Mateo:
Jeez, Isa. Take a man out to dinner and movie first. But go on…
What the fuck?
Is he… are we? I stuff my phone into my bag, even though I can hear it vibrating with more messages.
I was pretty sure I was trying to put the fear of God in him with whatever intimidation I may hold as an unhinged single woman with nothing left to lose.
But Mateo? Mateo was fucking flirting with me. Or was he only teasing? The man does have a sense of humor once he’s not hell bent on giving me a hard time. But we’ve never texted like this before. It’s usually only about Anna, and we keep it very PG. Or at least we used to.
“Is the vehicle too warm, Isabella? I can make it cooler in here if you like,” Hank says from the driver’s seat.
“Huh? Um, no, it’s fine. Thanks.”
“You sure? You coming down with something, then? Because your cheeks are rosy. I can see it all the way from here.”
I die a little inside. Not even the evening glow of the stoplights can hide how Mateo affects me.
“Nope. All good. Still flying high from that win,” I lie.
Hank nods enthusiastically as he pulls us into the building garage. “It was quite the game, wasn’t it? Make sure to tell the boss he looked great out there tonight. Even when it seemed like he wanted to tear into the other team.” He chuckles good-naturedly. “I swear, he keeps getting better and better.”
“Yeah, he’s a real peach,” I mutter to myself as I get out of the vehicle and start heading toward the elevator with Anna in tow.
“Thanks for putting on the jersey. Papi looked much happier when you had it on,” Anna says to me, followed by a big yawn.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s bath time, then bedtime for you, little lady. We’ve had an exciting and long day, so I think it’s time for us to call it a night. What do you say?”
She releases another big yawn, this one triggering one of my own. “Yeah, I think I only have one good story in me tonight, Isa. Sorry to disappoint.”
I burst into laughter as we enter the elevator and make our way upstairs. “In that case, I’ll go ahead and let your dad know we’re calling it an early night so he can call you before you pass out.”
I dig my phone out of my bag to see four messages from Mateo waiting for me.
Mateo:
Sorry. That was a joke.
Mateo:
Shit. I took it too far, didn’t I?
Mateo:
I’m heading into a postgame interview now. Might take about half an hour or so. Please text me regardless once you see this. I’ll keep my phone on me. Again, I’m sorry.
Mateo:
We should talk when I get home tonight.
The first two messages make me chuckle, knowing that Mateo is squirming in his seat just as badly as I have been this whole day. The third one makes me feel a little guilty, because I can see he’s genuinely panicking now.
But the last message? Yeah, that one woke me right the fuck up.
There’s no chance in hell I’ll be able to go to sleep after he drops a “we should talk” text on me.
Is this it? The dreaded moment I get my third and final strike?
