Chapter 3 #2
“Maybe you just don’t understand the value of finding your person,” Kade mutters, leading the way out of the gym. “There’s something really special about having one girl that you get to spend the rest of your life with. I think that’s way better than flirting with a thousand different women.”
“I guess.” I don’t give his view that much thought. I mean, I get it. Finding some special woman sounds like a great plan and all, but the last time I had a serious girlfriend was back in high school. After nearly a year together, Jessica left me cold.
That is a type of pain that I do not care to repeat.
Actually, I won’t repeat it.
I follow Kade out to the parking lot, the November sun beating down on me. It’s a fairly warm day, and I don’t even need a jacket as we make our way across the parking lot. His truck is parked right next to mine, and with a bro kind of nod, we go our separate ways.
I start up my black F250, the radio immediately blasting a country song. I jump in my seat and reach for the knob, turning the volume all the way down.
Kade whips out of the parking lot beside me, and I chuckle at his quick departure. It’s a freaking miracle I even got him to work out with me today, given that he’d rather spend all his time with Ella.
The thought of them sends a pang of something in my chest. I brush it off. There’s nothing good that comes with settling down. When people settle down, they stop having fun. I remind myself of that as I pull out my phone and scroll to the browser, looking up information on Thanksgiving pranks.
It’s completely a cop-out not to come up with one on my own, but honestly, I need something to blow her mind.
She nearly always has the more creative prank, whereas mine are typically more destructive.
My mashed potato volcano three years ago, powered by a leftover firecracker from the Fourth of July, might not have been the most creative. ..
But it definitely made the biggest boom.
I laugh to myself as I replay the moment when it sprayed all over Cheyenne’s face. She gasped in total shock, but then followed it up by laughing so hard that she cried. I don’t think anyone else found it all that funny, but no one stops our fun.
The pranks began when we were teenagers as an innocent way to cheer Chey up for spending the holidays apart from her mom. But they’ve grown into something bigger over the years. Something everyone looks forward to.
Or ... at least, I do.
For the next fifteen minutes, I scroll through ideas, trying to find one that we haven’t done before. Finally, I land on one that I think could work, and I save the page to my favorites.
It’ll take a little doing, but it’s not impossible.
I plug my phone into the Car Play function and scroll through my playlists, searching for the best song to fit the mood, until I finally land on an upbeat pop song.
It’s not my forte, but the bass hits rather nicely.
I put the truck in drive and bob my head along with the music as I head out of the gym parking lot.
Making a right, I start the twenty-five-minute drive to my house. Thanks to the holiday, we don’t have any games until next week, which is a nice break. It doesn’t always work out that way, but this year it does.
And I could use the rest.
I pull into my driveway, hitting the garage door opener. The large door rolls up, just as my phone pings with a notification, but I don’t bother to look at it until I’ve got the truck in park.
I cut the engine, close the garage door, and then pick up my phone from the console. My heart jumps as I see Chey’s name on the screen. Weird.
Unlocking it, I swipe to open the thread.
Chey: Hope you’re ready for Turkey Day.
I chuckle, shaking my head at the little turkey emoji that sits at the end of the message, and quickly reply.
Me: You’re starting to sound a little cocky. Better watch your back.
I hit the send button and then climb out of my car, grabbing my gym bag.
I sling it over my shoulder and head into the mudroom, pausing at the washer to dump my sweaty gym clothes in the machine.
I might be a ball of fun, but I’m also a grown man who knows how to take care of himself.
I don’t pay a maid to do the things I can do myself.
After putting my gym bag away in the closet, I head to the fridge and pull out a premade meal. I pop it in the microwave and wait for it to finish heating up, then check my messages again.
Chey: Hard not to be cocky when I’m this good. We both know I’m the best.
I chuckle.
Me: You’re going down this year.
I find a GIF of someone with a turkey on their head dancing and send that to her.
Chey and I might be rivals—and I’ll totally kick her butt—but she’s also one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.
Which is another reason that I can’t freaking stand her boyfriend.
I mean, she’s dated other guys over the years, and some of them have been pretty okay.
But Garrett? He gives me the worst vibes ever.
I push the thought away and grab my food out of the microwave, peeling back the plastic and eyeing the mush.
It’ll be much better next week when I’m eating Thanksgiving leftovers...
And basking in all my deserved glory of beating Cheyenne.