Page 16 of The Rebound
I break eye contact, instead choosing to stare at one of the beer buckets. Since I got suspended, I haven’t had a sip of alcohol, for no reason other than I haven’t had a taste for it. One beer sounds real nice right now, though. Honestly, a whole bucket and a bender sounds great.
Reeves sighs again, understanding that the conversation is over. He moves to the farthest couch to talk to Lucien again.
Thank fuck. If I never have to have that conversation ever again, it will still be too soon.
“You’re up.” Alex nods to the screen before noticing my dark expression. “Whoa, you good?”
“I’m great,” I say, masking my frustration with an easy smile. It’s what I do best. Bury that shit deep and plaster a smile on my face.
I launch off the couch and grab my driver, taking a deep breath as I line up my shot. “Fore,” I bellow, whacking the ball into the virtual green and delivering an Oscar-worthy performance of cheerfulness at the same time.
Alex claps me on the back while Tate says, “Nice shot, dude.”
Lucien steps up behind me with a sly smile. “I’m coming for you, Saint.”
I grin back.Isn’t everyone these days?
• • •
The night dies down, and I somehow make it back to my condo without going off on a bender.
As I unlock the front door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Anticipating a check-in text from Alex, I reluctantly pull it out and read it in the dark of my living room.
I’m still dreaming about that plum. Will you take me back next week?
Kinley. An irrepressible smile spreads across my face, more genuine than all the other smiles I put on tonight. I text back with fast, certain fingers.
I’ll take you every week if you want me to.
Without skipping a beat, she texts back—nothing but a red kiss emoji.
My chest swells, the weight of the night’s events evaporating into nothing. Just like that, my night has turned a complete one-eighty. And two texts from Kinley was all it took.
I’ll be damned.
6
SAINT
Over the past couple of weeks, eating dinner with Kinley has become a regular event. There’s usually some sort of reason behind each occasion. For starters, dinner is easier to make for two people, rather than paring ingredients down to a single serving. Once, I suggested we share a pizza so I didn’t eat the whole thing by myself.
But behind each very practical purpose of spending time together, there’s an unspoken understanding. We just like each other’s company. She’s definitely a cool girl, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know her.
Tonight, though, Kinley insisted on cooking for us, this time on the basis of needing to cook some shrimp that’s been sitting untouched in her fridge. I don’t need convincing, but her invitation is still one of the funniest texts I’ve ever gotten.
come over and let me feed you some crustaceans that are going to exact their revenge if I don’t cook them soon.
I text her back with a shrimp emoji, a drooling face, and a little blond running guy. She knows exactly what I mean, responding with a clock as if to say,hurry.
Texting with emojis is probably juvenile, but with Kinley, it’s like a game. Our minds are on the same wavelength more often than not, so we can communicate with a couple of symbols rather than typing out full messages. And even when I’m not sure what she’s saying, decoding the message is half the fun.
It’s not a date, but I still strip out of my smelly workout clothes, take a quick shower, and spritz a little cologne across my bare chest. I contemplate wearing a button-up and dress pants, but ultimately decide to wear a simple cotton T-shirt and dark-wash jeans. I’m not sure where things are going with Kinley, but for once, I’m trying to just go with the flow and not worry about it.
A short walk down the hall, and I’m knocking on her door. Inside, I hear her yell, “Come in,” and so I step over the welcome mat and through the unlocked door. She’s done a lot of organizing this past week and the place looks fantastic.
“Wow, it’s looking great in here. You got the TV set up. I told you I’d help with that.”
“It’s not even that big,” she calls from the kitchen.
