Page 60 of Crease Collision

OSKAR: That is not so nice, knasboll.

KAI: What does that mean?

OSKAR: Goober.

I make a stupid face before remembering he can’t see me.

KAI: You win. When you start speaking foreign tongues, I’m whipped.

He sends a selfie of him making a goofy face. Wish I’d thought of that.

OSKAR: You have not been whipped yet, but if you want…

The fire in my face isn’t even reasonable.

KAI: Not into that, but you could…

Delete.

I request a video call, and he answers on the first ring.

My heart kicks, then threatens to stall. He’s lying on a sofa, shirtless, with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. Damn, he looks like the thumbnail for a hot porn video.

“Hi, handsome.” His grin slides into something else. Still happy, and maybe a little content. “You look amazing.”

“You’re not bad yourself. Are all Swedish men as gorgeous as you? Because it’s completely unfair if they are.”

He treats me to a smirk. “You have been playing in the HFNA for a while, so you must know other Swedes. What is your opinion?”

“There’s no contest. Nobody else looks as good as you.”

The words are out. Fuck me.

He makes me lose my mind.

After sputtering a minute, I say, “What I mean is⁠—”

“Just leave it there, baby. I know you were not proposing.”

Now I feel like a fool. Why do I freak out over little things?

Unexpected warmth blooms in my chest, and I realize the pressure there has disappeared.

Wait! He called me baby. Should I⁠—

No. I wouldn’t be feeling warm if I didn’t like it.

Shit.

“You got a new comforter,” he says.

I look down, a little confused, then shake my head. “Not really. I have a different cover for every month.”

He rolls his eyes. “Every month? You would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you are very organized. Perhaps the most organized person I have ever known.”