BROADWAY BABY: *facepalm emoji* I really do need to change your contact name to ‘I can’t even.’
THE BIG HAMMER: You know *thinking face emoji* I’m a little disappointed you haven’t asked me the most important question of all.
BROADWAY BABY: Why don’t you share with the class?
THE BIG HAMMER: You asked me why I sent you the picture but not WHY I’m eating them.
BROADWAY BABY: Um…because you’re hungry and I’m sure Gemma would rather you eat them than regular French fries?
THE BIG HAMMER: While I’m sure that’s true and all, no, that’s not why I’m eating them…but if Gem asks, yes that’s why.
BROADWAY BABY: Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the real reason?
THE BIG HAMMER: I figured I’d get some practice in before our date this weekend.
BROADWAY BABY: Practice?
THE BIG HAMMER: Eating sweet potatoes.
BROADWAY BABY: Did you take a puck to the head last night and I missed it? Because you’re not making any sense.
THE BIG HAMMER: You’re so cute when you act clueless.
BROADWAY BABY: …
THE BIG HAMMER: You’re sleeping at my place after our date, right?
BROADWAY BABY: Maybe.
THE BIG HAMMER: What is this maybe stuff you speak of?
BROADWAY BABY: Well, if you’d asked me prior to this conversation, my answer would have been yes, but since you’re dancing around the question, I might be reconsidering.
THE BIG HAMMER: *GIF of Zach, Screech, and AC Slater dancing in their underwear saying, “Slumber party!”*
BROADWAY BABY: Oh I love Saved by the Bell.
BROADWAY BABY: Still not an answer though.
THE BIG HAMMER: Okay. Let me know if this is clear enough for you.
THE BIG HAMMER: After I blow your mind with the EPIC date I have planned, I am going to spend the rest of the night eating YOU, Sweet Potato.
BROADWAY BABY: Well played, Loverboy. I think you just broke Mels.
BROADWAY BABY: Also…HOT DAMN!
THE BIG HAMMER: Thanks Zo.
Chapter Thirty
February
“You’re a hot mess.” Zoey rehangs yet another shirt I toss her way.
I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Captain Obvious sitting on my bed. I wish Ella were here; she would actually help, unlike Miss Ballbuster here.
“Not. Helping.” I go back to searching my closet again, praying the right outfit will jump up and shout, Wear me!
“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like it’s your first date or anything.”
I bury my face in the rack of clothes in front of me. Technically what Zoey says is true. In the month or so since I had dinner at Jase’s, we’ve gone on a handful of dates, but tonight is our first big one. I couldn’t tell you why, but it feels more official than the others.
It also doesn’t help that Jase has refused to tell me what we are doing. And holy crap don’t even get me started on how he ended our text convo a few days ago.
“Oh my god, I can’t watch this anymore.” Zoey pushes the pile of discarded clothes out of the way and rises from my bed, taking me by the shoulders and reversing our positions. “You sit here and let Mama take care of you.”
“Because when you’re good to Mama…”
“Mama’s good to you.” She finishes the lyric to one of our favorite songs from Chicago. “There’s my little thespian. Now let’s find you something that will get your hockey hunk so worked up he’ll be dying to get at your sin bin.”
“Oh my god, Zo.” I hide my flaming cheeks in my hands. “You did not just say that.”
“You’re damn right I did. It’s high time you jump on that hockey stick and take it for a spin.”
I scrunch my face. “Not really sure that’s correct.”
“Fine. I’ll speak to you in my language.” She tosses a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a white V-neck, and a long merlot-colored buttoned sweater at me. “You two need to finally stop dancing around each other and get to the horizontal mambo already.” I’m smacked in the face with a matching set of white lace lingerie.
“That was so easy it was almost a cop-out.”
“Whatever. It works.” A pair of suede camel-colored thigh-high boots land by the bed, and she folds her arms over her chest. “Wear that. Go, have fun with your boyfriend, and for god’s sake, put his finely-honed athletic prowess to the test.”
She may be a nut job, but I wouldn’t trade her in for the world.
“Besides…when a man says he wants to spend a night dining algina, you don’t turn that down.”
Don’t ask. Don’t do it. It’s best not to engage.
I can’t help myself. “Algina?”
Zoey stops in the open doorway of my room. “You know…” She makes a rolling motion with her finger. “Like alfresco but for your vagina.”
I knew I shouldn’t have asked.
“Plus, hockey players really know how to work their hips.” She calls the parting shot over her shoulder as she leaves me alone in my room.
I need to shake off these nerves so I can enjoy the night. Humming “Out Tonight” from Rent, I pull on the outfit Zoey selected. She is a pain in the ass, but she sure as hell knows what she’s doing when it comes to outfit selection.
The jeans and boots show off my legs to perfection, and the t-shirt is casual yet tight enough to be sexy. I leave the buttons open on the sweater, letting it hang to the middle of my thighs.
A peek at the time tells me I need to hustle if I’m going to be ready before Jase arrives. It’s a risk having him pick me up here, but he didn’t want to worry about if the Storm’s plane was late and having me wait for him.
I’m wrapping a tan tartan scarf around my neck when the knock comes.
It’s just a date, Mels. No big deal. He likes you, you like him. Don’t worry about anything else.
I take a deep breath, only to expel it in a rush when I open the door.
Holy hell does Jase Donnelly clean up nice.
His blond hair is styled, his black sweater has to be cashmere and molds to his chest like it was made for him, and don’t even get me started on the way the dark jeans hug his massive thighs before tapering to a pair of classic black and white Chucks.
Would it be wrong to give him a standing ovation? Probably, but damn he’s hot with a capital H-O-T.
“Hey, Sweet Potato.” Mischief sparkles in the golden-green of his eyes.