She smiles. “Fair. Now Dex, why is it cropped?”
Dex looks down at his shirt. “Because it’s daring.”
I rub a hand over my face.
I can’t help but chime in. “Dude, whatever you’re wearing right now is straight-up chick repellent.”
Dex scoffs. “Incorrect. This shirt attracts attention.”
Mia taps her chin like she’s contemplating. “I don’t know. It’s… bold. Like if confidence had a neon setting.”
Annabelle nods. “Chaotic, but memorable.”
“Okay,” I say, scooping meatballs onto my plate. “Rule one. Nobody embarrasses her.”
All heads turn.
Gregory squints. “Define embarrass.”
“No singing over the artist,” I say.
Dex gasps. “That feels targeted.”
“It is,” I tell him.
Mason throws a garlic knot at Dex. “What if we sing quietly?”
“No.”
“What if we mouth the words?”
“Still no.”
Dex raises his hand. “What if I enhance the vibe?”
“You’re not a vibe enhancer,” I say flatly.
“I disagree,” he says. “I once raised morale in a penalty box.”
I stare at him. “You were alone in there. Say no more.”
Mason bends forward, cracking up.
Bryce laughs so hard his sunglasses slip down his nose.
Eli high-fives me.
Dex shrugs. “Sometimes I enjoy my time in the penalty box. Helps me regrip.”
I blink at him. “That explains your record penalty minutes. You’re way too comfortable gripping yourself.”
That does it.
The table loses it.
Annabelle leans toward Mia and murmurs, “Boys will be boys. Always convinced their equipment is a security blanket.”
“Isn’t it?” Dex and Mason say in unison.
