“Back!” Blake bounced down the stairs.
Gabi gave me a look that said this was far from over before slowly unwrapping one of the Krackel bars and shoving the damn thing in her mouth.
“No sharing?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Nope,” Gabi answered, mouth full of chocolate. “Get your own.”
“I bought it.”
“And we’re poor college students, so . . .” Gabi grinned.
The front door slammed. Suddenly Lex appeared from the hall holding up two giant bags of groceries. “If you ever”—he swore violently—“and I do mean ever, send me to the store to get tampons again, I’m going to have sex in your bed with a complete stranger, take selfies, blow them up to poster size, and plaster them to your ceiling.”
He dropped the bags onto the counter. A box of tampons fell out.
I smirked. “Errand boy.”
“Suck it,” Lex grumbled. “At least I know where they are. Last time Gabs sent you, you had to ask for directions, ended up hitting on the salesclerk, and never made it back to the house.”
I stole a glance at Blake’s expression. She was smiling, but it was forced, and suddenly all of my past bangs seemed more like past sins, past wrongs, something that made me less in her eyes.
“Thanks, man,” I said under my breath.
“Any time.” Lex rubbed his hands together. “Am I manning the grill, Gabs? Or did you grow a penis within the last twelve hours?”
Blake gave me a confused look.
I explained with a smirk. “Only boys can man the grill. It says so.”
“Where?” Gabi asked, pulling the giant grill spatula from the drawer and hiding it behind her back.
“On the instructions when we’re born,” I said, faking a dumbfounded expression. “It’s Life 101. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if you girls even went to elementary school.”
Lex barked out a “hah,” then stole the spatula from Gabi and marched outside with the plate of burgers and hot dogs.
“He’s such a gem, that one,” Gabi huffed out as she started pulling out all the condiments.
“A true gentleman,” I said, just as a volleyball sailed toward my head. I barely ducked in time. “What the hell?”
Blake grinned. “You down for a little game, boy?”
Staggered, I stared at her dumbly. “Did you just call me . . . ‘boy’?”
Another spike in my direction.
“That’s it.” I grabbed the ball and marched outside. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but Blake, I was in the NFL—I can play all sports.”
Lex coughed.
“Except golf.”
He coughed again.
“And I think it’s already been established that ice-skating shouldn’t count.”
Lex held up his hands, then went back to flipping burgers.
“Your serve.” I bumped the ball in Blake’s direction. “Ladies always first. I’m a gentleman on the court and in bed—lucky you.”
“Oh wow. Thanks,” Blake said sarcastically. “Let me just get comfortable.” Her top came off.
I smelled something burning.
“Lex,” I yelled. “Man the burgers. I got this!”
“Sorry.” He turned back around.
I stared at her tan, muscled skin as she stretched her arms above her head and put her hair in a high ponytail. Her jeans were still on, but hanging so low on her hips a cop should ticket her. And the plain black sports bra just . . . for some reason . . . looked hot.
Damn hot.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Clearly someone’s trying to cheat.” I pointed at her stomach.
“Oh, this?” She shrugged. “Don’t want to get sweat on my shirt. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure I do.” I peeled my shirt off and tossed it onto the ground. “I understand perfectly.”
I flexed what I’d been told on several occasions by numerous women, including a few professors, was my eight-pack.
Her eyes widened.
“Pissing match, party of two,” Lex yelled.
Gabi came running.
Oh, good—an audience.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“You know it’s physically impossible to play one-on-one volleyball against me, right?” I smirked, tossing the ball into the air—once, twice—actually feeling a little sorry for her future loss. Maybe I’d buy her more chocolate, lessen the blow a bit.
“Sure. Okay.” Blake’s face was impassive. I couldn’t read her at all. Was this what her opponents felt like all the time? My eyes narrowed. Not even a blink in my direction, or hesitation. Did she really think she was going to somehow beat me? For one, I towered over her; two, I was a guy; and three, I had balls, and I knew how to use them—well.
“Fine.” I stretched my arms above my head, the ball traveling with me in my left hand. That’s right, I was palming it.
Because I was a guy, and my hands were huge, and I could freaking spike it into her face so hard she’d probably need plastic surgery to get her nose fixed. But sure, yeah, let’s play fair. “You can serve first.”
“My money’s on Blake,” Gabi piped up from a lawn chair.