We went out," I admit. "Dinner and then ice cream."

"Dinner and then ice cream?" Cory repeats incredulously. "You fucking took her out and didn’t mention it until now?"

"Fuck off," I say without heat.

"Well, how was it?" Cory asks.

I inhale. "It was nice."

"Nice?" Peterson makes the word sound like a disease. "Since when do you do 'nice'?"

"I don’t fucking know." I run a hand through my hair. "But it's been four days and nothing. No call, no text. I gave her my number a while ago and just…nothing."

"Forget her," Rodriguez says decisively. "There are plenty of other girls who your brother didn’t date."

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