Sin Bin (D.C. Stars, #5)

by Chelsea Curto

“What the fuck, Brody? You wear glasses? You can’t have all four things,” I say. “What are the four things?” he asks, pushing them up his nose. “Glasses. Backward hats. Gray sweatpants. Tattoos. It’s not fair.” “I don’t wear glasses. I use them at night when my eyes are tired and I’m doing the crossword puzzle. The print is too small.” “Oh my god.” I pull a pillow over my face and scream into it. “You’re not serious.” “When have you ever seen me joke about something, Hannah?” “Can I tell you something stupid?” “Nothing you could ever say would be stupid.” “I like you. I think you’re so fun. And, yeah, the mutual orgasms are great, but this?” I gesture between us, that same happiness from earlier when I first saw his text message making itself known. “This is even better.” “You know I don’t like talking to people.” A long pause. A slow blink behind his thick-framed glasses, and Brody adds, “But I like talking to you.”