Natalie inhales eagerly, and she jumps up for the kitchen. Morris follows, arms out, ready to catch her every time she stumbles. Once she has the carton, Morris helps her stand at the counter as she eats giant scoops.
“Where all did you go?” I ask Stone, since Kennedy’s head rolls back on the couch, eyes drifting shut.
Rylie rattles off all the bars they’d been to, with a detailed description of what they’d drunk at each one. “But not Bella’s, Spence,” she tells me, squeezing my forearm. “We saw Meegan and Dawn there and noped right out.”
Good thinking. I can only imagine how this night would have turned out if, instead of unexpected visitors, we’d gotten a call that a cat fight had broken out between Stone and the girl who had filmed herself having sex with Hart. Or between her and her ex-best friend. Or Natalie and Meegan, since there’s no love lost there.
Would Kennedy have joined in? Since I told her all about my history with my ex, would she feel compelled to duke it out? I snort at the idea of Kennedy Fucking Walsh defending my honor.
Something cold touches my side, and when I look down, Kennedy fidgets. Quickly, she moves her foot, bare since we’d helped the girls remove their shoes at the door, and pokes me with her big toe. When I glance up at her face, she’s not giggling anymore. Hazel eyes focus on mine, and then, with a slow smile, she pokes me again.
I grab her foot and wiggle my fingers on the heel. She shouts and kicks me in the side, but she only manages to launch herself off the couch.
Stone jabs me with a weak fist. “Spencer, be nice!”
I am, I almost say. Because for a moment, I forgot we’re keeping this a secret. That I shouldn’t know where all of Kennedy’s ticklish spots are.
“I’ll be nice when she keeps her cold ass foot off me,” I tell Rylie. On the floor, Kennedy sits up and pinches my calf. I shuffle out of her way.
“Okay,” Morris announces, holding his hands in ‘Time Out’. “It’s late. Armstrong’s getting grouchy. Time for water and bed.”
“One more bite,” Natalie mumbles around a mouthful of ice cream.
“If you don’t stop now, you’re going to puke it all up,” Morris warns.
“But what am I s’pposed to do with this?” Natalie frowns at the huge scoop on her spoon. With a gasp, she turns to Morris, waving it in his face. “You eat it.”
Morris tries to wrestle it away from her, but she dodges.
“Take a bite, Theo. You know you waaaant it.” She pushes the ice cream to his mouth, which Morris keeps firmly shut, though the rest of his body shakes with laughter as Natalie continues trying to spoonfeed him. “Mmmmm, sugar. Fat. No nutrish—nutrishional value.”
And finally, since Morris realizes the only way to get her to stop shoving melting ice cream all over his chin is to go along with it, the quarterback takes the bite. Natalie cheers, throwing the spoon on the counter. With a content sigh, she wraps her arms around his neck and sags against him.
“Okay, to the bedroom.”
“Don’t make it weird,” he chuckles. Over her head, he nods at Rylie and Kennedy. “Let me get Nat settled, and I’ll help with them.”
I wave him off, saying I’ve got it. Sober, Mason is likely to be distracted by shiny objects. Drunk, she’s ten thousand times worse. At least my wards won’t try to break out craft projects.
Though, partway up the stairs, when Rylie starts loudly wondering when Levi will get back and Kennedy bursts into giggles after slipping down three steps, I almost want to take back my offer. Because these girls are not cooperating with me. At all. Through sheer determination and me barking orders at both of them, we make it to the landing. I sit Kennedy on the floor and tell her to wait while I put Stone in her boyfriend’s room.
When Stone lifts the hem of her top, I snap, “Clothes stay on.”
“Oh, right,” she blinks down at her shirt. “Habit. Levi says his room is a naked sanc—” She hiccups. “Sanctuary.”
Which is why I don’t enter without knocking. Sometimes, even that doesn’t work.
I help her into bed, then grab Hart’s blanket. Her hand snakes out and stops me.
“Spence,” she whispers. Then, she repeats. “Be nice. It’s Kennedy’s b—hic—birthday.”
Her birthday was four weeks ago, but this is another thing I shouldn’t know off the top of my head.
“I know she seems…” She stalls, searching for a word in her drunken mind. I could give her any number of them. Standoffish. Aloof. Indifferent. “Cool.”
That works, too.
Stone shakes my arm. “She’s a huge softie. Just like you’re a softie.”
I lean close to whisper matter-of-factly, “I’m not a softie.”
“Yes, you are.” She yawns, eyes closing and digging her head into Hart’s pillow. “Levi says so. He says you love him. In a bro-way.”
I grin, shaking my head as I settle the blanket over her and turn off the light. In the hallway, Kennedy’s gone, and my bedroom door’s open an inch. My grin widens, but before I can join her, I decide to check on Morris downstairs. The basement door’s open. Faint music drifts up the steps, accompanied by the low voices of two people talking. I quietly shut the basement door.
After fetching a couple water bottles from the fridge, I clean the remains of donut crumbs on the couch and throw away the pizza box. I’m about to return upstairs when the front door opens. Hart looks around the empty living room and asks, “Where is everyone?”
I nod to the stairs and follow after him when he rushes up. Noticing he’s alone, I ask, “Forget someone at the bar?”
“Gray actually scored for once.” Hart pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “I watched that little baby bird jump out of the nest and ascend right for pussy heaven.”
“How did she get over his fact?” Because Rowe always has a
