“Where did you even get tickets to a hockey game? Are you even a hockey fan?”
“I like the butts.” Okay, that’s fair. “And remember those photographs I sold to that former pro-baseball player? I guess he’s some sort of hotshot sports agent now and had some tickets to spare. I wasn’t about to say no.” She bats her lashes at me. “Please, Harper, please. It’s this Friday and I really want to go.” “I hate sports. You know that.” “I do know that. But you know I hate when you hide things from me, and well”—she waves her hand across the table, sitting back in her chair with confidence—“look at us now.” Dammit. “That’s a low blow.” She lifts a shoulder. “Told you I’d guilt-trip you.” She did. She warned me. “Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Fine. But I plan to complain the entire time.” She grins triumphantly. “I would expect nothing less.”
CaribaFiesta19 июня 2022“Where did you even get tickets to a hockey game? Are you even a hockey fan?”