Page 67 of Drop Shot
His mouth drops open. “But I tell her everything.”
“Yeah, and she tells my sister shit. I’m not telling you unless you promise.”
He frowns. “I really don’t like lying to her.”
“How are you lying to her?” I frown in confusion. “I’m not asking you tolie. I’m asking you to keep my private life a secret. Totally different.”
He shrugs. “All right, fair point. I won’t say a word.”
I arch a brow. “You have to swear it. Pinky swear?” I stick my finger out toward him.
He eyes the appendage with a disgruntled expression. “What are we? A bunch of fucking girl scouts?”
“I’m not telling you if you don’t swear it.”
He frowns. “You want to spit in our hands and shake on it too?”
“Maybe, if you keep dragging this out.”
He sighs and wraps his pinky around mine. “I pinky swear not to tell my fiancée whatever your big secret is.”
I take a deep breath and blurt out, “I almost kissed Whimsy.”
Noah stares at me. Stares some more. Then carefully cocks his head to the side before lifting a hand to press to my forehead. “Do you have a fever? She’s your girlfriend. It’d be kind of weird if you didn’t kiss her.”
I let out a bone rattling sigh and grab his wrist, giving the limb a gentle shove away from me.
“I don’t have a fever,” I gripe. “What I have is a fake girlfriend because my manager decided I needed one to look like I was taking my life more serious. But now I think I have a crush on my fake girlfriend and I went and made it weird by kissing her, but not quite kissing her, and now…” I exhale another weighted sigh. “Now she’s probably upstairs plotting her escape from me as we speak.”
Noah’s eyes grow larger the longer I talk. Then he gives a laugh. “I’m going to need more to drink for this conversation.”
He signals for the bartender and that’s how my two-drink limit goes flying out the window.
CHAPTER 21
WHIMSY
I didn’t wantto take Elias up on his offer to send a massage therapist to the room, but my body is certainly thanking him after the hour-long massage and the warm shower I took afterward. I expected him to be back by now, but he hasn’t returned as I crawl into bed. Stifling a yawn, I reach for the remote and look for something to put on for background noise while I scroll on my phone. I wish I wasn’t so addicted to the device, but I love browsing various social media for outfit inspiration and the latest celebrity gossip.
I’m probably thirty minutes into mindless scrolling when the door to the room chirps and opens seconds later. Elias stumbles inside with Noah holding onto him. I toss my phone aside and sit up.
“Elias?”
“Fuck,” he curses, stumbling over his own two feet. If it weren’t for Noah, I’m pretty sure he’d faceplant with the floor.
Noah sends a sheepish look my way. “Sorry. He got a bit carried away.”
“A bit?” I gripe, tossing the covers off and getting out of bed to help.
Elias looks down at me with eyes that can only be describe as puppy dog.
“Don’t look at me like that when you’re drunk,” I sigh, crossing my arms beneath my chest. I realize belatedly that the gesture has my boobs practically spilling out of my top.
Groaning in annoyance, I snatch a sweatshirt—Elias’s since it’s draped over a chair—and tug it on. It practically hangs to my knees.
He grins goofily, eyes raking over me. “You look good in my hoodie, baby.”
Baby.
