Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Hell, yes.
Well, not intentionally, but I’m going to make the most of that condom in every way.
I flip through my mental calendar. Tonight is out since I’d be too tempted to stay up all night fucking, and that’s a mistake leading into a game weekend. The Hawks play at home, so I’ll be in the football-only zone tomorrow and Sunday. Same for Beck. He flies to Chicago on Saturday for a Sunday afternoon game. We’ll both be back by Monday, so he could come over that evening.
Perfect.
That’s the plan, and I’m so damn eager to ask him to spend Monday night with me. But I don’t want to do this over text. He’s too sarcastic behind a phone. Besides, I need to read his body language. While we have boba this morning, I’ll search for the right moment to ask him to spend the night with me on Monday.
With that settled, I write back.
Mister Social: I promise I’ll be unsubtle when I see you. That is, if you liked my “date idea” from earlier?
I want to make sure he knows my post-gym invite was a date. I hit send, even though my steady hands are shaking. I’m fucking nervous now, for real. I hope he says yes to seeing me after we hit the machines.
Mister Anti-Social: When you mentioned that boba shop the first time I saw you at the coffee place, were you hoping someday I’d say yes to a date?
Mister Social: Are you still trying to prove I have a crush?
Mister Anti-Social: Yes.
Mister Social: You win.
Mister Anti-Social: Excellent. Also, why do they call it a sister shop? Why not a brother shop?
Mister Social: You’re killing me. Bro shop, sis shop, who cares? Give a dude an answer.
Mister Anti-Social: With you, it’s always yes.
When I shut the front door behind me on my way out, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Anyone who sees me will be able to tell I’m deep in the red zone with infatuation.
I jog down the steps, but once Zena’s house comes into view, I erase the I-got-laid-and-I’m-getting-laid-again look as best I can. She’s watering flowers on her porch, so I call out, “Hey, Zena. I have some good news for you.”
Her smile brightens against her olive skin. “You changed your mind?” She flies down the steps, watering can in hand.
“No, but do you know Carter Hendrix?” I ask as she reaches me on the stone path.
“Of course. I love my Renegades!”
I roll my eyes. “You never really wanted me anyway for your app,” I say with exaggerated disdain.
“Of course I did. You were my first choice, and I still want an out athlete as a partner. But the Renegades are the Renegades, so I’ll happily work with one of their players,” she says.
“I mentioned to Carter you might be interested. I can have his agent get in touch.”
“You’re a doll,” she says, then leans in to give me an air kiss.
“For a Hawk,” I grumble.
“That’s true,” she says. When we separate, she dives into business mode. “But you can’t escape me entirely. Date Night is also sponsoring the Ultimate Player Auction, both here and in New York. With so many queer and straight players doing the event, there was no way I’d let another app beat me to it. My app is very LGBTQ friendly.”
That gives me another idea. “If you really want a queer dude too, I might know someone,” I offer. Hell, maybe I’m a matchmaker now for my buddies and sponsors. It’s that kind of day, and I am spreading the love.
Zena’s eyes sparkle. “I’d love any recommendations you might have.”
“Let me make a call.”
After I say goodbye to Zena, I text Carter the Zena details, then call my friend Luke, the second-string quarterback for the New York Leopards.
“McKay, I’ve told you before,” Luke says when he answers. “I’m not sharing the playbook with your sorry ass. You’re gonna have to find another way to win.”
“Ha. We’ll destroy you next weekend, regardless. And I hope they put your sorry and slow ass in so I can personally annihilate you,” I say as I walk along Jackson Street.
“I can’t believe I ever said you were nice.”
“Did you, Luke? Did you ever say that?”
“Hmm. Actually, nope.”
We shoot the breeze for a minute or two, catching up on events since I saw him in New York over the summer. “So, are you doing this Ultimate Player Auction in New York again?”
“I am. I want some hot dude to bid more on me than anyone bids on one of the straights. I pulled it off last year when I went for the highest price. I want to do it again. I’d love for a bad boy with a sexy accent to place the winning bid,” my friend says, going a little dreamy.
“That is both a noble goal and a very specific one.”