“From our trust fund,” she says and I take a step back. “Actually, it’s the interest from our trust fund.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Our stepfather,” she explains softly, “the one who adopted me, which is why we don’t have the same last name anymore—something that I’m going to change back—left us both a trust fund of a looootttt of money,” she sings out as Ariella gasps. “And then my mother passed away”—she blinks away tears—“and she left us the rest of what our stepfather left her. I’m not talking about the M word; I’m talking about the B word and it makes me uncomfortable to even say it!”
“Wait, so you guys are Richie Rich rich?” Ariella asks, making me laugh and all I can do is laugh at her.
“Yeah, it took a while for Kirby to even want to touch the money,” she says, looking at me. “I live off the interest and just let the money sit there. He makes fun of me all the time at how cheap I am.” She takes a sip of her wine. “But, yeah, he’s not your boss.”
“Well, you are both my bosses,” I declare, turning and walking away from the kitchen and the girls as they talk, carrying the frames with me to my bedroom. My head is spinning at finding out things about Kirby, but I was feeling like I was invading his privacy, so I walked away.
The rest of the night the three of us sit in my small living room, watching the game. My heart speeds up every single time they say his name or they show his face. We half watch the game, half talk as I keep filling up the trays with snacks. I walk them both out when they leave and give them both a hug, and we make plans to go to the next home game the guys have, which is next Friday.
Ariella pulls out first, waving at me like crazy, before driving away. She is followed by Kylie, who holds up her hand and then stops and rolls down her window. “I want to try the Pilates thing you were talking about.”
I clap my hands. “Want to do a class tomorrow at ten?”
“Yes,” she says. “Send me the details and I’ll meet you there.”
“Will do.” I hold up my hand and take my phone out to reserve our spots for the class.
I clean up the little bit of a mess when I get back into the house and then head to my bedroom. I look up and see the pictures Ariella had put up during the first and second period. I smile when I see the one in the middle, with the six of them hanging all around that one.
Pulling out my phone, I pull up his text and close my eyes before I start writing the text.
Me:
Thank you for the pictures. They are the best.
I press send and then take a picture of them and send it to him.
I look at the clock, seeing it’s just after eleven thirty and wondering if he’s sleeping or not. I slip into my shorts and tank top, and I’m sliding into bed when my phone pings with his reply.
Kirby:
You are more than welcome.
I laugh and then decide to call him but after half a ring I hang up.
Kirby:
Are you drunk calling me?
I laugh and call him again and this time he answers within the first half of the ring. “I’m not drunk,” I state before he even says anything and his laughter makes parts of me ache and then tingle.
“It’s girls’ night, you’re supposed to let loose.”
“Is that what you are doing in Vegas?” I ask him and then I hear a ring and look to see he’s trying to FaceTime me. I smile and press the green button, and his face fills the screen with his naked shoulders.
“We didn’t even go out for the team dinner.” He laughs. “We were going to and then we saw two girls in the corner puking and decided room service was the best plan.”
I can’t help but laugh at him. “Are you dating anyone?” I ask him and the back of my neck burns and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“Are you crazy?” he asks me, his eyebrows pinching together.
“I’m asking you a serious question.” I turn on my side and lie down, pretending he’s here with me.
“How the fuck do you want me to be dating anyone when the only one—” He stops talking and then tilts his head to the side. “I’m not. Are you?”
