One downfall to the type of closeness we share is we’re not afraid to call each other out on our shit.
“Hardy-har-har,” I mock. “I know this”—I shake the top—“is a shirt, but after I burn it, I’ll be down one pajama top.”
Ooo, I hate it when he uses my eye roll against me.
“As the son of the Blackwell fire chief, I feel like it’s my duty to talk you out of your pyro urges.”
“Don’t ruin my buzz by being all responsible like.” I toss the shirt at him, but because of my inebriated state, it lands about seven feet to the right of him. “You’re already on my shit list for taking the side of the enemy earlier.”
“Whatever you say, sis.” Hands cup my shoulders and I’m steered back inside the bedroom, where I’m promptly handed one of his UK cheer tees.
With him too busy laughing at me, the door doesn’t close all the way, and snippets of conversation filter in through the crack in the door.
“Damn, JT. You’ve been holding out on us. Your girl’s hot,” says the deep voice belonging to Spencer.
“Careful. PF’s practically my sister, Spence.”
“Wait…that’s the friend you’ve been helping through a breakup?”
“Yeah.”
“So she’s single then?”
“Bruh. Seriously?” A warning note enters JT’s tone.
“What? She’s a smokeshow.”
“Listen, man, she may technically be single right now, but that’s only until she figures out how to get out of her own way and takes the guy back.”
Is that really what JT thinks? That I should be with Mason? Is that what all that championing was earlier? He needs to get his punk ass back in here so I can kick it.
Okay, that might be the tequila talking more than anything else.
“Plus—and trust me on this—you don’t want to get in her guy’s crosshairs. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”
I can’t listen to any more of this. There will be no members of Team Mason allowed inside my brain space.
On that note, I pull back the covers on JT’s bed and snuggle into my spot, letting the buzz from the tequila lull me to sleep.
#Chapter26
Cautiously, I crack one eyelid open, slowly taking stock. To be honest, I probably feel better than I should—only a mild headache and slightly sluggish—given the amount of tequila I consumed last night.
The events of the last eighteen hours pop up in my memory like a game of whack-a-mole, and I pull a pillow over my head in an effort to hide from them.
Isn’t alcohol supposed to help you forget?
Girl. My inner cheerleader twirls the end of her ponytail with her fingers and tilts her head at me. Haven’t you learned by now there’s no forgetting Mason Nova? *holds out left hand to admire a ring on it* Talk about an epic grand gesture. She flips her hand around and wiggles her fingers at me.
I’m going to need caffeine if I have to deal with my own subconscious plotting against me.
I’m not the only one. Did you already forget about all the things JT said last night?
Tossing the pillow to the side, I reach for my phone and take note of the water bottle and Advil next to it.
CTG BFF JT: Text me when you’re up. Also, there’s chocolate milk in the fridge and a greasy bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich waiting for you.
And that right there is why this man is my bestie. Everyone needs a person in their life who will put together a hangover care package for them.
I down the Advil and roll to my back to text JT.
ME: You are the BEST best friend EVER!!! *trophy emoji* *gold medal emoji* *clapping hands emoji* *blue heart emoji* *crazy face emoji*
ME: I can even forgive your Judas tendencies with this gesture.
CTG BFF JT: I know *kissy face emoji*
CTG BFF JT: And please, you’ll be thanking me soon enough.
I’m grumbling to myself as I type out my next message.
ME: When will you be back?
CTG BFF JT: Later. I’m on my way to practice now.
ME: Okay. I’m going back to sleep then *zzz emoji*
CTG BFF JT: Nope. Get your lazy ass out of my bed and dress for cheer practice. Coach knows you’re here and asked me to ask you to help choreograph mine and Rei’s partner stunt routine again.
I shouldn’t be surprised by the request; I did the same for them last year. The final approval on their routine will come from Coach Ramos, but having spent my whole cheer career partnered with JT, I’m an expert on what stunts he excels at.
ME: Do you really think me stunting with your squad is a good idea? That’s what started this whole mess.
CTG BFF JT: It’ll be fine. I already told everyone no taping of anything and not to post about you being down here. Stop stalling and hustle up, buttercup.
ME: *GIF of Anna Kendrick saluting*
I should have suspected it wouldn’t take JT much time to arrange for me to get in some form of cheering while I’m here. Ironically, nothing makes me feel more centered than being tossed in the air. Who knows? Maybe it will help me figure out what to do about the added threats from Liam.
Goose bumps dot my arms when I crawl out from beneath the warm covers, the slight chill in the room reminding me it is November. Rummaging through my bag, I search for a hoodie, only to realize, just like with my sleep shirt, I subconsciously packed Mason’s.
Was it really subconscious? Why won’t you just admit you want to be with him already?
Fucking hell.
Throwing the garment like it was the one that offended me and not my own conscience, I stomp over to JT’s closet and rip one of his blue UK hoodies down with enough force to cause its hanger to bounce off the bar and fall onto the floor.
I need chocolate milk and coffee stat.
“Stupid fucking football player. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I mumble, attempting to pull the sweatshirt over my head. “I should
