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“It’s the slutty bad-boy dick magic,” Cami pipes up. “Makes them hotter.”
“You sure we’re good here?” Coach says, still glancing around. “Nobody else wants to pull out their dick and compare sizes? Wave them around to see who the biggest man here is?”
“Number two, and this is very important, so I hope you’re fucking listening. I will not clean up my language for you assholes. If your delicate sensibilities can’t handle a few f-bombs, then you have no business playing hockey.” He writes something else. Fuck You
“There’s no unclustering this fuck.”
“Is that what you need from people? To be told what a good girl you are?”
“Man, you really hate talking.” “Thank you for noticing.” “Sweetie. That wasn’t a compliment. You know who else doesn’t talk? Serial killers.”
“All right. Somebody else go. We’re going to shower each other with fucking compliments until we’re all swimming in goddamn dopamine.”
“Let’s not make ‘flower boy’ a thing. I have a reputation to protect.”
“So I was looking up butterfly mating habits the other day and I discovered—” “I’m sorry, no,” Gigi interrupts. “You can’t just gloss over that. You were looking up butterfly mating habits?”
“Sorry for not returning your calls sooner, but…” I trail off, then opt for brutal honesty. “I didn’t want to.”
I have successfully managed to turn Briar’s grumpy, bad boy hockey co-captain into a hold-my-purse boyfriend. I’ve won the world.
“Stan, please don’t say the words spray and seed in my presence again.”
“Nobody likes failure, G. But I maintain that this isn’t failure. This is just one moment in time.” “A moment in time,” she echoes weakly. “Yes, and right now, in this moment, you’re down. But that’s okay because I’m here to lift you up.” “Always?” she whispers, peering at me with those big gray eyes. “Always. You fall, I pick you up. Always.”
“Garrett, sit down. I didn’t bring your fake beard and glasses.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Ryder and I are friends now.”
