Sloane looks to the sky in mock irritation. “I’ve never met anyone who has an answer for everything like you do, Eden. Sheesh.”
“I’m one in a million, babe.” The delivery is deadpan, but it’s ruined by my face going red because I just called Eden Bishop babe.
“Hmmm.”
What does that mean?
“Er, so I was thinking about your art lessons.”
“Still want that to happen, huh?” she asks, wincing.
“We can call the deal off if you want?”
Unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Oh no. We’re doing this.”
“Then you’ll be painting.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Fine. When and where, Sawyer?”
“Oh shit, that’s some fighting talk. I’ll leave that up to you. I think my day is less crammed than yours.”
We’re only a few minutes from school now. Bryce and his buddies cruise past in his BMW. He pulls up a few metres away.
“Hey Sloane, wanna jump in?”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
“Cool.Hey UK.”
“Bryce.”
We watch him speed off.
Sloane turns to face me with an amused smile. “UK?”
“Yeah, ’coz Eden is two letters too many.”
She snorts. I grin because, damn, I like making her laugh. “So, the art lesson. Any ideas when you’re free?”
“Saturday? I take the day off, especially after a game.”
“I’ll be nice and let you have a sleep in then. Shall we say lunchtime at my place? I’ll make you the best veggie pasta bake you’ve ever tasted.”
Is this sounding like more of a date? Am I asking her on a date?
“You cook?”
“Believe it or not, I’m pretty fucking awesome in the kitchen. I can’t bench press a turkey leg, but I can cook a mean pasta dish.”
Her eyes sparkle. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be able to bench press the whole bird.”
My throat goes dry, because my seventeen-year-old brain is making up some pretty dirty things right now. But when Sloane Bishop says the words ‘when I’m done with you,’ I can’t help it. My ever-growing libido has hijacked my brain.
“Eden?”
“Yeah, yes, turkey legs. What?”
“Oh my god, you’re too much.” She laughs, momentarily grabbing the front of my hoodie before walking off.
