Page 13 of Lucky
My rabbit thumps again, back leg smacking my thigh.
“No, I’m not being dramatic.Okay, maybe a little.But tell me what part of that screams average to you?I specifically asked for normal.”
I pull my legs up, resting my chin on my knees.“This has all the makings of a comedy, yes.But also?Disaster.A beautiful, marble-sculpted, viral train wreck disaster.”
Buttermilk stretches out beside me, clearly done with this conversation.His ears flop over and his back leg twitches once like he’s had enough of my spiraling.
“Fine,” I say, reaching for my ring light and tripod from behind the couch.“I’ll be the mature one and respond with grace and clarity.”
He opens one eye.
“Which obviously means sarcasm and a healthy dose of self-preservation.”
After shrugging out of my coat, I set up the tripod, balance the ring stand, and adjust the angle until the lighting is flattering.I run my fingers through my hair, swipe on a little lip balm, and try not to look like I’ve been having an in-depth conversation with a rabbit.
I take a breath.Then another.
“Okay,” I murmur.“Let’s do this.”
I tap record.
The screen splits with Lucky’s TikTok still rolling on the left—his cocky grin, that annoyingly symmetrical face, the glint in his eye when he says, “Challenge accepted.”
I stare into the camera, already regretting everything.
“Okay, besties.Remember how I said I wanted one decent, average guy?Like, someone who drinks regular coffee and forgets where he put his car keys and maybe has mild back pain by thirty?”
I point toward Lucky’s profile.“This is @LuckyBranson69.He’s apparently a professional hockey player.I googled him.He has the requisite six-pack of an athlete, a verified checkmark, and the face of a man who has definitely been told he’s someone’s Roman Empire.He’s apparently accepted my dating challenge.”
Cut to me again, eyes wide.
“Average?He is not.I guarantee he owns a suit tailored to his jawline.”I sigh, slumping into my couch.“As for accepting my challenge… I mean… I appreciate the offer, I really do.But this is way above my pay grade.I was thinking I would date someone with divorced CPA energy.NotExcuse me, ma’am, your jaw is on the floorenergy.”
I smile softly, biting my lip.
“So, respectfully—and with deep appreciation for the cheekbones—I’m gonna have to pass.I don’t think I’d mesh with anyone that… shiny.”I toss Buttermilk a piece of arugula.“He agrees.”
I stop the recording and add a few hashtags.#OneDecentGuy #AveragePlease #SendCPA
I don’t post it though.I’ll do it tomorrow because I have a scheduled post on the three funniest things my kindergarteners said this week, which I do religiously on Fridays, and I couldn’t possibly deny my followers that level of cuteness.
CHAPTER 5
Lucky
The clang ofweights, the low thump of music, and the sound of Penn groaning as he finishes another set would normally be enough to occupy my brain.
But not this morning.
No, ever since I woke up at six a.m., I’ve been refreshing TikTok every two minutes.I’m obsessively looking to see if WinnieTheNotWild has responded to my stitch.We’re well past the twenty-four-hour mark and there’s been nothing from her.
I hit refresh again.
Nothing.
“She’s gotta post something,” I mutter, swiping down again while perched on the edge of a bench.I’m wearing a Titans’ hoodie, but I may as well be wearing a Winnie the Pooh onesie for how much attention I’m paying to my workout right now.
“Yo.”My head pops up and Atlas tosses me a bottle of water.“If you say ‘she’ one more time without context, I’m going to bench-press you.”
