Page 100 of The One Night Dash
Killer grins. “Yeah, man, we’re thinking of subletting your room.”
I shake my head, towel slung around my neck. “Can’t help it if I’ve got better company.”
That gets the expected groans, but before they can really sink their teeth in, Moretti clears his throat.
“Listen up … I’m gonna propose tonight. At Icehouse. Win or lose, I want you all there after the game. Bring your girls.”
The room goes still for a beat … then erupts—whistles, claps, shouts of approval.
“Gotta win it then,” Killer says, clapping him on the back.
“Savannah’s covered,” Koa adds. “Old man Paul’s got her at my place No excuses.”
It’s all lined up—game, proposal, celebration. Just one thing left …
“Show us the ring, man.”
His expression is blank.
“You don’t just wing this shit,” Koa grumbles.
“I mean, technically, he does.” Killer chuckles.
“Fuck you.” Moretti points at him.
“All right, ease up. We got this covered like a red dress the night before a wedding.” I laugh as I ditch the towel and grab my bag. “Let’s roll. I got a replacement bed being delivered at noon.”
Faulker chuckles. “You broke her bed?”
“That ain’t shit. I stole her heart, too.”
By eleven fifteen, we’re wedged in traffic, Joel inching the SUV forward. Moretti’s in the front seat, leg bouncing like he’s about to take a face-off. Killer, Faulkner, and Koa all have their phones out, scrolling through jeweler websites, shoving options in his face.
“You’re sure tonight’s the night?” Faulkner asks.
“Positive,” Moretti mutters. “Icehouse feels right. She deserves this.”
“All right then,” Koa says, flicking through images. “Halo, solitaire, vintage. What’s Claudia’s style?”
“Simple,” Moretti says instantly. “No flash. She wouldn’t wear something gaudy.”
Killer points at a rock that looks like it could blind half of Manhattan. “So, not this one.”
The car erupts with laughter, but my eyes snag on a round solitaire, a nice-sized rock, a gold band, clean and timeless.
I tap Koa’s screen. “That. It’s perfect. She’ll wear it every day. Looks like it belongs on her already.”
Moretti studies it, swallows hard, then nods. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
Koa locks it in, confirmation screen flashing green. “Done. They’ll hold it for two hours. We’ll swing by for pickup.”
Just then, my phone buzzes.
Noelle
Bed arriving at 11:30.
That’s like in ten minutes; we’re never gonna make it in this traffic.
