Page 22 of Last Night Was Fun

He responded as if he’d been waiting for her.

Well, then I can at least take comfort in knowing you’ll feel like shit tomorrow too.

Chances are high.

What’s your favorite hangover cure?

Greasy food and reality TV. Preferably something spicy and trashy, respectively.

Isn’t all reality TV trashy?

*Gasp* How DARE you. But yes, most of it is, and that’s why I love it.

I’m not big on reality TV, but greasy, spicy food is my love language.

The thought of suggesting they meet for breakfast to cure their mutual hangovers temptingly swam through Emmy’s mind. The opportunity to take their strange relationship to the next level had just leapt into their laps. Or perhaps they had subconsciously put it there as they were both looking for a way to naturally take the next step and meet in real life.

Reluctance washed over her. What they had, as bizarre as it was, was perfect. Inside her screen, he was everything she didn’t know she wanted: funny, sincere, understanding, thoughtful, honest. And she couldn’t help thinking he thought the same about her. She didn’t want to risk ruining anything by disrupting what they already had. Even if a piece of her ached to make him LOL in real life, to hear the sound of his voice. To touch him.

She was suddenly hot standing in the cramped hall. She squeezedher thighs together, but that only made the need to pee feel worse. She needed another distraction.

I haven’t heard any bird-band puns lately. Hit me.

I thought you’d never ask. *Ahem* The Beak Boys, Snoop Duckk, and The Pecksies.

Hmm. Not your best work.

Well, I did warn you I’m drunk.

Fair.

“Hey, are you going or what?” someone said, and pulled Emmy out of her reverie.

“Huh?”

A leggy woman with thick dark hair, a cat eye Emmy could only dream of, and a Tide jersey nodded at the bathroom door. “It’s open.”

“Oh! Sorry. I was distracted,” she said, almost dropping her phone when she tried to shove it in her purse.

The woman laughed a warm, throaty sound. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”

Emmy wasn’t sure what she had, but she pushed open the bathroom door and locked it behind her. Her feet stuck to the floor inside the small red room that was overcompensating with air fresheners to the point it made her eyes water, but it served its purpose. She washed her hands after and made her way back out into the bar.

“Jeez, Jameson, did you fall in, in there?” Silas joked when she plopped back down on the couch.

She cast him a glare and reached for the beer that had been refilled in her absence.

“I was going to come looking for you if you didn’t get back out here and save us from Olson. This fool hasn’t stopped staring at his phone since you left.” He lunged forward and tried to reach for Gabe’s phone, but he yanked it away. “Who are you even texting, dude? Got a new girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Ish,” Gabe said, and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Silas only laughed. “She must be special if she can tear your eyes away from the game. You’re usually over here running stats on a napkin.”

Gabe glowered at him and reached for his beer.

Silas let it go but only because someone hit a home run, and the bar erupted in delirium. Everyone was high-fiving and screaming. The noise from the stadium shook the ground. An inning later, the game ended in a victory, and they shared another round. And then another for good measure.

They eventually left the bar in pursuit of Pedro’s surprise. The game might have been over, but outside, the lively night was just getting started. Spirits were high, inhibitions low. Everything sparkled and spun with the special communal joy that only sports could incite.