Page 97 of Playing With Danger

“Hey.”

“You’re alive,” he returned. “I see how it is, you get a man and dump me.”

Thankfully he was laughing, but the fact remained it was Saturday, a few days after Khloe’s peace offering and tacos, and I hadn’t seen or talked to him since then.

I looked at Valentine and said to Hayden, “Sorry, Winslow. I’ll talk to Valentine. We’ll spend the night at ours. We can have a pizza and movie night.”

“Pass. You’re finally gettin’ it regular. Please do not bring that noise to the apartment. The walls are thin.”

“No shit. I’ve heard you hundreds of times. I think you’ll live or do what I do and sleep with earbuds in.”

Valentine’s lips twitched.

“I have ear sensitivity, that won’t work. Besides, I was just giving you shit but an invite to Valentine’s place wouldn’t go unappreciated.”

Ugh. Was it socially acceptable to invite someone over and tell them their booty call wasn’t welcome?

“I’ll ask Valentine his schedule this week and work out something, okay?”

“Good. I’m calling because your mom came by again. This time begging me to have you call her. She said it was imperative she speak to you.”

Her idea of imperative and mine were two different things.

“I’ll call her tomorrow. I’m getting ready to walk into a cookout with Valentine’s team. I don’t want to go in there in a bad mood.”

“Damn, Huxley. Meeting the friends. Nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell your man I said what’s up and he’s slacking. I haven’t seen him since the last time I kicked his ass at the center.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Later.”

I tossed my phone in my purse.

“Summary report: Hayden wants an invite over to your house for dinner. He says to tell you hi and you’re slacking at the center. Also, my mother stopped by the house again and has upped the drama saying it’s imperative I call her.”

“Shoulda already said this; Hayden, or anyone you want for that matter, is welcome at the house anytime.”

Hayden or anyone I want?

“What’s happening?”

Steel-blue turned stormy when he leaned in closer.

“What’s happening is we’re falling in love. We’re fighting for this. And while we’re doing that I’m going to do everything I can to get you to keep packing bags and staying the night until you come to the conclusion it’d be easier to just hang your shit in my closet and clean out whatever drawers you need.”

Easier to hang my clothes in his closet?

I was fighting against hyperventilating. We’d only been together… I gave up mathing in my head when I started getting lightheaded.

“You want me to move in?” I whispered, not trusting my voice.

“Today if I could talk you into it.”

Today?

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