Page 134 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“You are? Doing what?”
“Buying more cranberry juice.” He rises. “I don’t mean to be rude, but the grout is going to set with or without me. Keep the tickets. Enjoy the game, Bea.”
Chapter 40
I don’t go to the game. I don’t care a hoot about the SDSU Aztecs. I walk dogs. I walk up to the corner store and buy artisan ginger ale, which I drink outside with my fire pit lit and a stack of books to keep me company. The sun sets. The light fades. The ginger ale disappears. The glow of my fire and my books are all the company I’ll ever have.
I know it’s late, but I can’t bring myself to go inside. Inside is a nightstand stuffed with Mike’s grandma’s books. Out here, with the fire, I can almost remember what it felt like when I thought they were his.
The gate separating our halves of the property swings open, and the man himself stands there in the shadows. “Bea. You’re up. Sorry to disturb you. I saw the firelight, and it’s late.”
“You worried I fell asleep and was going to burn the place down?”
“Yes. No. I didn’t want you to be sleeping alone. I mean, with a fire.”
I snort. “Smooth, Mike.”
He slides my pile of books over and sits next to me on my outdoor sofa. “How was the game?”
“Oh, it was great. Yeah. We did the wave. Almost made it onto the jumbotron.”
“Who did you end up going with?”
“Stephen. Yeah. Friend from work. My old work. Firm. Law firm. Great guy.”
“Who won?”
“We did. Yeah. Go Aztecs.”
“I only caught the fourth quarter, but from what I saw, it was a great game.”
“Right?”
“For the Air Force.” Mike picks up one of the many empty bottles of ginger ale scattered around me and examines it like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world before putting it back with the rest. “They were up by eleven. Which you would have known if you’d been there.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. I didn’t go. I gave the tickets to Adam and Sarah and spent my Friday night reading.”
He leans forward. “Why didn’t you go to the game?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I didn’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Because I only wanted to go with you. Okay?”
He slides closer and shifts my legs until they are stretched across his lap. His hands, warm and calloused, wrap around me,cradle my neck and back. He moves slowly as he brushes his lips across my jaw.
“No.”
He freezes and then retreats. “No,” he repeats, but not without sounding completely dumbfounded and miserable.
“You’re not you.” I whine. I plead.
His brow furrows. “I am very much me.”
“But you’re not your grandmother.”
His chest is rising and falling, and still he wears confusion—adorable confusion—all across his handsome face. “Which most would appreciate in this situation.”
