Then I let a slow, dangerous edge creep into my voice. "Guess I'll have to yearn and grovel until you cave. Which, for the record, I'm fully prepared to do — especially if you keep gracing me with that smile."
She smiles wicked. "Fine — woo me."
"Oh, I will,"
She rolls her eyes and shoves at my chest, playful but bossy. "Now go away. I need to hit the gym, and you still need to help your friend."
She pushes me toward the door, yanking it open like she can't get rid of me fast enough, and I'm grinning like an idiot the whole way.
"Alright, alright, I'm going," I say, hands up in surrender but my smile refusing to budge.
I step out into the hall with my chest puffed full of victory, my pulse still running wild. First stop — make sure Taylor's okay.
Then? Straight to the boys, so we can start sketching out the master plan.
Because let's be real — I've got a mountain of screwups to dig myself out of. I'll need the full arsenal: charm, persistence, groveling, maybe even a Hail Mary or two.
Bottom line? I've got a lot to make up for. And if I don't seriously up my game, Caroline's gonna keep me benched for life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-six
ZACH
It's already past seven when I finally get back to the Pond. Didn't even realize I was camped at Caroline's that long. Honestly? It still wasn't long enough. I could've stayed all night.
Hell, I would've killed for one of our old sleepovers.
But yeah, that's not on the table yet. Haven't earned that right back. Not even close.
Besides, I needed to haul my ass home. Taylor's waiting so we can go to Campus Safety together. Hopefully she's doing better—though, let's be real, after today? That's a stretch.
Please let Kentaro not have made it worse. The guy's bedside manner is a brick wall with an attitude. He means well, but he's about as soft as frozen concrete.
Then again, Taylor isn't exactly the type to get intimidated by anyone. So, maybe it balanced out. Hopefully.
I push inside, keys dangling from my hand, and boom—sounds like World War III just broke out in our house.
I hear Liam's voice first, "You camped, you rat bastard!"
Luke's right on top of him, "Learn how to aim, scrub. My grandma's faster than you."
Liam snorts. "Bro—your grandma ismygrandma. Congratulations, you just roasted yourself."
"Shut the hell up," Luke snaps, mashing buttons like his controller owes him rent. "Only reason you even scored that last kill is because the game felt bad for you. Pity points."
"Please. You've got the reaction time of a sloth on NyQuil."
"At least I don't play like my thumbs are broken. Bro, you look like you're trying to type an essay out here."
"Yeah? Then why am I still up on the leaderboard?" Liam jabs a finger at the screen.
"Because you stole my loot drop, you little thief!"
"Oh, cry harder. Want me to knit you a blanket with Grandma so you can sob into it together?"
Gunfire, explosions, some poor digital soldier screaming in the background—it's all I hear as I approach the living room. From the sound alone, I know the twins are knee-deep inCall of Duty.
I step in, and sure enough, the twins aren't even sitting anymore. They'restanding. Controllers clutched like weapons, leaning forward like being two inches closer to the screen is gonna help. Both of them red in the face, shit-talking each other like their lives depend on it.
