Page 8 of A Fool for April


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Pierre says, “Last week you spent twenty minutes explaining her system for your bills.”

“It’s efficient!”

“And this morning,” Robo adds with a lilt in his voice, “you told us about the video of asmol floofdoingasplootwhileborkingthat she sent you at six a.m. and how cute it was that she added her own commentary.”

My lips curl with a smile. It was adorable.

Lane scrunches up his face. “A what doing a what?”

Liam says, “Translation: a small dog stretching while barking.”

Lane shakes his head.

“Best you learn the lingo,” Fletch supplies.

Okay, so maybe I talk about April sometimes. But it’s a normal amount. A totally friend zone appropriate amount.

“Plus,” Jack says, “we’ve all noticed you never go on more than one date with anyone.”

Here we go. The exact conversation I do my level best to avoid.

“That’s because they’re all spotlight snipers,” I mutter. “No one is genuinely interested in me.” Just the NHL player with the decent contract and the Instagram following.

“Interested in what?” Fletch asks. “Your outstanding Lego collection?”

“Hey, that Darth Vader helmet set is a legitimate work of art.”

“You’re basically a giant kid,” Lane observes. “Which, to be fair, makes you the only one of us I’d actually trust to babysit Mya and Kai.”

“See? Thank you.”

“Only if April is there, though,” he adds quickly. “Left to your own devices, you and the kids would stay up until midnight, eat nothing but candy, and probably skip brushing your teeth entirely.”

“I brush my teeth!”

“Once a week doesn’t count, bud.”

“Twice a day!” I protest. “Sometimes three times if I know April is coming over.”

The locker room goes dead silent.

Fletch slowly claps. “And there it is.”

“Therewhatis?”

“Our man from the Pacific Northwest is pining,” Hayden says with a grin.

Tucking my chin, I balk. “I am not pining.”

“You brush your teeth extra when you know you’re going to see April,” Mikey points out.

Vohn, tone flat, says, “I bet he flosses too.”

Beau adds, “That’s textbook pining.”

“That’s basic hygiene!”

“Face it, Culpepper,” Grady says. “You’ve got it bad.”