The Game Plan

IvyMac: Sure I am, Cupcake. pats cheek keep dreaming the dream.

GrayG: I knew it!!! You want me bad. It’s okay, all women do.

IvyMac: Right.



A bit later…



IvyMac: Why are you borrowing my car, anyway? I find it hard to believe you don’t have your own. Is it in the shop? For-like-ever?

GrayG: My best bud Drew (he’s our QB) broke his leg. His car has a stick shift. My truck is auto. So I lent him mine and borrowed…The Pink Nightmare.

IvyMac: Gray. That’s really nice of you.

GrayG: Told you I was sweet.

IvyMac: You actually are. Totally sweet.

GrayG: Now you’re just embarrassing me. I lied. I’m a hardened thug. For realz.

IvyMac: Aw, Cupcake.

IvyMac: Gray?

IvyMac: Hello?

IvyMac: Fine, you’re a stone-cold killa. Happy?

GrayG: Yes. Although I’d prefer lady killa.

IvyMac: How about Sir Fucksalot?

GrayG: Hi-larious! Really. Night, Special Sauce.

IvyMac: Night, G-Man. ;-*



Several text exchanges after that…



GrayG: I’m bored. Talk to me. Again. Heh. Heh.

IvyMac: Soup has got to be the best thing ever. It’s an entire meal in a bowl! But in hot liquid form.

GrayG: Hot liquid form…? Unh. I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl, Ivy Mac. Or did someone tell you that soup was my favorite meal?

IvyMac: You love soup too?!? Soup-lovers’ fist bump! Booyah!

GrayG: Booyah! And, baby, I make the best soup you’ll ever taste.

IvyMac: Oooh, talk to me, Grayson. Just. Like. That.

GrayG: Marry me, Mac.

IvyMac: Okay, but only for the soup.



A few minutes later…



GrayG: Why is six scared of seven?

IvyMac: Why?

GrayG: Because seven “ate” nine.

IvyMac: Hur! How do you count cows?

GrayG: How?

IvyMac: With a cowculator.

GrayG: So awesomely bad. I think you have to marry me now. No one else likes my jokes.

IvyMac: Good to know my bad taste in jokes is a selling point.

GrayG: It’s fucking sexy. I’m actually sporting wood.

GrayG: Mac?

GrayG: Hey, I was kidding. I’m not trying to hit on you, I swear.

GrayG: Mac?!?

IvyMac: I’m here. Sorry! I’m on the tube. Lost you in a tunnel.

GrayG: Okay. Cool. Got worried.

IvyMac: Naw. I know you were just being you.

GrayG: That’s me, always joking. Gotta head out to practice. Txt U when I’m done.



Later that day…



IvyMac: I spent the entire morning baking bread and thinking about your name.

GrayG: My name? Honey, if you’re going to think about me, concentrate on my gigantic…hands. Magic hands, baby. The things I can do with these hands are mind-boggling.

IvyMac: Like palm balls all day long?

GrayG: >:-(

IvyMac: Heh. Heh. Your name is way more interesting than your penchant for ball handling.

GrayG: Har. Gray Grayson is a special kind of torture to inflict on a kid. What can I say? My mom was reading The Pelican Brief right before I was born. Decided to name me after the hero Gray Grantham. No one could change her mind. I used to hate it. But now I love it because she picked a name she loved.

IvyMac: It’s a cool name. Bounces in my head: Gray-Grayson. Gray-Grayson!

GrayG: Hands, Mac. Think about the hands.

IvyMac: Gray-Grayson, grabbing balls with his big, strong hands…!

IvyMac: Hello?

IvyMac: Hello?

IvyMac: Spoilsport.



And a few hours after that…



IvyMac: I can’t sleep. Talk to me.

GrayG: Why can’t you sleep?

IvyMac: Because it’s nine-fucking-thirty. I have to go to sleep early because I have to get up early. Have I mentioned how much I hate getting up early?

GrayG: Aside from the three times in that text? Yeah, a bit. ;-) I run plays through my head when I can’t sleep.

IvyMac: Yep. That should do it. I’m glazing over just thinking about it. Thanks, Cupcake.

GrayG: Glad to be of service, honey. You can always count on me.

IvyMac: You’re starting to be the first person I turn to. If that freaks you out, tell me. I’ll dial it down.

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