3. Chapter 3 #2
“This one is deep fried with crab and mango,” he says.
Then he points to a roll that looks to be overflowing with everything.
“That one has tempura shrimp but also three different kinds of fish. The thing that takes it over the top, though, is the conch.” He takes a bite of the fancy roll, nodding. “Mm-hmm. It’s next level.”
I crinkle my nose. “You had me until you mentioned the conch.”
“Have you tried it?” Adrian asks after a sip of water.
“Well, no. Isn’t it tough, though?” I ask.
He scoots the plate toward me. “See for yourself.”
Warily, I pick up a piece of the suspicious roll, dipping it in soy sauce. There’s no way to take a hesitant bite of sushi—it’s an all-or-nothing food. Shoving the whole piece in my mouth, I carefully chew.
“I hate you,” I say when I swallow.
Adrian’s eyes dance. “That’s mean.”
“Why did you let me order without telling me to get this one? Shame on you,” I tease. But I push his plate back with genuine envy.
“Now, party for Griffin,” I say, refocusing our conversation.
“I want you to take him with you to the All-Star Game. I know he’s completely happy having retired from baseball, but I know he also misses it like he had an arm amputated.
Give him a final taste of his old MLB life before they get married. ”
“There’s no guarantee I get invited to the All-Star Game.”
My eyes shoot to the heavens. “Adrian. Please. We all know you’ll get voted in again. You’re everyone’s favorite player.”
He takes a bite of the mango sushi roll with a pleased smile. “Okay. If I get invited, I’ll take him with me. What’s the backup plan in case I don’t?”
“No backup plan. I have complete confidence in you,” I state. He holds eye contact long enough that my heart beats harder. I look down, poking at another piece of my sushi that now feels subpar compared to Adrian’s.
My plate suddenly disappears as Adrian grabs it. “Hey!” I exclaim, but my protest is cut off when he scoots his plate in front of me.
“Let’s trade. You know you want to,” he says with a grin.
I pretend to think about it for a half second, then eagerly pick up a piece of the sushi from heaven. He asks, “And what will you be doing with Danae?”
“I’m going to plan a reading retreat for her,” I say around my mouthful of sushi.
Adrian scrunches his nose. “A what? That sounds boring.”
“Not boring. It sounds like Danae,” I say. “I’m going to rent a super-nice Airbnb and invite her closest friends to get away for a couple of days and read books.”
Adrian’s eyebrows scrunch with confusion, and it’s adorable. “Out loud?”
I can’t help but giggle. “No. Not out loud. We’ll all read our own books quietly by ourselves. And talk about them over takeout.”
“You’re right. That sounds exactly like Danae,” Adrian concedes. “You’re a genius.”
My heart inflates two sizes. “Thank you. I try,” I say.
I fill Adrian in on the wedding plans so far, including the bridal party.
“It’s really just gonna be me and Drew as groomsmen?” Adrian asks. “Not your brothers?”
I shake my head. “They really want simple and small. Including all the siblings and in-laws was getting too complicated. If Griffin included our younger brother, Ian, and our older brother, Sawyer, he felt like he’d also have to include our older sister Miranda’s fiancé, Jordan.
But then Danae would need to ask Miranda plus Sawyer’s wife, Anne.
And that would make more groomsmen than bridesmaids, forcing Danae to choose an additional friend to balance it out.
She was obviously stressed. So Griffin settled on asking only you and Drew, and Danae asked me and her best friend, Kara. ”
“The music teacher at her school?” Adrian clarifies. I nod. “But you make the cut, obviously,” he states, like it really is obvious.
A blush heats my cheeks. “Well. Danae and I have a much closer relationship than she does with our other siblings. Considering I’m the one to thank for the two of them dating in the first place,” I joke, even though I’m entirely serious.
Griffin definitely has me to thank for helping him land Danae.
“Don’t forget to credit your partner in crime,” he says, gesturing at himself. “Are you coming with them to the game tomorrow night?”
I can’t answer immediately because I’m too busy savoring the last bite of heavenly sushi. Sighing, I say, “They invited me, but I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”
“Come on,” Adrian exclaims. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re always there, dummy,” I tease. “It’s your job.”
“It’s fireworks night, though. You wouldn’t want to miss watching the fireworks with Jason,” Adrian prods.
“I’ve watched more postgame fireworks than I could count.” Disappointment unexpectedly flickers in his eyes, and I relent. “But fine—I’ll come watch the game tomorrow, if it means that much to you.”
Adrian grins. “It’s always better to play for a full stadium. Now, are there any other wedding party duties I need to know about, or do you want to tell me more about sombrés?”
Rolling my eyes, I dip a piece of the mango sushi into soy sauce. “Watch it, or I’m going to sombré your hair in your sleep. Actually, you can help me out with some Spanish—what’s a good unoffensive insult I can use when you’re acting ridiculous?”
Adrian’s grin takes on a mischievous glint. “Guapo, definitely. Use that one.”
I kick his shin slightly harder than last time. “Even I know that word, dummy. You don’t need your big head inflated further by me calling you ‘handsome.’ Help me out for real.”
After pretending I’ve seriously injured him both physically and emotionally, he rubs his hand along his goatee and taps a finger on the thin mustache above his lips. “You could say ‘menso’ if you want something similar to ‘dummy.’”
“Menso?” I repeat, trying it out. Narrowing my eyes, I demand, “You swear you’re not tricking me into saying something extremely offensive that’s going to get me in trouble?”
Adrian leans across the table, his voice low when he replies, “I don’t know. Am I?”
“That’s it—I’m googling it,” I say, turning to pull out my phone.
He swats the phone away with a laugh and says, “I swear it’s not offensive. But if you’re talking to a woman, you’d have to change it to mensa instead of menso. That could get you in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m reserving this as my special nickname for only you,” I say, pointing the chopsticks in my hand at Adrian. I’m surprised when he looks down and purses his lips together like he’s stifling a smile.
His expression is thoughtful when he looks back up to me. “Okay, cielo, I’ll let you call me that. But only if you swear not to google any Spanish words. Just ask me.”
Eyeing him suspiciously, I say, “Fine. Deal. What does cielo mean?”
His playful smile returns as he leans back in the booth and says, “You’re gonna have to wait for that translation. I’ll tell you when I think you’ve earned it.”
I move to kick him again, but he’s ready this time and catches my ankle with his hand.
“Tsk tsk. The training staff would not appreciate your repeated assault of a star player,” Adrian says.
My foot shakes free as goose bumps shoot up my leg, and I smile. “Whatever, menso.”