He held up a hand, frowning. “No excuses, King. You ate the last of the chicken parmesan, didn't you?”
I blinked. “I— What?”
“The fridge.Myleftovers. Nessa swears it wasn’t her.”
Relief hit me so hard, I laughed. “Er, yeah. Sorry, man. It was late and I was starving after the gym.”
Pink shook his head, but he was smiling. “Asshole. Buy me lunch next week.”
“Deal.”
I took a sip of my fresh margarita, the salt and lime sharp on my tongue, buying myself a second to decide if I was really about to rip the Band-Aid off.
This was my window. Pink was relaxed, amused, completely unaware that I’d just mentally prepared myself for aDateline-worthy interrogation over stolen leftovers. If I didn’t say something now, I’d spend the rest of the night flinching every time he looked in my direction, waiting for therealquestion to drop.
If I was going to do this, it had to be now.
Quietly, between the two of us.
“Actually,” I said, setting the glass down. “There is something I wanted to talk about with you.”
“Hit me.”
I met his eyes, steady. “It’s about Bella.”
Pink went very still, his protective big-brother mode clicking on like a switch. “What about Bella?”
I didn’t flinch. “We, uh, kissed. A few nights ago. It wasn’tplanned, but I need you to know I am interested in her.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And sorry, but I’m not asking for your permission to date her. She’s a grown ass woman who decides what she wants. But you’re my teammate and roommate, andherbrother, so I wanted to make sure you heard it from me and knew where I stood from the start.”
Pink studied me, his expression unreadable, and I braced for whatever came next.
Then, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“You kissed my sister,” he said slowly, like he was testing the words.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re telling me because . . .”
“Because I respect you—and her—and I’m not going to sneak around like some high-school asshole.”
Pink exhaled through his nose, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. For a second, I thought he might deck me. That was before he started to laugh. Low at first, then louder, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it.
“Fucking finally, man. I’ve been waiting for the two of you to figure this shit out for months.”
I blinked. “You— You knew?”
He clapped me on the shoulder, still chuckling. “Dude, you’re speaking to the guy who reads romance novels. I know deep, longing gazes when I see them. You pine harder than the trees in the yard.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Upset? I’m fucking delighted. I’ve watched her go out with a string of losers who didn’t know their asses from their elbows. You’re solid. If anybody’s gonna date my sister, I’d rather it be the guy who has my back behind the plate than some dickweed off Tinder who quotes Nietzsche on the first date.”
Relief hit me so hard, my knees almost buckled. “So, we’re good?”
