Page 26 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
She’s a threat to my sanity.
I start unpacking containers while Peyton steals a piece of garlic bread straight from the bag.
“You couldn’t wait five seconds?”
“No.”
“Brat.”
“I’m not bratty.”
“You absolutely are.”
She gasps dramatically and tears off another piece of bread.
My phone buzzes against the counter.
Then again. And again.
I ignore it, opening containers of pasta and salad.
Peyton watches me suspiciously while scooping some food onto the plate I set in front of her. “Your phone’s blowing up.”
“It’s probably Connor.”
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
I take a long drink of water and continue ignoring it.
Peyton’s eyes narrow. “Is that the group chat?” She pulls her phone out from the pocket of my hoodie.
I stay silent.
The original group chat eventually expanded into a wedding-party chat that included Ford and Harper’s bridal party, as well as Gram.
Avalanche After Dark, however, remained strictly ours.
“Can’t be that. I don’t have any new messages,” Peyton says.
Another buzz rattles across the counter.
Then another.
“Wow,” she says softly. “They’re relentless.”
“They’re idiots.”
“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I almost smile.
The kitchen settles into something dangerously close to comfortable after that.
Peyton sits in my hoodie, eating fettuccine while soft music plays from the speakers. I turned it on, hoping it would drown out the noise from my phone blowing up.
