“You dated this guy?” I ask, and she nods. “I don’t know jack shit about relationships, but putting your girlfriend down because you don’t like watching her become more successful than you doesn’t seem like someone I would want to be around.”
“We all do dumb shit when we’re young and in love. Play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Mine happened to be an asshole who liked to make me feel small while he was the one with the tiny dick.”
I choke on a laugh. “How tiny are we talking?”
Emerson holds up her fingers barely four inches apart. “That tiny.”
“I need to send you a fruit basket and offer my condolences.”
“I’m allergic to strawberries.”
“Noted. You gonna give me a name?” I ask.
“Nope,” she answers.
“I have friends who could track him down. They could hack into his computer if you ever feel like retaliating.”
“Who the hell are you friends with?”
“Stop wanting to know things about me,” I say smugly. “I’m going to think you like me, Red.”
“If your ego gets any bigger, there’s not going to be any room for us in the hallway.”
“You could stand closer to me, if you want.”
“I think I’d rather die.” She looks down at her shoes and holds a foot up. “Should I put on flats? I don’t want to look too tall in the photos.”
“Too tall?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is there such a thing as too tall? I love tall women.”
“I’m definitely going to put on flats then.”
“Stop.” I touch her elbow then pull back when I realize what I’m doing. “Sorry. I’m not a judge onProject Runway, so my opinion on fashion has little merit, but I like the heels. And if you like them too, who cares what anyone else thinks?”
“I read yourGQarticle from last summer. You seemed to have a lot of thoughts on fashion,” she says, and she covers her mouth. Her eyes widen, and a pretty pink color pops up on her cheeks when she realizes what she just told me. “Shit. Pretend I never said that.”
I break out into a slow grin and lean my elbow against the wall above her head. “Well, well, well. Are you reading up on me, Hartwell? Writing my name in your diary?”
“I was using the photos as a dartboard. Your face was the bull’s-eye.”
“Did you hit your target?”
“Right between the eyes. Every time.”
“Atta girl,” I say, and the pink on her skin changes to crimson as it moves down her neck. “That makes me?—”
“Am I interrupting?” Hudson asks. His eyes bounce from me to Emerson, and he smiles. “Glad to see you two can get through a conversation without someone getting hurt.”
“The day is young,” Emerson says, and she slides away from me.
“Where were you?” I ask Hudson. “You’re late.”
“Sorry. Ethan has this spot on his ass he thinks is skin cancer, and he wanted me to check it out. He was going to ask Lexi, but she might’ve ripped it off his body for bothering her.”
“Who’s Lexi?” Emerson asks.
“Our head athletic trainer. You’ll meet her soon,” I tell her. Then, to Hudson, “How the hell would he have skin cancer on his ass? Is he walking around naked?”
“It’s Easy E. I wouldn’t put it past him,” he says. “I’ve seen his dick more times than I’ve seen my own.”
