Page 33 of Empty Net

Another shrug, likethisisn’t a big deal either, when again, it is. I have a feeling he does that a lot—big things that don’t feel big to him. He’s just that kind of guy.

I decide I like that about him. I like that he’s good, that he’s nice. I’ve never dated a nice boy, let alone fake dated areallynice one.

We clean up from our impromptu breakfast, and Fox even rinses his cup in the sink before placing it upside down in mydishwasher. He goes as far as to top off my coffee with the rest of the brew in the carafeandadds just enough creamer to it again. It’s weird how comfortable it all seems, like we’ve done this every morning for years.

When I walk him to my door, he stops, and I nearly crash into him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his hands coming out to steady me, and I swear my skin feels like it’s on fire under his touch.

I’m sure it’s just because I’m cold from being dehydrated.

“I hope you’re not mad at me for imposing on your call with your mom last night. I’ve had some time to reflect this morning since the vodka is out of my system and I realize it was really rude of me to throw myself into your conversation under the guise of helping you. If you don’t want me to attend the party next weekend, I won’t. I’ll bow out and call your parents myself to tell them I’m to blame for you being dateless.”

I can’t help it—I smile up at him.

“What?” he asks after several moments of me just standing there staring at him like a total creep.

“Nothing.” I brush my hair—which I’m sure is a complete mess—out of my face. “You’re right. Itwasrude, Fox. But it was incredibly sweet, and I’m good with this arrangement. In fact, I think I’d actually really like to go to the party with you.”

Both of his brows rise high. “You would?”

“Yeah.” I hold up my hand and begin ticking off the reasons on my fingers. “You’re a total gentleman, you’re a really good dancer, you look really hot in a tux, you keep me supplied with alcohol, you bring me breakfast the morning after,andyou didn’t even make a pervy comment when I showed you my ass. You’re the total package.”

Once again, his cheeks pinken, and I mentally high-five myself. I swear I could make a game out of getting him to blush.

“That’s, uh, that’s nice, Lilah. Could we circle back to the part where you said I was hot in a tux?”

I roll my eyes, then pull open my front door. “Go home, Fox. I’ll see you next weekend.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, tipping an invisible hat at me.

Not that I’d ever tell him this, but the room gets spinny again, and this time, it has nothing to do with my hangover.

CHAPTER 7

SERPENTS SINGLES GROUP CHAT

Lawson: Can we please talk about how I am STILL hungover from New Year’s?

Lawson: And how even though I’m still hungover, I AM A GOD WHO SCORED NOT ONE, NOT TWO, BUT THREE MOTHERFUCKING GOALS.

Lawson: BOW TO ME, YOU PEASANTS!

Keller: Wow. A hat trick. That’s like SO amazing, Lawsy.

Lawson: I know you typed that with the utmost sarcasm, but I also know deep down, you sincerely meant that.

Keller: I absolutely did not.

Lawson: Liar.

Hayes: I would just like to point out that you got a hatty against the goalie with the worst save percentage in the league. Just sayin’.

Lawson: Fox, weigh in here. Does it still count?

Fox: Of course it counts.

Fox: And it doesn’t make it any less hard. You should be proud of yourself, Lawsy.

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