Page 28 of The Final Draft

“That bastard always hits a nerve. Anyway, we’ll be playing the Havoc and Demons games soon. That means more time than a quick dine and dash, amigo. I expect to see you earning your agent money by wining and dining me.”

“You know I don’t make a commission from you, right? So you’re buying.” He responds with a full-belly laugh.

“Deal. Hey, hold on.” As he turns his head, his ear fills the entire screen. I can hardly make out what someone is saying to him through his earbuds. “Aww, give Harps my love.”

He must be talking to Lawson. My mind goes awry. She has her phone near her because she’s talking to her brother, but she hasn’t returned my text. I remind myself I have to be careful with my flirting in front of Lawson. It’s going to be difficult because it’s so natural, like breathing air. Maybe I can use this to ask about Harper and Zac without sounding interested? And why hasn’t she responded to my text?

“Jules, are you listening?” Chance breaks through my wandering mind when he yells at me.

“Sorry, work thing,” I mumble.

“I get it, man. I’ll let you get to it. Make sure you have time for me when I’m in town. I am your numero uno, after all.”

“Still not bilingual,” I tease.

“Not yet, but with hard work, I can get there. You taught me that, you know.” I’ve always been Chance’s biggest cheerleader. He doesn’t need my encouragement, but appreciates it. He works hard but loves even harder. But I’m not sure languages are his thing.

“Stick to hockey.” A call from Chance always turns my frown upside down. I check my phone again for a response fromHarper. Nothing. He’s right. A little work on my part, and I can get there with Harper. Hopefully.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

HARPER

After my call with Lawson, I’m distracted. He reminded me he’d be in New York, and we’ll have an entire day to spend together between his games. I can’t wait to see him. He brought up the idea of having dinner since they will be in town for two games: New York and New Jersey, back-to-back. I suggested inviting Zac, which Lawson thought was a fantastic idea. Then he said we’d include Chance and Julian, and I seized up. That dinner has the potential for a colossal disaster, and I would be the catalyst.

I’m trying to focus, but mostly staring at a blank page on my laptop and scrolling TikTok. Social media is my go-to for inspiration when I need ideas for a story. People put their whole life out there for the world to see, and I’m not ashamed that I watch those videos. For artistic motivation, of course. I’m trying to work out what Gavin Snow’s motivation is with Charlotte, when there’s a light tap at my door.

“Come in,” I call to Zac. I’m sitting on my bed with my laptop across my legs, every pillow propped behind me. Noodleis curled up next to me, his steady breathing morphing into a light snore.

Zac enters my room with an absolutely gorgeous, to the point of obscene, display of flowers. I assume he’s behind them somewhere because it’s so large it blocks his entire upper body, and surely, they aren’t floating on thin air.

“What’s this?” I ask. He sits them down on my dresser with a firm thud, and the movement of the flowers gives off an overwhelming fragrance, making me feel like I’m in a field of wildflowers on a spring day. It’s bordering on obnoxious.

Zac sneezes. “God bless you,” I say, but my blessing doesn’t erase his scowl. “What are these for?” Zac shrugs his shoulders, pulls the card from the center of the monstrosity and thrusts it at me. “I was talking to Lawson a little while ago and told him I was having writer’s block. Maybe he sent them to cheer me up.” Zac continues to scowl, not a word spoken. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him, but he needs to dial it down a notch or three. Then he tosses a white bag from the Apple store my way. Now I’m completely baffled.

He stands there and crosses his arms over his broad chest, waiting. “What?” His head nods toward the bag he gave me. He wants to know who the flowers are from, but I don’t want to do this in front of him. I’m fearful if they aren’t from Lawson, I’ll be getting more than the silent treatment from my roommate.

“I take it they aren’t from you?” His scowl deepens. “Have I told you peonies are my favorite flower?” Based on the grunt he makes, Zac obviously doesn’t care about my botanical preferences.

I swallow my nerves and open the card, sliding it out of the sealed envelope. It isn’t a standard issue florist card. It’s hefty. Expensive. I unfold it to find a handwritten note. It’s not the kind of card you get when you order over the phone. This is the kind of note you write in person, and they deliver with the order.I close my eyes and take a breath before I read, keenly aware my every movement, expression, word, is being scrutinized by the hockey player studying me.

The handwriting is neat and masculine.

Gorgeous,

I wasn't sure if there was a problem with your phone or if you were ghosting me, so I thought I’d contact you another way. Dinner with me tonight?

Julian

PS- I got you a new phone because, clearly, it’s option one. Fingers crossed its option one.

I pull the note to my chest and giggle, my nervousness forgotten. I wasn’t ignoring him. Not really. I’m conflicted about how to answer. I need to focus on my writing project. But based on these flowers, there’s no way I can ignore this man. I pull the box from the bag and find the latest iPhone. The lock screen is Julian on his knees, hands together, begging. Even when he’s goofing around, he’s incredibly sexy. I want to thread my fingers through his hair and tame those waves. But when it comes to Julian, there’s no taming him. And do I really want to? His spontaneity and fun personality are super-hot.

The new phone has one text notification.

DINNER?

---