Chapter 9 Boo! #2
She throws the little orange ball and sends it flying over the net. I hit it back. We continue that way for a few exchanges before she hits the ball with as much force as I think she can, causing me to miss it completely.
“Ha!” she shouts as I sip my drink. “Thought you were good.”
Her statement makes me choke, and I realize I don’t just like when she gives me shit, I might be addicted.
She serves the ball again, and I hit it so hard it spins. She misses it completely. “Still think I’m bad at this game?” I tease.
“Do you want my honest answer?” she asks.
We go back and forth, matching each other point for point.
“8-7,” she shouts. She finished her drink two serves ago, and I can tell the alcohol has loosened her up a bit. “Your serve, playboy.”
Fuck me. I like when she calls me that.
“Playboy?” I shake my head and smack the ball in her direction. She stumbles and misses it. “8-8. I think those drinks are catching up with you.”
She sticks out her tongue.
The ball bounces between us. Each of us scores point after point. “10-10. You gonna let me win, uh…” I pause. I want to nickname her too, but I’m not sure what to call her. The first words that pop into my mind are dream girl, but I say my second choice instead.“Wrenny.”
“Nope. Don’t call me that.”
Wrenny? What the fuck, man?
She hits the ball straight at my head and scores again.
“Hey, no cheap shots,” I warn, pointing my paddle in her direction.
“11-10,” she chimes. “Looks like I might just beat the best player on the Dink and Balls pickleball team.”
I smack the ball in her direction, and she sends it back over the net. The edge of my paddle barely grazes her return, and I miss.
“I win,” she squeals, throwing her hands above her head and doing a little twirl. I know I shouldn’t be staring, but I can’t help it. She looks so fucking happy, and I like that I played a part in it.
Walking over to where I stand, she pats my chest. “Alright, pay up! Why did your day suck?” She pushes herself onto the top of the ping-pong table, leaning back ever so slightly on her hands and crossing her legs.
I take a deep breath and stuff my hands in the pockets of my pants, rocking back on my heels.
“I work for my family’s company. Last night my brother announced that he and his wife are moving to Germany for her job.
He was supposed to take over as president and CEO at the end of the year.
I’m not sure why I did it, but I told my dad I wanted to be considered for the position, and he spent today trying to prove to me that I wasn’t suited for the job. ”
“Damn, I’m sorry.” She shifts her weight to sit up a little straighter.
I shrug. “It’s honestly nothing new.”
“Did he say why he thinks that? I’m sure you’d make a great CEO.” There’s a hesitation in her voice, and I can’t help but wonder if she doesn’t think I can do it either.
“No, he didn’t. I’m currently working on this multi-use development project, and I’m really proud of it.” I start to pace. “We acquired the Cedar Hill complex back in June, and I have plans to turn it into this really cool residential and commercial space.”
Wren’s mouth falls open, and her eyes go wide. “Did you say Cedar Hill?”
“Yeah, the shithole complex over on Maple Street. He seems to think that the future CEO should tow the line. Apparently, not only did I fuck up the timeline because I decided to be a decent human and give the current tenants three months to find a place to live, but according to him I also took too many creative liberties with the project.”
She lets out a hum, and the corners of her mouth fall a little.
“Don’t tell me you agree with him?” I laugh.
“Uh, no, it’s not that,” she says. “I’m just trying to process what you just said, and I’m feeling a little woozy. I need a minute.”
She pops off the table and walks back toward the bar silently, so I follow her.
Frank sees us and walks over. “Can I get you something?”
“Water,” she says.
“Are you okay?” I ask, confused as hell, but genuinely concerned that something might be wrong with her.
“You’re talking about Cedar Hill Apartments?” she asks.
“Yeah, why?”
She starts to laugh and doesn’t stop. It’s not a normal laugh. It’s unhinged, bordering on deranged, and if I’m honest, a little scary.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re the asshole kicking me out of my apartment,” she says in between the deep breaths she's attempting to take to calm herself.
My heart sinks into my gut. “Your apartment?”
“Yeah, I live in the—what did you call it—shithole complex over on Maple Street that you’re tearing down.” She throws air quotes up as she speaks.
“Did I call it that?” I wince. “I meant the super nice complex that I wish I lived in.”
She laughs. “Part of the reason I was drinking alone tonight was because I can’t find a place to live. This is unbelievable.”
“I’m so sorr—”
“Please, I don’t want your pity or your apology.” She shakes her head, looking toward the bartender. “Can I close my tab?” He nods, tapping on the screen of the register. She takes the receipt, fills in the tip, signs her name, and then looks back at me.
“It sounds like it’s been a long day for the both of us,” she says.
“If I had known you lived there…”
“You would have what? Not done your job?” She shakes her head. “It’s business, not personal. I mean, it’s very inconvenient, and I think it’s really shitty that you or your company promised to preserve the building and then went back on that promise, but I’m not mad at you.”
“I never meant for you to get caught up in this.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. Tonight was…” She hesitates for a second. “Fun. Tonight was fun. Bye, Tanner.” She turns to walk away, and I go to grab her hand, but I miss and make contact with her purse instead.
“Please don’t leave. I’m worried I upset you.”
She takes a deep breath. “You didn’t. I’m tired and a little drunk. I need to go home. I have a long day of apartment hunting tomorrow because as you know, soon, I won’t have a place to live. I’ll see you later.”
All the joy that radiated off of her during ping-pong is gone, and I want so desperately to get it back. I might be a huge disappointment to my dad, but I don’t want to be a disappointment to her.
“Live with me,” I blurt out.
Her mouth falls open.
“You know Jacks moved out. I have space.”
“Nope. Not happening.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m not living with you.”
“Give me three reasons why you shouldn’t?”
“I’ll give you four.” She holds up a finger and takes a step towards me. “One. Living with your friend, who’s a girl, is a real cock block. I’m not going to be responsible for you getting blue balls.”
She already is.
She holds up another finger. “Two. Men and women cannot live together and just be friends. You flirt with everything that moves, and I move. I’m not going to force myself to live under the same roof as your bullshit.”
But flirting with her sounds fun.
She holds up a third finger. “Three. I’m tipsy, and I’m not about to agree to something while under the influence. I’m more responsible than that.”
Man, she’s cute when she thinks she’s getting her way.
“And four.” She puts up the last finger. “ I’ve been to your place. I could never afford it.”
I’m about to blow your mind, Wren Dawson.
“True, I guess,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.
I close the remaining space between us. Looking up at me, she swallows hard.
She freezes and her hand remains upright, like she’s afraid to move, for fear it’ll put us even closer together.
“But, have you considered there might be actual legit reasons why we should live together?”
“No, because there are not.”
Smirking, I move one of her fingers down, leaving only three still upright. “One. You currently have no place to live, and I have a spare room.”
I push the second finger down, and she remains frozen in place.
“Two. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m really strong, which means living with me is safer than living alone.”
She lets out a laugh, and I push the third finger down.
“Three. I’m a lot of fun, and you look like you could use some fun.”
She rolls her eyes. I move the last finger down, and her hand falls to her side. Her lips part ever so slightly.
“And four, I’m also a little drunk, and I feel really bad about the whole ordeal, so I won’t charge you rent. What do you say, roomie?”
She bites her lip, and I watch as her throat bobs up and down. I can see the wheels turning in her head. Is she actually considering living with me?
“I don’t know,” she says, hesitantly.
“Come on. Give me a chance.” I give her the look that’s gotten me my way with her all night, but this time I push my bottom lip out a little bit more than before. “Please.”
“Fuck,” she grits out. “Fine.” She takes a step back, and crosses her arms.
“Fine?”
“Yes, fine. But it’s only until I find somewhere else to live, and I’m paying you something. I don’t want your pity money.”
“We can work out the details later. It’s a deal then.” I smirk and put out my hand to shake hers. The minute her skin touches mine, electricity pulses through my veins.
“Hey, Frank,” I yell. “How about another round on me. We need to celebrate.”
I can’t believe I get to live with my dream girl.