Page 27 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

“Know what?” Paul swings the deck gate open and walks in with Ricky on his tail.

“Know that he didn’t have the balls to call that girl last night,” Stone says, handing them both a beer, “so you assholes owe me fifty each.”

“C’mon, man.” Ricky slaps the back of my head. “You’re Seb-Fucking-Miller. How are you going wimp out on calling a woman? Call her right now.”

“I don’t have her cell—”

“You’re worthless,” Paul laughs. “You went all the way up to her hotel room and you didn’t even get her number? Man, you’re losing your touch. Let me be more clear. You’ve lost it. It’s completely gone.”

I shake my head as I grab my phone off the table to see who’s texting me. I stop breathing for a second when I see the message.

“Everything okay?” Stone asks.

“Yeah, it’s just Joe. You know he can’t leave me alone for more than ten minutes at a time. Some bullshit promotion I have to do before the game tomorrow.”

I look back down at my phone and try to keep a smile from exploding all over my face.

It’s Sophie. This is my number if you still want it.

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