Page 45 of Rookie Season
Something seems to press against my chest, and I rub at the ache there. “Ahh, so you guys hooked up.” I clear my throat, trying not to seem bothered by it. But I’m really, really bothered by it.
“What?” Fisher slows, turning toward me with his brow furrowed. “No. We were never like that. I can have platonic relationships with women, asshole.” He scoffs, clearly annoyed by my accusation.
I breathe a sigh of relief that I hope he thinks is fromrunning and catching my breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
Fisher studies me, keeping his gait steady as a slow smirk begins to spread over his face. “Ooh,” he says, laughing to himself. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”
I slow to a stop, planting my hands on my hips. “See what?”
Fisher stops, too, but he’s still smirking. “You’re into her.”
“No, I’m not,” I say, my defensive tone belying my statement.
“Yes, you are. Nothing to be embarrassed about, dude. Ally’s the best.”
“No,” I insist again. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t bring some crazy rando to live in our loft.”
He shakes his head, leaning toward me and patting me hard on the shoulder. “Sure, Downsby. Whatever you say.” Fisher takes off running again, laughing every step of the way.
I watch him, too annoyed to start chasing after him.
“I’m not into her!” I yell.
He waves me off with one hand and keeps running.
With a groan, I finally get my feet moving but don’t try to catch up to him. I think I need silence for the rest of this run.
I’m the last one to make it back to the loft, and when I stride inside, huffing and puffing like a six-pack-a-day smoker or something, Fisher is excitedly opening a box while Penn and Ally look on in curiosity.
“What’s that?” I ask, grabbing the back of my shirt and tugging it over my head then using it to wipe at the sweat pouring down my neck and face. I do it without thinking, and when I open my eyes, I find Ally’s gaze on my bare chest. My stomach does a strange flip. She pulls her bottomlip into her mouth, and damn if that little movement doesn’t make me want to draw that full lip of hers intomymouth instead and see what she tastes like. Sweet, I’d guess. Like the cookies she made.
When she finds me watching her, a red hue that has nothing to do with exercise moves up Ally’s chest and face. She quickly looks away. I struggle to hold back my smile. It’s hard not to feel smug when a gorgeous woman looks at you like that.
But deep down, I know it’s becauseAllywas looking at me, not just any beautiful woman.
Because damn it, Fisher was right. I am into her.
Way too into her.
I turn my attention back to Fisher as he finally gets the giant box open. The man literally squeals like a teenage girl. “They’re here!”
“What’s here?” I ask again, not sure if I really want to know.
“Our Halloween costumes!” Fisher says as he pulls one of the garments from the box. It’s a black, pinstripe suit with a wide 1920s style suit collar, complete with a bazooka. There are three others in the box just like it. Fisher reaches back inside the box, grabbing one of the bazookas and tossing it to me.
“What the puck?” I demand.
“Mobster costumes.” Fisher looks way too happy. “You know because of those old gangster movies we all love.”
I catch the plastic weapon with a roll of my eyes. “I’m an adult, Fisher. I’m not going trick or treating.”
He scoffs, handing Penn a suit. “We’re not going trick or treating. A longtime friend of my family owns Deja Vu.” He raises his eyebrows knowing the name of the restaurant will get our attention. It’s a San Francisco institution, frequentedby celebrities andactualnepo babies—one of those places that’s booked up years in advance and is impossible to get into.
“Davidson invited us to his swanky Halloween party. He decks the place out every year with dim lighting and all-out decor. The place goes from an upscale eatery to a semi-haunted Victorian mansion.”
“Semi?” Penn asks, posing with his bazooka even though he’s probably never held a gun in his life.
“You know,” Fisher says. “Spooky but not scary.”
