Page 211 of Pucking Wild

Vases cover every surface of the kitchen—the counters, the stove, the island. There are more stacked on the dining table. Only one little spot remains cleared away at the end of the table. Tess has prepared my usual game day breakfast bowl of steel cut oats with fresh berries. I just have to add the hot water.

“Tess!” I shout, listening for sounds of her somewhere in the house. She’s probably hiding around the corner, snickering into her hand. “Tess!”

But the house is dead quiet.

I huff, turning back to my breakfast. There’s a red envelope resting next to my bowl. I snatch it up. She drew a heart on the front with a letter R inside it. I pull out the card and as soon as I open it, the chorus of Taylor Swift’s “All of the Girls You Loved Before” starts playing.

Damn it. She knows that’s my favorite Swift song. I call it my ‘Tess Song.’ On a dare, I even sang it to her during karaoke night a few months ago.

I drop the card and pull my phone out of my pajama pants pocket. I call her, one hand on my hip, glaring at my breakfast. The phone rings and rings as the musical card continues to play.

She doesn’t answer.

“Fuck!” I shout at literally no one. “I am marrying you so fucking hard! Don’t even test me!”

Thirty minutes later,Jake and Caleb drag me out of the house for our game day morning beach walk. I tried to tell them what was happening, but Jake wasn’t having it. He’s almost as bad as Mars when it comes to game day rituals.

We stop by the coffee shop on the way. Colby, my favorite barista, passes me my grande iced tea. She’s got the perfect tattoo-to-piercing ratio to know you’re always going to get a quality product.

“Here you go, Ryan,” she chimes. “And hey, guys, good luck tonight!”

“Thanks, Colby Like the Cheese,” Jake teases, taking his coffee from her. It’s their little joke. That’s how she introduced herself on her first day here. Now it’s all he calls her.

I lead the way outside where Sanford is waiting with the dog. Jake hands his husband his coffee, and then we all make our way over to the beach.

“So, she’s dodging your calls?” says Jake, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah.”

“But she left you a garden of roses and singing cards and phone alarms?”

“Yeah,” I say again.

“Dude, you’re so getting proposed to tonight,” Sanford teases.

I pause, stupid smile on my face. “What? Oh god, do you really think so?”

Sanny just shrugs, flipping his aviators down onto his face. “Well, she’s already home, so she’s gotta go big. What’s bigger than seeing ‘Will you marry me?’ in the flashing lights of the jumbotron?”

“Dude, the guys are gonna lose it,” Jake laughs. “You will never,everlive this down.”

I smirk, glancing from him to Sanford. “I have that stupid beach puppy look on my face, don’t I?”

They both nod.

“Yeah, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Sanny says.

“You’re embarrassingus,” Jake corrects.

I don’t even care. I flip my sunglasses down, too, taking a sip of my iced tea.

Sanford and the dog lead the way down to the beach, and we take it slow, just strolling along the surf in our bare feet. It’s barely a half-mile between our houses, so Tess and I walk down most mornings, meeting the Prices at the coffee shop on the way.

Then we all pound the sand back in the direction of our house. The Prices drop us off, the guys usually steal some fruit, and then they make their way home. Everyone gets to walk “the circle” as we call it.

The beach is busy for a Saturday morning in February, but the weather has been so great this week. It’s sunny and clear, with a good surf. Lots of people are out riding the waves. We pass a small group of women doing yoga and a young couple making out on their tie-dyed beach blanket.

Poseidon zigs and zags all around, chasing the ball we take turns throwing for him. I think I’ve just about convinced Tess to let us get a dog.

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