“Thank you, sir. I’ll remember that,” I tell him.
During the break after the first quarter, I lean over and tell Josh we need to check his wound. I’ve tucked the supplies I need to dress it in my purse.
He stands and pulls me to his feet with his good hand. “Sure, let’s head to the kitchen.”
“Ew, Josh, no. I’m not changing a bandage in a kitchen. Find a bathroom.”
“Yeah, Josh,” Reagan says. “You’re such a dude.”
Josh ignores Reagan and slips his hand around mine as he turns toward the hall leading back toward the front of the house. Halfway down it, he stops at a door.
“Here we go.” He flips a light and we’re standing on the threshold of a bathroom the size of my bedroom.
I’ve learned not to gawk; any time I went home for a weekend with one of my sorority sisters, it was like this. I may not show it with a dropped jaw or lifted eyebrow, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this. Chandeliers and marble bathrooms. Real brass faucets and towels that had to cost at least as much as my TJ Maxx dress. Each.
“Sit.” I point to the closed toilet lid, and he obeys, holding his hand out for me. I pull the gauze and bandages from my purse.
“You doing okay?” he asks.
I shoot a look at him. “Of course. You?”
“Same. But I grew up in this house, so that’s kind of normal. You’re getting a lot of Browers today.”
I shrug. “It’s fine.” I unwind the bandaging on his hand and check the bite. “Looks good. We’ll do some ointment again, but next time, just wrap it without. You’ll want to keep it dry.”
“Why is ointment a gross word?” he asks.
“Is it?”
“Sami.” His voice is disbelieving.
“Oh, I’m Sami now?” I don’t know why I say it. It doesn’t matter what he calls me in front of his family.
“Yes, Sami. You’re Sami. Ointment is a gross word. Tell me you know this.”
I finish wrapping the wound up and tuck in the loose end. “Of course I know that. Everyone knows that.”
“Are you having fun?”
I straighten and meet his eyes, his question putting me on guard. “Doing first aid on my day off?”
“Hanging out with my family.”
No. I’m not comfortable in these kinds of environments. But again, it doesn’t matter how I feel around his family. “Yeah. It’s a good game.”
His phone buzzes with a text. He slides it from his pocket and sighs. “Presley.”
I fight a laugh. “You better check it.”
“No, thank you.”
“Please?” I say. “Consider it my payment for this unscheduled appearance.”
He shakes his head but reads the text, a smile spreading across his face as he turns it toward me.
PRESLEY:My friend Conrad will pick up my car for me tomorrow. Hope your bite is better. Text me when you’re done with both of the snakes in your life. I’m not waiting around Austin for you to figure this out.
“Wow.” I almost flick my tongue at him, snakelike, but I catch myself in time to recognize that this is a bad idea. At least, it is if I don’t want Josh to think about our flirting last night, and remember that we’re behind a closed bathroom door, and have his mind move on to kissing.
