Page 27 of Game On
“Definitely.” I nod, rubbing my palm along my thigh. My hands are clammy. “It’ll be good to get into a routine again. Keep me focused. Will, uh, will next weekend be your first time at a football game? You know, with the squad and all?”
“Not exactly. We have American football at Oxford.”
I crack a smile. “No shit?”
“Yeah, we even have our own Varsity Bowl. I think there are about … six games total in a season.”
I grin. “Brutal.”
She huffs a laugh. “Extremely.”
“And your old squad cheered for them?”
“For major events, yeah,” she says, and I notice a subtle shift in her demeanor. A glazed-over look in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t exactly relish the experience.
“Not your cup of tea?”
“Ella’s already jonesing for the competition season,” Gabi interjects, tossing an arm over her roommate’s shoulders. “Spirit squad doesn’t quite meet her standards.”
“Oh, come off it. I’m biding my time as well as I can,” Ella says. “Besides, there are regional competitions in December. That’s not very far off.”
“Three and a half months,” I mumble under my breath.
Her eyes narrow. “What was that, Hudson?”
“No, I actually agree with you,” I say. “It’s closer than you’d think.”
Her brow softens, and she leans back against the couch. “Good to know we’re on the same page about something.”
Levi returns before I have the chance to ask her what she means. He’s balancing a massive waffle bowl filled to the brim with mint chocolate ice cream, and the tiniest little butterscotch cone I’ve ever seen.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
He hands it over, nonplussed. “Your ice cream, Hudsy. Can I get a thank you?”
“Did you not hear me saying I wanted a cup?”
“Oh, well, you can have my bowl when I’m done with the waffle part.”
I hold up the minuscule cone. “But … why is it so tiny?”
“What? Nah, that,” he holds his fingers up to measure about three inches. “That’s huge.”
I snort, and the women across from us give him some form of pity laughter. Levi thinks he’s being funny, self-deprecating in a charming way, but we all know a man that size wouldn’t dare joke about it. Unfortunately, I’ve seenwhat he’s packing, and it’s not comparable to the teeny-tiny cone in my hand.
“It’s Friday night,” I grumble. “I just finished writing over three thousand words, and my brain is officially fried. Can we save the dick jokes for later?”
“Buzzkill.” He squeezes back into a spot on the couch—this time smack dab in the middle—and takes an exaggerated lick from his spoon. “You know what you need right now?”
“An adult-sized ice cream?”
He tosses one arm over Sammy’s shoulders, and his other over Gabi’s. “Nope. I think the five of us should drive out to the Stardust.”
Sammy perks up in her seat, tilting her head to meet Levi’s gaze. “The outdoor movie theater?”
He bops her on the nose. “That’s the one.”
I groan. “But it’s nearly an hour away.”
