Page 61 of Game Plan

Mason turned fast, bumping into me, and I smacked my face into the paint roll he had just reloaded.

“Oh shit.” His eyes rounded. “You look like a Smurf.”

I used my finger to remove the paint around my eyes.

“Let me.”

I dropped my hand after rubbing it off on my T-shirt.

He used his own shirt to wipe my face—removing as much paint as possible—and winced. “I think you need a shower.”

“It’s that bad?”

“If you were to dress as Smurfette or some sort of alien next week for Halloween, then you could rock it like that for a few days.”

I scrunched up my face, my skin straining with the now-dry paint coating it. “I’m going as a cop, not a blue humanoid creature living in a mushroom.” My hand flew to my mouth. Why was I always blurting things I shouldn’t in front of him?

“A cop?”

“Erase the last ten seconds and forget what I just said.”

“Mel. I will never be able to forget your wearing handcuffs and a baton. I’m hot all over just picturing it in my mind.”

I backhanded his chest. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You can’t stop my imagination once it’s in motion, baby. That’s not how it works.”

Baby. That word again.

“I should go back to my dorm and shower before my shift at Lola’s.”

He blocked my exit. “No way am I letting you out of here looking like you’re suffering from the worst case of argyna known to mankind.”

“Argyna?”

“It’s when toxic levels of silver build up in your body, and your skin turns blue. It’s my ten-point word.”

“I didn’t know this condition existed.”

“I watched a documentary about rare diseases a while back.”

“Interesting. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Always a pleasure to teach you new stuff, Shepard.” He cast a glance down before setting his eyes back on mine. “Shower here.”

I shook my head with too much velocity. “No way. I can’t shower here.”

“Sure you can.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

I tipped my hip forward. “Make me.”

His eyes lit up with devilish sparks, and I knew I shouldn’t have said that. I was in big trouble. Why couldn’t I just shut up for once?

Before I had time to take back my words, Mason scooped me up over his shoulder. I kicked my feet. My makeshift bandana fell to the floor. “Mase, lower me down.”