Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Your boy’s doing?” M slyly asks prompting me to shift uncomfortably in my leather seat.
“In regards to the shoes or the scrubs?”
“Both.”
“I’ve actually always liked wearing heels. I just recently stopped giving a shit how other people feel about me towering over them.”
“And the scrubs?”
“They’re cute!”
“But my tie isn’t?”
“Your tie is burning my retinas, Coach.”
Loud chuckles are accompanied by a headshake. “You sound like the boys.”
“I should,” leaves me in a playful tease. “I’ve spent enough time around them between being at their games and them being in my office.”
He lets the corner of lips curl upward. “What about the boyfriend?”
Fear ruthlessly grabs me by the face.
“He like hockey?”
“Yeah,” guilt lowers my volume, “he…loves…hockey.”
“He like the Dragons?”
“He…loves…them.”
“He know your big bro slash best friend slash stamp of approval holder is the head coach?” His mirth has me desperately trying to fake my own. “That why we still haven’t met?”
“He knows,” I quietly confess. “And you’ll meet soon enough.”
“Tonight, would’ve been perfect, aye?” The playful poke swells a lump of sadness in my throat. “Where’s he taking you out for dinner?”
“Why…?” skeptically leaves me. “So, you can know if you’ve got spies in the area to report back to you?”
“Well, you won’t tell me shit!”
“I tell you shit all the time!”
“Yeah, but not his name.”
“Because I don’t want you soc’ stalking!”
“Why not?” he good naturedly laughs, informing me of his truly unbothered disposition. “What’s wrong with a little pregaming to the big faceoff?”
“First of all,” snickers are exchanged, “there is no faceoff. There will not be a boyfriend vs big brother tournament.”
“I’d win.”
“Second,” my eyes roll on their own accord, “I don’t want you soc’ stalking because I want you to meet him face to face. Because I want to be the one to introduce you to the man, I’m fired up about.”
M struggles not to smirk. “How fired up?”
“Scale?”
“Like warmies brawl or bench clearing Donny?”
“Like setting a new record for penalty minutes type of fired.”
“Daaaaamn…” escapes in a dramatically airy fashion. “That’s fucking love.”
Unbridled giddiness gets me eagerly nodding.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in love.”
“I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been.” My shoulders innocently bounce. “At least not like this.”
An intrigued hum precedes his next line of questioning, “And where exactly is the mystery bud? Better not be scrambling last minute to get your gift.”
“Doubt it.” Knowing exactly where he is and where he can’t be leads me to cleverly announcing. “He has to work late today.”
Which is very true.
Just like my big brother does.
“He better not miss your fucking birthday.”
Holding in a hiccup is almost impossible.
“He better have some top-cheddar shit that you text me all about.”
I adjust the angle of the phone in hope it hides the action I’m struggling to conceal.
“Shouldn’t you be getting your head in the game and out of my love life?” I teasingly scold.
“Probably,” M lightly laughs. “Puck drops still a bit away. Shit part about playing in Cali.”
An alert cuts into the chat informing me that Thayne is trying to call prompting me to say, “Well, I’ve gotta take this call coming in, but I’ll be rooting and watching later just like always.”
“Just like always,” he adoringly echoes. “Big love.”
“Bigger love.”
Ending his chat to begin one with my boyfriend swiftly occurs as does his immediately blowing of the purple, plastic kazoo I gave him along with the singing of my favorite version of “Happy Birthday”.
I grin super wide and clap along and bounce my yellow scrub covered body to the familiar beat.
Once he’s finished, he blows the noisemaker again and declares, “Happy birthday, Gillybean!”
“Thank you, Jukes!”
“Can we agree that Stevie Wonder’s version is sticks down the best version of all time?”
“We can.”
“Can we also agree the fact that he wrote it as part of his campaign to make MLK’s birthday a national holiday is amazin’?”
“Again…we can.” An impressed expression creeps into my gaze. “And it is quite amazing for you to know that.”
“You surprised that I do?”
“Nope.”
“Because you know me.”
“I do know you.”
“And I hope I know you, Gillybean,” he mischievously states at the same time he pops a yellow jellybean into his mouth. “You jus’ get home?”
Gahhhhhh, I love that we call his house home.
My own place is actually beginning to feel less and less that way.
I will say I think Owlfonso misses me as much as I miss him, though.
“I did. I basically just pulled in the driveway.”
“Perfect.” The grin he’s growing continues to do so. “Take us inside, birthday queen.”
“Us?”
“Yeah,” Thayne proudly chuckles, frame moving around his hotel room, likely looking for one of his shoes.
Irony of course, being the yelling he does about Bronny losing his own shoes.
“Plannin’ to stay on chat with you ‘til pick up.” Grabbing my work bag is followed by me exiting my vehicle, an action that has him asking, “Bronskie already at the Skudders?”