Page 58 of The Sweet Talker

“Not going to be there,” I say.

He pauses and I sigh as I look at him. Why won’t he leave already?

“How about this? If I score a touchdown, you come, if I don’t…then it’s my loss. In more ways than one.”

His loss? Okay, I really am in some alternate universe. Football players do not flirt with me, and that’s the way I like it.

“Why would I bargain with you? What could possibly be in it for me?”

“Come tonight.” He flashes perfect white teeth. “Find out.”

“We’ll be there,” Peyton says, finality in her tone, letting us both know it’s going to happen and the conversation is over.

“We will not be there,” I clarify through clenched teeth. We have a better chance of getting snow in Southern California this late September evening. Not. Going. To. Happen.

“See you tonight, Peyton,” Landon says. “See you too, Ella.” He points to the camera. “Now you’d better press record. You don’t want to miss my touchdown.”

My God, could the guy be any hotter…I mean, cockier. Yeah, cockier, that’s what I meant. The guy is not hot. Nope not hot at all.

Much.

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