Page 115 of Goalkeeper
“That can’t possibly be safe,” I mutter.
Instead of responding to me, she looks into the camera of her phone, which she’s rigged to a tripod. “Note to self, Pretties, when your boyfriend is in a pissy mood, he thinks he knows everything. Ugh. But, at least he’s cute. And not always this grouchy. Say hi to the Pretties, Spence.” She waves and tilts the camera in my direction.
“What the hell?! I can’t be on camera. Tell me this isn’t live?”
“It’s not live,” she says calmly. Too calmly, in fact. “It’s also ruined.” She makes quick work of putting her things away while I just sulk in the doorway.
“What is your problem, Spence? Bad practice? Are you hangry? Did someone shove a hockey stick up your ass? Because, yeah, we all have shitty days, but you are in a foul mood and you’re taking it out on me.”
I take a deep breath. “I am. And I’m sorry. Really. Will you come in, let me explain and apologize, at least for a bit?”
“You’ve got five minutes,” she says. “And let’s be clear. I like your dick, Spence. Not when youarea dick.”
“Duly noted. And you’re right. I’m probably a little hangry. A bunch of the guys stopped at the Biscuit, but I wanted to see you and just shut down all the crap of my day, so I hightailed it back here. Now, I’m thinking carb-loading first might have put me in a better mood. You want pizza?”
“You think you can apologize with pizza?”
“No, I just—”
“Well, you can. Extra cheese, please.” She takes her spot on my bed (the corner farthest from Westley’s cage) and grabs a blanket from the bottom of it.
I type in the order on the app. “Done. Our pizzas will be here in twenty.”
“Pizzas? Just how much do you have to apologize for?”
“I figured you might not like mine, and would want your own.”
“Are you one of those weird pineapple and ham people?”
“No,” I laugh. “I’m one of those gluten-free crust, vegan cheese, double broccoli people.”
“Damn,” she scrunches up her nose in the cutest way. “Good call. Now, are you going to tell me what’s got your panties in a twist? Or do we need food first?”
“Nah, it won’t take long to tell you how my day tanked. I’m sorry I’ve been a grumpy ass. Then we can eat and study. And I’ll happily help you re-do your magnetic eyeshadow video or whatever.”
“The last of the sunlight is gone, sadly. And they’re magnetic lashes. No danger, I swear. Give me some credit.”
“I may be pressing my luck here, but Westley has a pretty strong lamp in his terrarium. I bet it would double as a ring light. And he’d be more than happy to share with you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she says, smiling.
“Actually, before we start on why I’m in such a crappy mood, tell me about your day. How was tutoring?”
“So boring. So very boring. I mean, intellectually, I know that law is fascinating for some people. But I am not one of those people. I don’t want to sit around finding flaws in arguments,” she says.
“No? You don’t strike me as someone who shies away from arguments.” I laugh, stretching my legs out next to hers on the bed.
Paige shrugs. “I don’t. But I also don’t overanalyze arguments. I just win them.”
I smile for what feels like the first time in hours.
“Sorry the session was boring. When’s your next one?”
“Ugh. In two days. It’s supposed to be every week, but my practice test score was really low, so Justin thinks I need to increase my sessions. I’d say he’s just doing it for the extra paycheck, but no, he’s totally right. And, of course, my parents happily agreed. They know I’m not getting a decent score on this test without some major practice.”
“I’m an ass,” I say.
“You’ve got a great one,” she teases, reaching for me.
