Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Hemi
Seriously.
No one will buy that.
Dallas
No, no one would buy that you’ve been in love with me for years.
A picture of the two of us follows.
Dallas
Does my smile not say madly in love?
Hemi
That smile says too much whiskey. I’m telling them you came to my place and professed your undying love.
Dallas
Whatever story you tell, I will corroborate.
Hemi
You may live to regret that.
Dallas
I survived the clowns and the sauerkraut pierogies—nothing is as bad as that.
Hemi
*evil cackling GIF*
You are so fucked, Dallas.
Dallas
I know. See you at the Watering Hole. I look forward to whatever you decide to dish out.
I don’t respond, just grab my purse and leave the office. Twenty minutes later, I’m tucked into a booth with Shilpa, Rix, Hammer, Tally Vander Zee, and Dred Reformer.
Tally’s dad is the head coach of the Terror. She interned with me last year, too, and is heading to university in the fall. She’s part of our Badass Babe Brigade, and we adore her. Dred lives in the same building as Rix’s brother, Flip Madden. She works at the local library and has been folded into our group over the past year. Like me, she wasn’t raised by her birth parents. Unlike me, she wasn’t adopted and spent her childhood shuttled from foster home to foster home. It takes a while to get to know her—I’m still working on it—but she’s a super interesting person.
“This is so exciting! I can’t believe you and Dallas are finally a thing.” Tally does an excited seat shimmy. Her dad was nowhere near that thrilled when I got called in to meet with upper management this morning. Coach Vander Zee can have a very intense face.
I try not to frown. “Finally a thing?”
She folds her hands together and props her chin on them. “We’ve all seen the way—” She flinches. “I mean, I’m just excited. Everyone is falling in love.”
I glance around the table. Rix is rubbing her lips, and Hammer is biting hers together. Dred’s eyebrow is arched, and Shilpa is doing a terrible job of suppressing a smile.
“We’ve all seen the way what?” I try to cross my arms, but we’re sitting in the booth and my boobs are big, so it’s impossible.
“The way you and Dallas look at each other, of course. It was only a matter of time with how much you’re together,” Shilpa says, helpfully digging me out of my hole.
“Oh, right. Yeah.”
“I gotta say, you’ve done a pretty solid job of making everyone believe you can’t stand him,” Dred says, voice laced with what might be skepticism.
“Yeah, well, we were fighting the draw.” That sounds ludicrous.
“Usually you want to murder him. When did that change? How did it change?” Hammer asks, apparently second command in the interrogation committee.
Although I’m grateful she seems more confused than hurt. We work together, she knows me, so pulling the wool over her eyes will be harder. I’m glad I don’t have to do that with Ash and Shilpa.
“Mostly I was trying to convince myself that my feelings hadn’t changed. But it’s recent. The feelings changing. Very recent.” Like this morning recent. God, I suck at this.
I mentally run through all the different promo ops I’ve done with Dallas. There are dozens to choose from. Once he had an allergic reaction, so I fold that into our origin story.
“He came to my place because he was stressing over one of his promo ops.” He usually texts compulsively the night before. “He couldn’t sit still, so he started cooking, because it calms him.” This is good. I can filter in some truth. “I used to think he was sucking up when he brings sweets to promo ops, but now I know it’s because he had a bake-off the night before.” I’m rambling, and I need to get a grip. Too many details will make the lie harder to remember. “Anyway, Dallas was in the kitchen.”
“What was he making?” Tally asks.
I scramble for a second. “Homemade cheese and potato pierogies, with fried onions.”
“Those are my favorite,” Dred says.
“I love the sweet cottage cheese ones.” Hammer sighs.
“I like the ones with jalapeños,” Shilpa says.
“I like the cherry ones,” Tally adds.
“We should have a pierogi-making party,” Rix suggests.
“Agreed,” Hammer says and motions to me. “Continue with your story.”
“I didn’t have butter, so Dallas made do with oil. Except it was a bottled coconut oil blend, which he’s allergic to.” I discovered this at a church fundraiser. He had a reaction that required a boatload of Benadryl and a several-hours-long nap in my car. “He must have touched his face because his lip swelled, and then he broke out in hives.” That’s exactly what happened at the church. One second he was pretty Dallas, and the next he looked like something out of a weird horror movie. “He started to panic. He was dancing all over the kitchen, and I have a gas stove.” I draw from another incident that happened in my building, several months back. “He bumped into the cookbook and his shirt caught on fire. I had to tackle him to the floor and smother him with a blanket.”