Page 110 of Ice Me Out

“The only person who’s taking this wheel from me is Jesus. Now sit back and pay attention to your meeting before that airbag hits you in the chest.”

I blinked repeatedly. “You do know we’d have to crash in order for the airbag to deploy, right?”

“You never know when a deer might jump out,” Vera commented.

“She’s right,” Marlon said. “I almost hit a pack of deer the other day.”

“They are not called a pack of deer,” Boris corrected.

“Nobody asked,” Torres spat.

“It is herd of deer, not pack of deer,” Boris informed.

“Thanks, Brainiac,” someone quipped.

Coach clapped his hands.

“Alright, gentlemen. That’s enough. I’m sure we’ll meet the speed demon soon enough. Let’s focus. We got a game tonight.”

Grateful for Coach’s redirection, I locked in for the next hour and a half. Towards the end of the meeting, a text from the group text caught my eye.

Christiansen: Meeting at Netz after the game to discuss your WAG. Don’t make us come find you.

That’s just… great.

When WAGs Collide

Vera

I was sitting at my vanity, attempting to put on my lashes, when Monica pounded on my door like I was three months behind on rent, scaring the shit out of me. She didn’t wait for my reply and threw the door open.

“Will it kill you to kn—”

I stopped talking when she stepped inside with a massive bouquet in her arms that needed its own zip code. White and green roses spilled over her arm in a dramatic cascade. What made matters worse was that they were the exact same shade of Hart’s team colors.

“Tell me this man is not obsessed with you,” she announced, sticking her face into the bouquet for a whiff. “God, these smell amazing.”

I was still speechless. The roses were ridiculously extravagant, and absolutely something Hart would do without thinking twice. Monica gently laid them in my arms like we were exchanging a newborn baby.

“They do smell amazing,” I agreed after sniffing them myself. I ran my fingers across some of the petals while wondering what I did to deserve Hart.

“Is there a card?”

I quickly found the card and read it aloud. “He plays too much,” I sighed, rolling my eyes and tossing the card onto the vanity.

“Girl, what did he say?”

“And I quote: Congratulations. You’re my woman now.”

Monica fell onto my mattress and squealed like a stuck pig. I ignored her and messaged him.

Me: Hartford.

Sweet ❤️: Verydian.

Me: I received your flowers.

Sweet ❤️: What do you think?