Page 124 of Full Tilt
Tommy
I cannot believe he’s sleeping on that sofa bed for four nights. He’s crazy. One night, and I needed to call an emergency chiropractor.
Me
Go complain to those who decided to pay female pro soccer players next to nothing.
Tommy
Oh, I will. I’m going to join social media for that reason alone. My first post will be how gross I think it is. You girls work so damn hard.
Me
Flattery will get you everywhere.
Tommy
Even between your thighs tonight?
Me
Don’t push it, Tommy.
Tommy
I love it when you’re mean to me. It just makes me want to fuck you harder.
“Jen,” Holt announces from behind me, “do not tell me, now that all the stores are closed, that we have no dessert on Christmas Day.”
Setting my phone down on the foldable table we’re using as a makeshift dinner table for today, I rise from the chair and come to sit at one of the barstools facing my tiny kitchen.
My brother looks happy, healthy, and in better shape than I’ve seen him in a long time, maybe even ever. I hope that the happy part will stick around after I tell him that we do, in fact, have a dessert and it is, in fact, being hand-delivered by his favorite person.
“We have dessert,” I reply.
He looks around, scratching at the back of his neck. Just like Tommy, Holt in my apartment is kind of comical. Like a giantmoving around a doll’s house. Everything is so tiny in my one-bed, and Holt is huge in every way possible. As a fly-half, he also has to be agile and the brains of the team, the playmaker literally calling the shots.
“Is it a magical dessert that’s suddenly going to appear, or should I make one up? You actually have proper food in your fridge for once, so I could definitely put something together.”
Picking up my wineglass, I smile around the rim. The only reason I have proper food these days is thanks to the boy due to arrive anytime.
I take a sip and set the glass back down on the breakfast bar, making a split-second decision that now is as good of a time as any to tell Holt about Tommy. Waiting until he walks through the door might not be my best move.
I clear my throat. “Actually, can I talk to you about something?”
Holt narrows his eyes at me playfully, undoing another button on his white dress shirt. “If it’s about how high you run the heating in this place, then sure.”
Sliding off the stool and grabbing my wine, I walk across to the couch and take a seat, tucking one leg beneath me. “My cheap-ass landlord finally replaced the furnace. He didn’t relish the idea of being sued for freezing his tenants to death.”
Holt huffs out a laugh and flops down into the chair on my left. “No. He’s going to boil them and their visitors instead.”
Glancing quickly at my watch, I know Tommy could arrive at any second. With the way he drives and with hardly any traffic on the roads today, I know it won’t take him a half hour to get here—fifteen minutes, tops.
I flick my eyes up to Holt, who’s busy typing something on his phone before he sets it down on the coffee table in front of him and gives me his full attention.
“I know you were joking about dessert magically appearing, but …” I tuck some hair behind my ear, fidgeting. “It actually will. Any minute now.”
Holt cocks his head to the side in question.
