Page 94 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot
“They’re not losers.”
Is she defending these lazy assholes who can’t be bothered to text her back?
How hard is it?
I scoff. “Any guy who doesn’t at least text you to say he’s not interested is a fucking loser.” Or lazy atminimum.
Her lips twitch, but the sadness in her eyes doesn’t fade. "You’re annoyingly good at motivational speeches, you know that? Maybe dating someone like Austin is rubbing off on you."
I shrug, letting a smirk creep onto my face. "What can I say? I’m thriving or whatever."
My sister watches me for several seconds, tapping her long nails against the ceramic handle on her mug. Opens her mouth, then closes it.
“It’s easy for you to stand there and tell me not to settle for losers when you literally have women trying to get naked in your hotel rooms.”
She is not wrong.
That happens on occasion.
“I don’t think you can take offense to me telling you to stop settling and maybe raise your standards a little."
Nova wrinkles her nose. "Oh—'cause my standards are so low?
Newsflash: it’s not like I go searching for these guys. They find me. Like stray cats, but with worse manners and no social skills."
"Then stop feeding them.”
She blinks at me for a moment absorbing my wisdom, then a genuine laugh bursts out of her.
It’s the first time she’s really laughed all morning, and it’s enough to make me grin.
“Can I ask you a question?” Nova asks once she’s done giggling. “Why haven’t you ever set me up with one of your teammates on like…a date?”
I raise an eyebrow. Never not once has my sister mentioned wanting to be set up with one of the guys on my team.
Never.
Not that I would do it.
"Uh. You mean the guys who thinkTaco Bellis an appropriate pre-game meal and that socks are optional in public?"
No offense to Taco Bell, but you get what I’m saying. Most dudes our age aren’t exactly taking women to fancy restaurants and sweeping them off their feet. They take them for coffee.
Or: to the bar then back to their place for a quick fuck.
She smirks, crossing her arms. "But at leastoneof them has to be decent, right? Like, statistically?"
"Statistically, sure," I say, rubbing my chin to make it seem as if I’m seriously mulling the idea over. "But then you realize they’re overgrown toddlers with too much testosterone. Jank once missed practice because he “lost track of time” watching videos of cats riding Roombas. Ivan can’t remember to pay his phone bill, so he uses everyone else’s to order UberEats."
I frown at the idea of her dating either of them.
My sister tilts her head. “Knock it off. Be serious, I’ve met a bunch of them, they’re not terrible. Maybe you’re overprotective and it wouldn’t kill you to do me the same favor I did you.” She hesitates. “Things are going well with Austin, maybe you could…you know. Hook me up.”
Hook her up?
Over my dead body.
“What about the new assistant coach?”
