Page 50 of How to Score Off Field

Shit.

I’m an idiot. I should have worn the tee shirt.

“Uh. I think I’m going to grab a water from the kitchen. You want anything?”

“Sure, if you’re doing water, I’ll do one too.”

I roll off the bed, pulling the door closed behind me before walking to the small, galley kitchen, and when I bend over to take two water bottles out, Miranda walks through the front door.

“Hey, roomie, home so—” She stops in her tracks. “Whoa. You little hoebag.” She makes a twirling motion with her hand. “Spin around for me once.”

I shake my head.

“Oh my god.” Her eyes go to the two water bottles. “Are you with someone?” she whispers. “Did you bring someone home?”

“Shhh, lower your voice,” I hiss.

“Lower my voice? I’m literally whispering.” She’s grinning from ear to ear. “So who is it in the bedroom? Have you had sex yet? Wait. Please don’t tell me it’s the best man, Billy.”

I roll my eyes as if I’d bring that idiot Billy back to her place. “It’s not Billy. It’s…” I move my mouth, but no sound comes out. “Drew.”

“Who?”

“Drew.”

“Oh my god, talk louder.”

“My brother has a girl at his place, and I invited him here so he would have peace and quiet.”

“Dude. WHO is in the bedroom?”

“Drew.” I mouth the word as clearly as I can so I’m not forced to say the name out loud. Miranda is being so damn loud.

“Wait. Back the fuck up. You have Drew Colter in your room, and you’re wearing that?!” Her eyes roam my body. “If you’re wearingthat, what the hell ishewearing?”

I shrug, water bottles in my hands beginning to condensate. “Boxers?”

“Oh my god, whose boxers?”

I shrug again. “I don’t know, Zero’s?”

“Are you fucking serious? He put on Zero’s shorts?” Her head shakes in disbelief. “I have to see this.”

I grab her arm when she tries to stalk toward the bedroom. “Don’t you dare!”

“Please. I have to look. There is no way that guy fits in my boyfriend’s boxer shorts. No fucking way.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t fit in Zero’s boxers,” I hurriedly say. “And I doubt he’d want you to stick your nose in there.”

“But this is my place, and what kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t say hello?”

“Um, you’re drunk, and I doubt he wants you oogling his naked body.”

“HE’S NAKED?” she shouts. “SHUT UP.”

I shush her again. “Shhh, oh my god, he’s wearing boxers. We just talked about this. We’re just watching TV, okay? Calm down. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Are you insane? Seriously, are you literally insane? You should see your tits in that shirt. I’m straight, but I’d go gay for you in that shirt.”