Page 25 of The Hot Shot
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re a fucking menace.”
He laughs, totally unrepentant. I wonder if this is how I come off to Chess. It isn’t exactly flattering. If that’s the case, I can’t blame her for wanting to stay away.
Shaking my head at Jake, I pull out my phone. Thoughts of Chess make me want to talk to her. We’d agreed to be friends, exchanged numbers, and then I’d left her to her night. Not an easy task, considering she’d said she was going home to soak in a tub.
Would it be within the bounds of friendship to ask how that bath of hers went?
“Who are you texting?” Jake tries to peer over my arm.
I elbow him away. “Isn’t there another female you could be posturing for?”
Jake squints as if contemplating. “Probably not a good idea. I think I’m pushing it as it is.”
“Oh, now you come to that realization?” Snorting, I tap out a message to Chess.
She answers immediately. We fire a few texts back and forth. No matter what I throw her way, she volleys right back with sass.
“You should see your face right now, Manny,” Jake says. “You are in total smit.”
“Smit?”
“Yeah, smitten. Totally fucking smitten.” He looks almost sorry for me. Chess pings me back, and I grin and answer, only half-aware of Jake.
“This does not bode well for you, my friend,” he says. “Clueless shits like us should stick to hookups.”
“Not everything is about sex,” I tell him, only half believing it. I type another message to Chess, as Eleanor spots us and heads our way with a look in her eye that promises she’ll be making us sweat and burn.
“You’re right,” he says with a grin. “There’s football. Sex and football. What more could a guy want?”
Six months ago, I’d tell him nothing and give him a high five. Now? I don’t know the answer.
Chess
I’m putting on my makeup when Finn texts me.
GQ:Hey. Who are you shooting today?
I can’t decide if it’s the fact that he texted me or that I’d named himGQin my contacts that makes my day suddenly alittle sunnier. But there’s a smile tickling my lips as I pick up my phone and respond.
CC:Porter. Worchowsky. Redmond. Phillips, Mr. Nosy.
We’re doing two calendars. One featuring the offensive team and the other with the defensive team. Today, I’m working with guys on the defense.
GQ:I don’t know this Nosy. Careful. He might be a spy.
CC:Very cute.
GQ:I try.??
CC:Aw, and you do emojis too. Such a cute QB.
GQ:Am tempted to send the finger emoji...
My laughter rings out in the relative silence of my loft. I find myself unable to sit still anymore and head for my balcony.
CC:??Where are you?
GQ:On my way to ballet class.
