Page 69 of Dream Chaser
“What would be better than finding a best friend who you share the hottest sexual chemistry with, who likes the same damn things on their burger and straight up adores who you are, and all you will and want to do?”
Fucking swoon.
“Question?”
“Sure?” I question.
“Do you have a TV. And tell me you’d totally watch highlights with me, because I was otherwise occupied last night and all day. I’d really like to see what that fucking game looked like from a different angle.”
Chapter 16
Almost Busted
Griffon
The first thing I hear is Iz groaning.
The second is the low rumble of voices outside the bedroom.
Then …
“Shit.Shit. Shit!”
She launches upright, her hair an actual crime scene of tangles and chaos, but still sexy as hell. The blanket drops, and I try not to look at everything I shouldn’t be looking at—but I do. Of course I do. Because I’m a man, not a monk.
She’s across the room in two seconds flat, scrambling for a hoodie while simultaneously shoving my leg under the covers. “Do not move. Do not make a sound. And if you breathe too loud, I swear to God I will suffocate you with that pillow.”
I salute her, mouth twitching. “Morning to you, too, sunshine.”
The bedroom door clicks shut a split-second before voices echo in Iz’s place. Male voices. Loud. Friendly. Military sharp with small-town charm and absolutely zero volume control.
I lean back, hands behind my head, and listen to what’s going on.The boys are here.
CJ says, “Izzy girl, you in there?”
Matthew’s voice interrupts. “We brought donuts. And an industrial-sized container of black coffee to welcome you,just you, to the neighborhood.”
Shit, shit, shit is right.
Remington adds, “Also a shovel. Not for snow. For burying whatever poor bastard you dragged home from the internet.”
Iz snaps, “Are you three out of your fu?—”
“Please say it’s not another banjo-playing folk singer named Zane,” CJ cuts Iz off.
Matthew chuckles. “Zayn with a Y. And a ‘this song is about the moon and capitalism’ SoundCloud account.”
Remington huffs, “He wore moccasins in winter. I haven’t recovered.”
CJ takes over. “Or what about that one guy—what was his name? Teddy? Told you he was a vegetarian then ordered steak on your second date and said it was a blood moon ritual and cows were ‘spiritual sacrifices.’”
Matthew again, “Or the yoga bro. The one who said deodorant ‘clogged his natural aura’ and told you women shouldn’t wear bras because ‘the patriarchy?’”
Remington snarls, “You datedthatguy?”
CJ gives a sharp, “Yep, she did. Briefly. Until he tried to convince her to open a kombucha stand out of the back of his Prius.”
“Swear to God above, you three?—”
