Page 112 of Flaunt
She snorts, trying desperately to hold back her amusement.
“Haven’t you ever watched football?” I ask, holding out a hand.
“Not on purpose.”
She has a lot to learn.
I roll my eyes and take my phone out of the console. “Here. Make sure you video call Paige before the action starts. Her name is saved in my favorites. She wants to see me kick their asses.”
“How do I know what your password is to get in?”
“It’s sixty-nine, sixty-nine, sixty-nine.”
“How very predictable of you,” she says, taking the phone from me. “It’s buzzing.”
I stretch my arm overhead and then the other. I can’t go meet my brothers stone cold. The calisthenics I did at home got me loose, but I need to get some heat and pliability back in my muscles before I get out of the car.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Do you want me to look?”
I smirk. “Well, unless you have X-ray vision, I guess you’re going to have to look.”
She narrows her eyes.Adorable. “This one is from Tasha. It says, ‘Hubs got called in to work so the trip is getting cut short. I’ll be in tomorrow afternoon to try to get the office sorted before Monday. Please tell me nothing burned completely down while I was gone.’”
“Yes.” I pump my fists. “See? This is what you get. You do nice things for people and the universe rewards you.”
“The next one says, ‘Peacocks are one of the fastest running birds that can run at a speed of about ten miles per hour.’” Her brows pinch. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that this is about running speeds and you’re about to run?”
I sit back in my seat.I don’t know.
I can’t figure this text thing out. My instincts were leaning toward Foxx, but he’s standing right in front of me with no phone. All of my brothers are.So who the fuck can it be?
Who knows all my brothers and would go out of their way to send us random animal texts? Paige? Maybe, but it doesn’t seem like something she’d do. She has her hands full with Nate and Ryder.Mom? Dad?I think about that.Dad’s too busy with work and the couch debacle. Mom has enough to do besides looking up animal factoids. That’s not her style, anyway.
I look up. Jess is motioning for us to get moving.
“Is it a coincidence?” I ask, opening my door. “I don’t know. Do coincidences exist?”
Sara shrugs as she meets me at the front of Betsy. Together, we walk toward the pack.But not a Wolfpack, according to Jess.
“For fuck’s sake, Sparkles,” Moss says. “We were starting to think you chickened out.”
I look at Jess and smirk. “Hi, Chicken Daddy.”
“Banks, fuck off.”
Everyone laughs.
“Did anyone bring a medical kit?” Mom asks, looking around.
The group of us shrugs and voices our failure to think that far ahead.
“Just don’t fall down or anything,” Mom says. “And, for the love of God, don’t break anything.”
“Please,” I say. “We’re athletes. Did you forget who you are talking to?”
Dad snorts. “I hate to tell you all, but you haven’t been athletes in ten, fifteen years.”
