Page 51 of Wild Love
“Be nicer with the glow of a seventy-inch flat screen. I’ll never beat Rauthruss playing him on this tiny screen.” He lifts the laptop and lets it drop back to the couch cushion.
“How is he? How’s Sienna?”
“They’re good. Really good. Sienna’s teaching figure skating and yoga, and he’s running hockey camps. I’m hoping they’ll come down sometime next month if they get a break.”
“It would be good to see them before I go back to Valley. Who knows how long it will be before we’re all back together.”
“I’m not worried. You girls can’t go very long without seeing one another, and the guys won’t want to leave their girlfriends.”
“True.”
“I think if you carry the laptop and Charli, I can stand to crutch up the stairs one last time tonight. Then we’ll have TV. Charli likes TV.”
“Oh my god, you’re hopeless. Surely we can find something to do.”
We sit silently for a few seconds.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Definitely.” He follows me into the kitchen.
“All I have is wine or vodka, but I didn’t get a mixer.”
“We’ll chase the vodka with the wine.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Or a really great, fun idea. Come on, what else do you have going on?”
The answer to that is nothing, and two hours later, I’m drunk and back in the kitchen dancing and looking for food that doesn’t require microwave or oven usage. Somewhere in my inebriated brain, I’m aware that I can’t be trusted with either.
I grab the Cheetos and take them to the living room. Maverick is kicked back, shirt off, staring at me with hazy eyes.
“It’s almost gone.” He hands me the wine.
I tip it back and finish it off straight from the bottle. A little drips on my shirt, and I wipe at it, then say fuck it and pull my shirt over my head.
“I spilled,” I say as if that’s a good reason to be in my bra around my friend.
“It’s cool. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“We match now.” I point between us.
“You look better shirtless than I do.”
I look down at my cleavage and then at him. His chest is defined, abs chiseled, plus all that ink. “I don’t know. Tie?”
He smirks. “You think I look good shirtless?”
“Of course you do. You’re hot, Johnny Maverick.” And he is, but I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before.
“You too. Like, fuck hot.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask through laughter.
“It’s pretty self-explanatory.Fuckhot.”
“Yes, but you say it like it’s an exclusive list, not half the population.”
