Then I give up, lift my pumpkin spice mug, and toast the universe for messing with me on purpose.
Me ??:You still have time to ruin it. Focus on the game.
Sent.
Five seconds.
Cohen-pain-in-my-ass:You’re always so loving…
I roll my eyes.
Rae shoots me a knowing look.
“Sloane Heart, are you smiling at your phone?”
“I’m reading a work report.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s this report’s name?”
She smirks as she pushes up her pink-and-fuchsia sleeves.
Lina chokes back a laugh.
“She’s blushing. I saw the dimple.”
I run a hand through my hair, pretending to focus.
“Can you two stop analyzing my facial expressions?”
“No,” they answer in unison.
Irritating.
So irritating.
I sigh and shut my laptop.
The square outside erupts again, and Francis’s voice booms from the speakers with his usual theatrical commentary.
I throw both of them a death glare.
“You—go back to staring at tattooed hotties,” I tell Lina, trying very hard to sound serious.
“And you—these muffins are unreal!” I point my fork at Rae.
I swear I tried to keep a straight face, to threaten Rae too, but…
I probably look like a manga character discovering true joy right now.
Rae beams and flicks a strand of her red hair.
“Hey,Imade those muffins! You forgot Rae can’t even use a microwave,” Lina mutters, pouting.
Oops. Touché.
23
Road to Lakewood (or: 90 Minutes of Glory and Discomfort)
