Page 33 of The Fantasy League
Mae jumped up from her seat and squealed in excitement. “I have to call Lea!”
“I swear to God if you guys are placing bets on me again, I’m going to lose it.”
Those stupid bitches wouldn’t stop placing bets on me. The week before they’d placed a bet to see which one of them I’d respond to first when they both texted me at the same time with 911 emergencies.
Obviously, Mae won. She was my sister after all.
“It’s not much of a bet if we both want the same outcome.”
“Calm down. It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with him. We’re just friends.”
“If you say so…” Her words dropped off at the end and her lips turned up into an obnoxious grin that made me narrow my eyes at her. “It’s just that everyone who claims they’re ‘just friends’ are never actually just friends.”
Okay, in any other circumstances I probably would’ve agreed with her, but that wasn’t the case with Abel and me. Even if I maybe,sort of kinda just a little, formed a tiny crush on him last night.
Damn him for being such a freaking gentleman.
“You’ll never guess who I saw last night… yourbestfriend in the entire world.” I not so subtly changed the subject in an attempt to get her off my case.
“You looked in a mirror? I’m so proud of you, sweetie.”
“You’re an idiot.” I rolled my eyes and passed her my tray so she could eat my leftover onion rings. “Abel and I ran into October at the party.”
“Revolting.” Mae pretended to retch.
Maybe it was the newfound crush talking, but I could’veswornI picked up on a spark of jealousy between Abel and October last night too.
Not that Abel would ever have anything to worry about since we both agreed we wouldn’t see other people while we were “dating” each other. Plus, October was more like a brother; just the thought of the two of us going on a date sent chills across my skin.
Mae and October had hated each other since we were kids, and apparently, some things would never change.
Anytime I mentioned I was going to hang out with him now that he was back in town, she’d pretend to vomit, immediately followed by some lame excuse about how she couldn’t join us.
Once she even lied and told me that her dog was sick… she didn’t even have a freaking dog. If anyone would know if she had a dog, it was me, the person who lived in herbackyard.
“What’d you do with the dress?” she questioned, quickly changing the subject like I knew she would.
I nodded toward the fireplace with a wicked smile playing at my lips.
TEN
SCARLETT
Abeland I had officially been friends for one whole week and I hadn’t resorted back to hating him yet. According to my therapist, I was making progress with extending grace toward Abel and actively participating in our friendship.
We talked every morning for approximately twenty minutes while he ate his breakfast before leaving for practice. It was nothing more than basic chitchat, but weirdly enough, I started looking forward to it every day.
I was ashamed to admit that when coming down the stairs this morning, I had to conceal a smile on my face.
I confessed to my therapist about the ruse and gave her all the nitty-gritty details—given that whole doctor-patient confidentiality rule, it felt like a safe space.
Plus, she’d heard me whine on and on about my disdain toward him for months, and she’d probably ask me a list of inquisitive questions if she found out from a news source before hearing it from my lips.
Although I was proud of the progress I felt I was making when it came to forgiving Abel, I was alittleupset when my therapist gave me homework—which was to initiate hanging out with Abel. She said it would show him that I was making amutualeffort toward our newfound friendship.
And that’s how I found myself sitting on one of Abel’s barstools, patiently waiting for him to get home from midmorning practice. I’d finished his turkey burger and mixed vegetable meal preps for the weekend half an hour ago and in the meantime, I had a lengthy panic-induced pace and started a batch of cookies that I was now watching bake in the oven.
The door handle jiggled, signaling his arrival. I turned to look over my shoulder to greet him. “Hi.” I smiled, taking in his sweat-stained shirt and the heap of disheveled curls on top of his head. He usually showered at the training facility before coming home, but today must have been an exception.
