Page 80 of Make the Play

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, Zo.”

I can tell that’s what cracks her. Not the shouting or the confrontation. Just the truth, bare and raw. She looks away fast, avoiding the way my eyes track her.

“So instead,” she mutters, “you wanna livewithme.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

A long silence stretches between us before she sighs dramatically and murmurs, “This is a fucking terrible idea.”

“Probably,” I agree.

She shifts her weight, then lifts her chin stubbornly.

“I have rules.”

I shrug. “Hit me with your worst.”

She holds up a finger. “I listen to whale sounds before bed.”

I blink. “Like… ambient?”

“Like ocean mating season.”

“Okay. Love whales.”

“I have a very specific brand of sparkling water in the fridge at all times. If you take the last one, I will end your life.”

“Fair.”

“Do you snore?”

“No…”

She glares. “You look like you snore.”

I grin. “You look like you cuddle.”

Her lips twitch. “I hate you.”

My eyes crinkle, and I shake my head once, gently.

“No, you don’t.”

She scowls at me, and I wonder if she thinks I’m going to crack, if I’m about to get overwhelmed and backpedal, but I’m not going anywhere. Not when it comes to her.

“I talk in my sleep,” she says.

“Not surprised.”

“I use an electric kettle that screams like a banshee, and I refuse to replace it.”

“Music to my ears.”

“I—” She huffs. “I put pickles on grilled cheese.”

My lips purse together, considering. “…Okay, that one’s unholy, but I’ll recover.”

Her mouth clamps closed as she frowns, fresh out of excuses, and she stares at me for a beat.

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