Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

The caption: Can’t sleep.

Oh, lovely, neither can I.

Is she thinking of me? Is that why? Instagram is challenging me to message her. While I understand it gives everyone the opportunity to comment, I truly feel it’s speaking to me.

Am I about to slide into Posey’s DMs?

I sure as fuck am.

I sit up and type quickly.

Me: Me neither.

The app tells me she’s seen it, and then those glorious dots appear.

Posey: This is not good, Hoenes. We have to be on our game tomorrow.

Me: We’ll be fine.

Posey: We’re playing the Wild. I’m nervous. Their PK is insane.

Me: I believe in us.

Posey: I hope you’re right.

Me: I usually am.

Posey: Hardly.

When she sends me a winky face emoji, I draw in a deep breath.

Me: Why can’t you sleep?

Posey: ??? No clue. You?

Me: My mind is moving a mile a minute.

Posey: Me too. Sucks.

Me: Yeah.

Posey: I’m starving too. I’m eating celery and peanut butter. It’s depressing.

Me: Ew. Who eats that?

Posey: My mom and her no-carb self.

Me: LOL. Go buy some cookies.

Posey: I wish. I really need to try to sleep.

Posey: I’ve been saying that for the last two hours, though.

Me: I’ve got cookies.

Posey: Rude. Don’t tease me.

Oh. Oh fuck, I want to tease her.

With my teeth.

Me: You can come here.

Posey: ??? Why? If I’m gonna go out, I can get cookies myself and not eat yours.

At this point, why doesn’t she just kick me in the balls too?

No. Be direct, Hoenes.

Me: We could hang. And eat the cookies.

Posey: We could hang?

Me: Yeah.

Posey: Is that a good idea? I mean, what would we do?

Me: I think it’s a fantastic idea because I can come up with a lot of things for us to do.

She sends me the wide-eyed emoji, and I can’t help but grin.

Posey: Just so we’re clear, are you sliding into my DMs to hit on me?

Me: Pathetically, yes.

Posey: I’m shocked.

Me: Why?

Posey: I never thought you’d go about it this way. I thought you’d do it at the bar.

Me: I did, and you blew me off. So here I am, offering carbs and a damn good time.

Posey: Wait, are you drunk?

Me: A little.

She sends the eye-rolling emoji.

Posey: So that’s why you’re doing this?

Me: It may have given me liquid courage, but I wanted to do it at the bar.

Another eye-rolling emoji.

Posey: We have a game tomorrow.

Me: Are you blowing me off again?

Posey: If it makes it any better, I don’t want to.

Me: Then don’t.

Posey: I’ll see you tomorrow morning, but I’m unsure about this.

Posey: It could make things weird.

Me: Or it could be pretty fucking great.

Posey: Sober up, Hoenes. We have a game tomorrow.

I groan loudly and throw my phone across the bed.

Well, if I was worried about making things awkward, I don’t have to worry anymore.

Because I just did.

* * *

I drank way too much last night.

The venti black coffee I got at Starbucks is helping, but I’m not looking forward to morning skate. Beside me, Wes hasn’t stopped laughing.

“You didn’t.”

I groan. “Please stop talking.”

“I cannot believe you slid in there and said that. She probably thinks you wanted a booty call.”

“Great, because I was so excited to see her already,” I say dryly.

He snorts. “I can’t believe you did that. Did you even think first? That’s so damn pathetic.”

I groan even louder. “Please, don’t consider my feelings.” He just laughs. “I wasn’t thinking. I wanted her. God, I fucking want her. I love the way she laughs—you should have seen her last night. And, dude, for real, things were going really great. I felt good about it. I really thought we would take it back to my place, but she blew me off.”

He looks over at me when we stop at a red light. “Maybe, just maybe, she isn’t the kind of girl to go home with a dude after the first date.”

“She said it wasn’t a date.”

He squints at me. “Jesus, do you even know how to land a woman?”

“Fuck you,” I sneer. “I was drunk, horny, and really frustrated. I just wanted her, so I slid in there, and now I’m unsure how to face her.”

Wes grins. “I’m praying she calls you out or laughs in your face. This is classic.”

“I hate you,” I say, but he just laughs. “Is it really as bad as I think it is?”

Wes whips his head toward me, grinning from ear to ear. “You hit on our coach after lusting over her for over a week, and she turns you down. So you hit on her in DM while you were trashed. Yes, this is as bad as you think, and I think it’s awesome.” He guffaws. “It’s like a really bad Netflix rom-com. So damn funny.”

“I’m so glad my life is a comedy for you,” I deadpan, but then I groan. I really don’t want to face her. She will probably laugh at me. God, pretty girls make me stupid.