A pause, then a reluctant grunt. “…Fine. Still don’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t like his stupid fan club signs! Did you see them? I wish I had a flamethrower.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, way too entertained. “I like that image. My mate with a flamethrower, torching fangirls.”
“Lucien, I’m serious! Some of them literally want to bear his children!”
His husky chuckle bothered me. “He’ll only have pups with you, Bunny Doc. Pretty sure he can’t wait to fill you up with little bunnies.”
I slapped my cheek, scorching with blush. “Lucien!”
“I have to go now, Bunny Doc. Certain matters need my attention!”
“What matters?—”
“I’ll call you back later!Mwah!”
I pulled the phone away, jaw hanging.
“Did he just…mwahme?”
I sighed and looked down at my Comets sweatshirt, the number 17 printed across it. A heartbeat later, I yanked it up, folded it neatly, and politely set it aside like it was a radioactive substance.
On my way back from the bathroom, a hand cupped my covered elbow. I wheeled around, half expecting Rudolph.
Only to be more surprised.
“You look pretty flustered today,” a deep voice hummed.
There was Skeleton Man. His silly mask was still glued on under his hood, barely revealing his face. However, the sweater he wore was totally unzipped, flashing the sight of a whole muralof odd tattoos across his chest and stomach. From a stampede of small chickens chasing a big T. rex on one pec, to a finned monster in a pink ink lake on his ribs, to what looked like an apple pie on one ab with spiders crawling out its center.
And right above his heart? A scribbledK+T+Cinside a lopsided heart, like a middle school doodle, except tattooed forever.
The bone patterns painted over his legs were still flawless. They must have been drawn in special ink, as they hadn’t even smudged during the game—and that was despite him flattening half my team earlier.
“You like the hot game, sweet pea? Hope you were cheering formoi.”
“Gentle Eyes! I knew it was you!” I smacked his arm. Some carbon smear came off on my palm. He didn’t even look like he’d broken a sweat. “I’ve officially promoted you from Gentle Eyes to Satan’s Heir after that performance.”
He lit up like I’d just knighted him. “Satan’s Heir! Sweet pea, you spoil me.”
Of course he loved it.Rascal.
“You’re a nickname specialist.” He winked. “And I knew you wouldn’t forget me, because our connection is unforgettable!” Another wink.
If I was really a nickname specialist, he’d be called Winker.
I had liked him right away, despite his constant flirtations. Maybe it was the infectious positivity, or maybe it was because he reminded me slightly of Rudolph.
“Makena’s here, too.”
He scratched his temple in an adorable way. “Who?”
Of course.
I arched a brow. “My roommate, AKA your night buddy.”
“Ah! The lioness!Grrr!” He smiled like a kid in a candy shop. “Tell her I said hi. Well—no, don’t. She still owes me patches of skin from the last round’s scratches.”
