Page 17 of My Merry Mistake
“That woman is terrifying,” Junior says. “I had to sign some papers for her last week, and my hand was shaking the whole time.”
“Hot and terrifying—a lethal combination.” Crosby shakes his head as he walks off toward the showers.
“So?” Jericho adjusts the towel around his waist, and I’m thankful he didn’t drop it completely, per usual. “You gonna tell her?”
I frown. “Tell who what?”
“Tell the yoga instructor you’re in love with Hottie Hart,” Jericho says, then ducks as Dallas throws another towel at him. “Or—” he pops back, “Tell Hottie Hart you’re in love with her!”
What?I think.You mean tell her the truth?
I pull my sweats on and lie. “Not in love with her.”
“But it’s something, right?” Kemp asks. “I mean, we were all at the party?—”
“You stare at her, dude,” Krush says.
“I don’t stare?—”
“You do,” Gray says without turning around.
“I do?”
A collective laugh ripples through my teammates, each one mumbling something along the lines of “Seriously? You didn’t know this?”
I turn toward my locker. I thought I’d gotten good at hiding my . . . infatuation, but I guess not.
I fell for Raya Hart the moment I slid her drink across the bar seven years ago.
No way I’m going to tell these guys that.
And nowayI’m going to tellher. She’s so far out of my league she may as well live on Saturn.
“Plus, her sisters are hooked up with two other guys on the team,” Jericho quips. “Gotta go for the trifecta.”
“Come on, guys.” I toss the towel into a nearby bin. “She wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“That’s not a no,” Kemp points out.
I muster my most convincing look. “It’s a no.”
“Well, maybe don’t show up to her sister’s engagement party with TikTok girl,” Jericho says. “No way she’s going to take you seriously.”
“Good! I don’t want her to take me seriously,” I say. “I’m not a serious guy!”
“You’re fooling yourself, man.” Jericho shakes his head, and thankfully, reaches for his undershirt and starts to pull it on.
He and Monica got married when they were practically kids, and it’s no secret how he feels about her. They’re kind of gross—PDA wherever and whenever—but the truth is, someday, I’d like to be in a relationship like theirs. Like my parents’.
That would be the dream—a real partner. A best friend.
“We all know you’re fooling yourself,” Jericho says. “The only one who doesn’t know it is you.”
“I’m not—” and I stop. I realize they’re all looking at me. And they’ve all read me like a book.
And nothing I say is going to convince them otherwise.
Because yeah. “Fine. Yeah. I like her.”
