Page 41 of Falling for Her

Me:

I don’t have a million blankets.

Finley:

Is that a yes or a no?

Me:

You don’t have to wash them.

Finley:

Yes! Later.

Me:

Later.

As the guys start to trickle back in with food, my phone beeps again. She’s texted me a picture of the two of them lying on their stomachs with their faces sticking out of the opening of the fort. It’s a mix of pillows, sheets, and blankets. The smiles on both of their faces say they’re having the best time.

Finley:

Best fort ever.

Me:

That looks like a lot of work went into it.

Finley:

My wrist is going to get carpal tunnel from folding up all of the sheets.

I don’t have a chance to answer her before she texts again.

Finley:

Why do you own five sets of sheets for your bed?

Me:

I don’t like to do laundry.

Finley:

Five sets is a bit extreme. Don’t you think?

Me:

Agree to disagree.

Martinez’s phone rings, and the whole room goes silent.

“Yeah.” He gets up. “On it.” He hangs up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We might be too late.” He runs out, and we all follow him. I get into the back seat of his truck.

“Are you fucking with me?” Johnson says as we ride down to where the meeting is going to be.

Finley: