To hopefully stir his nerves a bit because he’s being sassy, I make a show of getting out of the front seat and opening the back door of the cab with more force than necessary. He can’t just throw sex in my face like that.
Well, maybe he can.
Since I want the bedroom fun times to continue, and for him to absolutely be in charge there, I concede. “Fine.”
I catch his smile as he shakes his head. A little giggle escapes me as I jog up the stairs to the apartment.
Dee is looking out the window when I open the door.
“He didn’t kiss you goodbye.” She sounds ready to throw deviled eggs at his car.
“Good morning to you too.” I walk past her to the kitchen and unload the mason jars.
“Why didn’t he kiss you goodbye?” She turns to me and crosses her arms. “Is this just sex? I really don’t want it to be just sex. I think you’re both really good for each other and I might be getting my period soon because I’m all emotional about it but,” she pauses to take a breath. “Laney, he could bethe one.”
“Have you been listening to thePeriod in Three Daysplaylist?”
“Maybe.”
“We know we shouldn’t do that to ourselves without an alpha bro podcast queued up to counteract the mushy love feelings of those songs.”
“Yeah I wasn’t thinking.”
“Should I put on whatever sports talk show is being broadcast on TV right now?”
“Yes.” She pouts and slumps down on the couch. “But, why didn’t he kiss you goodbye.”
“Because it isn’t goodbye. We’re going on a ride.” I find some inside baseball thing and turn up the volume. Nothing like ads for erectile dysfunction, hair loss, and bros talking about ball rotation and swing speed to get you out of a PMS funk.
In my room I quickly change into a bike kit, I toss Miguel’s clothing onto my laundry pile. Then I stop to reconsider.
Does he want those back now?
They’re dirty.
He probably has a particular way he likes doing his laundry.
But it’s rude to just hand him dirty clothing.
I’ll wash them tomorrow with the rest of my stuff and then give them back.
Decision made I head back out and find Dee glaring at the television.
“Did they discuss salaries?” I hazard a guess.
“How is it possible theminimumsalary for a player in the league is nearly a million dollars?!” She tosses her hands out to the side. “Minimum wage is like fifteen dollars.”
“If you’re not in a tips based position.”
“Shit you’re right.”
“It’s America’s Pastime.” I shrug. If I had earned $15/hr for the hours I have spent lamenting the disparity of money across the sports world I’d be sitting on well more than a million dollars.
“Well that’s just not true. America’s pastime is obviously staring at our pocket computers and believing everything a few corporations feed us. And then assuming the rest of the world has the same content on their pocket computer and hating people who don’t think the same way you do.”
“Yeah, I’d say your period is due any minute.”
“That was grim. I’ll give you that.” She shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
