AllFreeNovel
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We’re stuck in the corner of a coffee shop in Birmingham, Alabama, patrons gawking and snapping pics at us. I’ve gotten used to that, too. Fans and press don’t bother me.
Atlanta is 10-1. The hype is so loud, honestly, I don’t hear it anymore. Beau and Colt are deaf to it, too.
They say they’re just having fun playing ball. It’s like since they secretly know it’s Beau’s last season, the pressure is gone. They’re soaking up every moment on the gridiron like they’re back in high school. Half the time they play, they smile like they huffed laughing gas.
It’s so damn cute. I’m so proud and happy, but not now.
Beau is so sexy, annoying the shit out of me.
Finally, I can’t take it. I lean toward him, trying to widen my eyes while I demand, “What are you staring at?”
“Kitten, if I tell you, you’ll get mad.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll start putting toothpaste in your golden Oreos again. Or make more caramel candied onions instead of apples for Halloween.”
Colt chuckles. “Fuck, that was funny.”
The memory of our Tricks and Treats Halloween trip with Zar and Nick to that private island of fucks and fun with their friends gives Colt the belly laughs again.
“Dude,” he says, “her candied onions made you cry for an hour. No boom, boom for you that night.”
Beau rolls his eyes, smiling at the memory, too, but I’m focused on this annoying minute.
“Just tell me, Beau. Please. What is it?”
Am I whining? Yep, I sound like a rich housewife on a reality show.
He lets out a long exhale, his face tender while I blink and blink and blink, the suspense killing me.
“Kitten,” he sighs, “what did you do to your lashes?”
“What?” I blink like a frog. One eye oddly, slowly, lazily blinks before the other blinks with an amphibious twitch across my face.
It makes him fight a smile. I see his nostrils flaring while he asks, “What did you do to them?”
“Nothing,” I lie, making it worse. I try not to blink, straining my eyelids. You know, like when you suddenly smell a fart and it wasn’t yours?
“They look different,” Beau softly says. “They make you blink like you have conjunctivitis.”
Colt snorts, then looks away. Smart man. He’s avoiding my blinking death stare.
“My lashes are perfectly fine.”
No, they’re not. They’re sticking like gooey price tags attached to my eyelids.
“They look pretty as usual,” Beau eases. “But you keep blinking like you’re caught in a dust storm or like you’re an animated character or like?—”
“Okay, okay. Enough with the similes.” I fight the instinct to blink and my eyes fight back, filling with water. “I might’ve tried something new. I wanted to look nice today. We’re meeting Forrest for the first time, and I wanted to make a good impression.”
“Babe,” Beau chuckles, “with all that blinking, the only impression you’re giving is that you’re a compulsive liar.”
“Beeaaauuuu.”
“Blaaaiiiirrrr.” He keeps laughing. “Babe, love tells the truth, right?”
“I need you to support the lies I tell myself. My lashes look perfectly natural.”
Just then, the top corner of my left eyelid, which has a super long lash that requires its own zip code, welds itself to my bottom lid, sticking like flypaper.
