“Yeah, but not hisname.”
“Because I don’t want you soc’ stalking!”
“Why not?” he good naturedly laughs, informing me of his truly unbothered disposition. “What’s wrong with a little pregaming to the big faceoff?”
“First of all,” snickers are exchanged, “there is no faceoff. There will not be a boyfriend vs big brother tournament.”
“I’d win.”
“Second,” my eyes roll on their own accord, “I don’t want you soc’ stalking becauseIwant you to meet him face to face. BecauseIwant to be the one to introduce you to the man, I’m fired up about.”
M struggles not to smirk. “How fired up?”
“Scale?”
“Like warmies brawl or bench clearing Donny?”
“Like setting a new record for penalty minutes type of fired.”
“Daaaaamn…” escapes in a dramatically airy fashion. “That’s fucking love.”
Unbridled giddiness gets me eagerly nodding.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in love.”
“I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been.” My shoulders innocently bounce. “At least not like this.”
An intrigued hum precedes his next line of questioning, “And where exactly is the mystery bud? Better not be scrambling last minute to get your gift.”
“Doubt it.” Knowing exactly where he is and where he can’t be leads me to cleverly announcing. “He has to work late today.”
Which is very true.
Just like my big brother does.
“He better not miss your fucking birthday.”
Holding in a hiccup is almost impossible.
“He better have some top-cheddar shit that you text me all about.”
I adjust the angle of the phone in hope it hides the action I’m struggling to conceal.
“Shouldn’t you be getting your head in the game and out of my love life?” I teasingly scold.
“Probably,” M lightly laughs. “Puck drops still a bit away. Shit part about playing in Cali.”
An alert cuts into the chat informing me that Thayne is trying to call prompting me to say, “Well, I’ve gotta take this call coming in, but I’ll be rooting and watching later just like always.”
“Just like always,” he adoringly echoes. “Big love.”
“Bigger love.”
Ending his chat to begin one with my boyfriend swiftly occurs as does his immediately blowing of the purple, plastickazoo I gave him along with the singing of my favorite version of “Happy Birthday”.
I grin super wide and clap along and bounce my yellow scrub covered body to the familiar beat.
Once he’s finished, he blows the noisemaker again and declares, “Happy birthday, Gillybean!”
