21. June
TWENTY-ONE
June
“I’m officially mortified. I can’t look at him.” My whisper is harsh as I lean toward my sister, following her through the crowded hallway inside the football stadium. “He saw what you got me, Poppy. He saw the things.”
“Are you sure?” Poppy glances back at me, her brows raised. “I was very discreet.”
“You handed it to me in front of everyone. He wouldn’t even look at me while we were giving Oliver a bath and when I went back to my room.” I let my voice drop a few more octaves, looking between her and Kinsley, suddenly very aware of all the people surrounding us. “The vibrator and the dildo were sitting in the middle of my bed. No bag, Poppy. There was no bag.”
Poppy tosses her head back, laughing her proverbial ass off. Even Kinsley, who’s supposed to be on my side, clutches my arm as she cackles. They’re both a bunch of jerks. Big fat jerks. I bet Kinsley was in on it too.
If I had a clue where I was in relation to our seats and how to get back to them, I’d ditch my two friends right now. But I don’t. With my luck, I’d be wandering around for hours and would miss the entire game. There’s no way I’d be able to find the car either.
I should have agreed to take my dad—and only my dad—when I told him about the tickets Ryan was giving me and Oliver instead of asking for two more so I could take these two assholes. At the time I thought I was being nice.
Well, I also felt better knowing the two of them would be with me in case I ran into Ryan’s girlfriend, Lexie. Which is also why I asked for stadium tickets instead of opting to sit in the family box. I can see it from where we’re sitting—thanks, Dad, for pointing that out—and that’s good enough.
I have no doubt she’d recognize me, as the yoga video kinda went viral and Ryan’s Instagram turned rabid overnight. There are already all sorts of internet speculation as to the nature of our relationship and tons of questions about how his girl, feels about it. There’s bound to be some sort of confrontation between us eventually, but the more space I can put between now and then, the better. I need a little more time to put to rest the feelings he elicits deep in the pit of my stomach.
At least I’ve had more people sign up for my class this weekend. I can only hope they’re interested in yoga and not gossip.
“You should have gotten her the eighteen-inch floppy dong you were looking at. That would have been priceless. You’d have needed an extra-large gift bag. It was so big.” Kinsley manages to wheeze this out, holding her hands about two feet apart, which only makes Poppy laugh harder.
She swipes at the corners of her eyes. “Yes . . . would . . . have been . . . so much . . . better.”
Yeah, so much better. Insert eye roll here. Although I’m tempted to ask where they found one that big, but I don’t dare. I wouldn’t put it past them to make sure it shows up on Ryan’s doorstep within the week. If he wasn’t already traumatized, he would be after finding that.
“So how did he get ahold of the bag in the first place?” Poppy takes a few deep breaths, fanning her face, and then grabs my hand, pulling me into the team store. “I made sure to hand it to you.”
What do I tell her? That I turned into a feral beast when I realized Oliver was trying to dig into the bag and flung the entire thing across the room? There’s no way. That would only add fuel to the fire, and that sucker is already burning high enough.
Instead, I mumble, “Accident.”
I’m sure she’ll believe that.
“Yes, they have jerseys.” Kinsley flies past us to a wall plastered with them. “I’ve been dying to get a Bronson one.”
I huff a laugh, following her over, noting the rather large percentage of women shopping for gear. I also see and promptly ignore anything and everything that says Devlin across the back. “I didn’t realize after one game you were such a big fan. Is this going to become an obsession of yours?”
“Unlike you, I know how to google, and Mama likes what she found, which incidentally includes several shirtless pictures. He’s currently single, loves dogs, and if he can give me an orgasm like the vibrator I named after him, he’s perfect.”
“How do you know he loves dogs?” Poppy gives her a pointed look, sifting through a pile of sweatshirts.
Kinsley sighs, grabbing a Bronson uniform shirt and hugging it to her chest. I’m almost surprised she didn’t smell it, but I bet if we weren’t here—oh, never mind, she did it. “He volunteered at a local animal shelter. They had a picture of him surrounded by puppies. That man sure knows how to look good next to a golden retriever.”
“Everyone likes puppies, Kins. Even serial killers.”
Kinsley draws in an exaggerated breath, looking my way, and I shrug. If she thinks I’m going to help her after she picked out the thrusting vibrator, she’s mistaken. She’s on her own.
“So what does Mom think of all this? Obviously Dad’s on board. I don’t think I’ve seen him this excited in ages.” Poppy rolls her eyes, but she’s not wrong. He’s fully decked out in Aces gear and is currently in our seats, chowing down on junk food with Oliver. I’m pretty sure he has one of those giant foam fingers shoved under his seat, but I’m afraid to look.
“Mom is ... I’m not sure. She’s tolerating the situation.” And by tolerating, I mean spending the week making passive-aggressive comments about football players. None of us can pretend to be surprised. “The BBQ at her place is sure to be interesting.”
Poppy snorts, pulling a Westgate jersey from the wall and looking at me expectantly. “Are you not getting one?”
“You have to.” Kinsley’s eyes widen. “What will football daddy think? He’ll be most disappointed.”
What would Ryan think?
Hell if I know.
We’ve been avoiding each other since Monday. You know, the day I climbed him like he was a playground toy, almost kissed him, and left my new sex toys for him to find on his living room floor. To be fair, we’ve both had a busy week. He learned how to pick Oliver up from day care and ended up taking him to the park before hitting up a pizza place. I had to work late on Tuesday. And yesterday ... well, we had plenty of time to talk, but as soon as we put Oliver to bed, he got a phone call and disappeared into his room.
It seems we both might be experts at avoidance, which is just fine with me. It’s only helping me purge him from my mind and mentally prepare for my date tomorrow night.
Michael has been messaging me all day, making sure I know how much he’s looking forward to our dinner, and I’ve been ... well, responding. I’m trying, okay. I don’t expect Ryan to leave my thoughts after a few days, but by the weekend, he’ll be gone. No more dirty thoughts. No more near kisses. No more belly butterflies.
I’ll have moved on and, who knows, maybe Michael and I will have an excellent time. He’s nice enough.
All I have left to do is ask Ryan if he’d be okay hanging out with Oliver for a few hours tomorrow night. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Relieved even. Unless he has plans with his girlfriend, but I’ve got Poppy on standby if that’s the case.
So, yeah, I’ll get a jersey, but it’s not going to be his. I don’t need to be giving anyone the wrong idea, least of all myself. Which is why I snag one that says Brooks on the back and hold it up for Kinsley, waving it in front of her face.
“There. I got one. Are you happy?”
“Ecstatic. Now, are we going to watch a football game or what?”