Page 77 of Delay of Game

“Jesus, Al. Can’t you cancel it?”

“No, apparently it’s nonrefundable. And I don’t have that kind of money to just throw around.”

“I’ll pay for it, just cancel if you want.”

“No, I’m not gonna take your money,” I say, a little annoyed that he would offer but grateful at the same time. Annoying older brother figures, always there ready to protect.

“Okay, so …”

I wait for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, I supply, “So …?”

“So do it.”

“What??”

“It sounds like your drunk subconscious was telling you to do some research. For your book, of course. So do it,” he says, matter-of-fact. Um, who is this person?

“Eli, are you feeling okay? Aren’t you usually against impulsive decisions, especially ones that are made under the influence?”

“Usually,” he muses. “But I don’t know, maybe you should get outside of your comfort zone. I’ve recently found that it’s good for you.”

“Hm, interesting. I mean, you’re not wrong, this would be a good research opportunity.”

“Problem solved, then?”

I sigh and accept my fate. I guess it is.

“Sounds like it. Are you coming home for Christmas?”

“Most likely. Depends on the game schedule.”

“All right, love you. Say hi to Ash for me.”

“Love you too,lapsi. Ash will have a field day when I tell him about this.” Eli chuckles.

Of course he will.

I nervously pacearound the apartment, tidying up pillows and fixing my hair and makeup every five minutes. Sam texted that they are running a few minutes late and as if I wasn’t nervous enough, now I have even more time to overthink this whole thing.

The silky black robe I have on does nothing to keep me warm, so I rub my arms with my palms, warding off the chill that threatens to overtake me. I would turn the heat up, but I don’t want to be all sweaty for the photoshoot.

There’s a knock at the front door and I jump up, startled. It takes me longer than it should to walk the few steps over there and open it.

“Alice?”

“Um, yes?”

“I’m Sam,” the guy in the hallway says, and I blink at him a couple times. Why did I assume Sam was a woman?

“Right, nice to meet you, Sam,” I recover, opening the door wider to let him step inside. I poke my head in the hallway and look around, praying that Jordan has practice today and that he’s not anywhere near my apartment when I’m taking racy pictures with a complete stranger.

Except, maybe I should be worried that I’m in my apartment with some random person, one I didn’t expect to be of the male sex when I decided to go through with this plan.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask, adjusting my robe and making sure it covers everything.

Sam looks me up and down with an inscrutable expression and says, “No, I’ll start setting up lighting. I assume we’re doing this in the bedroom?”

My brain short-circuits at the word “bedroom,” and I just stare at him, wide-eyed and, frankly, a little panicked. What is he expecting to do?

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