Page 66 of All Too Well
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m well aware of that.”
“And since you got that off the hard work that me and my other athlete friends provided, I’ll happily accept an apology,” I say with a brow raised.
There’s about a snowball’s chance in hell of getting that from her, but I wait.
And wait.
Ainsley snorts. “Dream on, buddy.”
Figures as much. “Ungrateful to my contributions to your life, as always.”
“Umm, I’m sorry, what the hell have you contributed ever?”
“I just told you. My physical prowess has allowed you to go to school at a reduced rate.”
“You didn’t even go to NYU!” she yells and throws her hands up. “We didn’t even have a football team. Jesus.”
I shrug. “Semantics.”
“Okay, Mr. I-Am-So-Sports-I’m-in-Community-College-to-Still-Play, what exactly are the hopes of the Disc Jocks?”
“To win.”
I mean, is there even any other option? I don’t think so.
“I guess I’m trying to ask what exactly you all hope to gain out of this.”
I narrow my eyes a little, wondering whether this is Ainsley, my longtime friend, or Ainsley, the reporter who is trying to get ahead in her career.
Either way, I’m the Lachlan I’ve always been and love nothing more than pissing her off.
“Fun.”
And with that I grab my things and head into the living room.
In normal Ainsley fashion, she doesn’t like not having the last word and grunts, storming in behind me.
“What was Miles’s genius idea?” she asks.
Ugh, I forgot about that text thread. I open it up to several more messages, which means I missed any chance to veto this.
Miles
We all wear different Taylor Swift shirts. We can psych them out.
Killian
I’m sorry, what?
Miles
You know, I love this idea. My sister is a huge fan and has shirts. I bet I could get some.
Everett
We can all be a different era.
Killian
