Page 164 of Call the Shots
“So fucking good,” I whispered, eyes closed.
I carried supplies to the lounge, the orange juice, the water pitcher, syrup, and other essentials for a big breakfast. That meant tiptoeing across the mattresses.
The boys looked younger in their sleep, the hard lines gone. I couldn’t believe they wouldn’t play together.
I stacked everything on the table below the TV and returned with a plate of bacon. It was one of our last mornings together, I’d make sure it was a good one.
“Good morning,” I whispered, nudging Montoya until he blinked blearily at me. I prodded the others, creating a domino effect of hockey players shaking their teammates awake. Carefully, I made my way to Bear and touched his back. “Good morning.”
He buried his face in the couch cushion and moaned.
Not the last one of the day.
I bit back the smirk.
“June?” Nick croaked, digging into his pancakes. “Is your leg sore?”
“Hm?”
“With Bear humping it all night?”
Snickers passed through the room, and I flicked the back of his head, moving to take his plate until he gave a half-hearted apology.
Bear finally stretched, a mass covered in blankets. Pouring myself a cup of water, I could hear him stumble to the table and mumble a ‘thank you’ between shoveling bacon into his mouth.
The room fell silent.
Forks froze over their plates, cartons of juice were held midair, mouths fell open. Everyone stared at Bear. The only one looking away from him was Elijah. His eyes were on me.
I moved around the table to see what the big deal was as Bear chugged a cup of orange juice.
Was something…written on his face?
On his forehead wasPROPERTY OF.Left cheek wasJUNE. Right cheek wasBASIL.
PROPERTY OF JUNE BASIL.
The breath left my body, and I joined the gawkers. Bear slowly realized we were staring at him and paused. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
The room erupted into laughter and every guy still on their mattress doubled over with it. I was so shocked, I couldn’t move, while Bear demanded to know what the hell was so funny before he dug out his phone.
“What is this?!” he demanded. “What does it say?!”
He must’ve connected it because threats ricocheted out of him but that just made the team laugh harder. I didn’t laugh—not because it wasn’t funny but because I was so stunned.
I took his hand to go downstairs. “There’s a big thing of rubbing alcohol at the front desk. We need to act now to get it off?—”
“Who did this?!” Bear shouted over his shoulder. The answer would have to wait.
Downstairs, the front desk assistant handed me the rubbing alcohol and a box of tissues without question. Bear was blushing so hard, it highlighted the words. It was pretty obvious what we needed.
I had him lean down while I rubbed the tissue into his cheek. “I think it’s been too long,” I confessed. “We’ll have to do this over a couple of days, you can use my face wash.”
“Those fucking idiots,” Bear mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “I didn’t write this!”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I murmured.
“Oh. Holy shit.”
