Page 253 of Call the Shots
“Bear—” she gasped. “Hickey?—”
“I know.” I trailed my tongue along the bite mark. “That’s why I’m doing this.”
“Oh,fuck.”
She tasted so fucking good—she tasted likemine.I hummed, content, and a realization struck me. Some…weird sensation that I’d already been in this moment before but…
I kissed her again. “I feel like…this is a scene I’ve seen in a movie I haven’t watched yet.” I frowned, trying to piece it together. “Like we’ve done this before but…later?”
“Like déjà vu for the future?” she whispered.
“Yeah. Exactly like that.”
“No, you don’t.” June pushed me away. “Ihave that feeling.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“No, I’m not. That is so weird…like, we both…?”
“It’s kind of hot,” I admitted.
June burst into laughter, cupping my jaw. “Is this you being cute by copying me? Or is this some weird stars-aligned thing?”
“No idea.” I grinned, knowing the answer. “I guess we have to wait and see.”
CHAPTER 93
JUNE
EPILOGUE: THE OKAPI CUT SCENE
Before the endof our senior year, Bear signed his contract for the Boston Bulldogs. He was anxious about it—he signed in March and panicked about our two months apart—but after years of on-and-off relapsing, I had hard-earned stretch marks, shinier hair from eating more, and a great support system of friends and family who knew about my struggles and wanted to see me happy and healthy. I pushed him to Boston knowing I’d be fine.
I’d never forget getting the video call with Bear grinning at the camera, flashing his new jersey.
Number forty on the Boston Bulldogs lineup.
No,I didn’t ask him to pick that, and despite the Gladiators begging me for the story, Bear and I never told anyone what his jersey number meant.
In May, I graduated, and Bear moved me to Boston into a condo that he conveniently rented by my new law school. The time went so quickly. His season began and he was on the road most of the time and my days were slammed with classes and internships. Busy times a thousand.
I went to his games, he took me out to dinners to celebrate my case-reading workshops, I wore my Forty jersey everywhere,he repaired my bookshelf when my textbooks literally collapsed it. On the rare occasion our schedules matched up, we knew how to spend it—sleeping for a twelve-hour thunderstorm video, with melatonin gummies and his hand up my shirt.
For our first Bostonian Christmas, we decided to spend none of it in Boston. Our month was drawn on the whiteboard in our kitchen. I followed him to hockey games, we’d spend his free weekend at his cousins’ place in Canada, actual Christmas with my family, and the following free days back in Canada.
It was crazy, chaotic, but I was so grateful.
At his aunt’s place, I walked through the kitchen with my cup of hot chocolate, searching for the Moreaus. They’d disappeared while I was engrossed in a textbook, and I’d glanced up to realize everyone was gone.
“Bear?” I called, confused. “AJ? Jillian?”
“We’re in the den!” Bear replied. “Why don’t you join us?”
Ooo…that sounded suspicious. His cousins weren’t above pranks. I studied for booby traps, shuffling across the carpet. “Does someone have silly string? Should I be concerned?”
Bear sat on the couch, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his lips. He’d grown out a post-five o’clock scruff for Christmas and I loved it. It would’ve been hard not to drool over him anyway with his thick Christmas sweater, looking oh-so domestic.
“Is she coming?!” AJ screamed, running into view. “JUNE!”
