There’s always one slutty boy in every crew
RYDER:
We still on for later?
ME:
Yup. Does it still work for you guys?
RYDER:
We’re good.
ME:
Thanks again for doing this.
RYDER:
Sure.
ME:
It must kill you that there isn’t a decent shrugging emoji. The current one has too much emotion in it for you. It’s the hand motions. Far too dramatic to accurately depict your shrugs.
RYDER:
Is it too late to cancel?
ME:
I love your quirky sense of humor! Kills me every time.
Ryder’s last message is the middle finger emoji.
Yeah. That one suits him best.
It’s taken us a few days to reschedule our session. Classes started on Monday, along with my official hockey practice schedule, so it was difficult to get on the same page and find a time that worked for both of us. And Beckett, I guess. He’s tagging along tonight to help with Ryder’s drills.
Until then, I still have some errands to run, including one that’s more treat than errand: meeting my uncles at Della’s Diner.
I grew up with a lot of uncles. Luckily not the creepy kind who say inappropriate things at weddings and hit on all the teenage girls.
“I hear you’re single again.”
Or maybe they do say inappropriate things.
“That’s old news,” I inform Dean Di Laurentis. “Did it arrive to you by carrier pigeon?”
“No, smart-ass. I’ve known for a while. We just haven’t had any alone time since it happened.”
I reach for my coffee. We’re in a corner booth, the tabletop littered with half a dozen slices of pie because my gluttonous uncles couldn’t settle on one flavor so they ordered one of each.
Uncle Logan stepped outside to take a phone call from my aunt Grace, one of my three godmothers. I’ve also got three godfathers, because my parents didn’t want to choose between all their best friends but still had to make a decision. Although my family isn’t religious, my grandparents on Mom’s side insisted on a christening when Wyatt and I were born. The pictures from that day are literally ridiculous. An entire sports team of godparents standing up on that altar holding Wyatt and me as infants in our filmy white gowns.
I will say, I do love that we have a big family. Or found family, anyway. Both my parents are only children, and neither of them had massive clans growing up. An aunt here and an uncle there, hardly any cousins. My dad wasn’t even speaking to his own father in the years leading to his death. Dad didn’t attend the funeral. So it’s really nice being surrounded by aunts, uncles, and cousins. There’s always been a lot of love in my life.
Also, a lot of nosy questions.
“Is my dad forcing you to talk about this?” I ask before taking a sip of coffee.
“I mean, he brought it up, but do I look like the kinda guy who gets forced to do anything?”
Dean flashes a smile. He’s got those chiseled male model looks that keep getting better with age. I’ve seen pictures of him from his college days and he was smokin’ back then, but I think he looks even better now.
“I was surprised to hear about the breakup. You and Colson seemed like you were made for each other. Both play hockey. Both good-looking.”
“Well, right, because that’s all it takes to be soulmates. A shared sport and somewhat equal level of attractiveness.”
“Got that sarcasm gene from your mother, I see.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. But yes, Case and I are broken up, we’re not getting back together, and that’s all I’m going to say on that subject.”
“So then you’re playing the field now?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t phrase it that way, but sure.”
Dean’s features crease with resignation. “Damn it. I really didn’t want it to come to this.”
“What does that mean?” I ask suspiciously.
I’m instantly on the alert. For a bunch of grown men, my dad’s friends are capable of shenanigans I never anticipate.
He reaches for the messenger bag beside him on the bench. When I first saw it, I teased him about carrying a man purse. But I guess he keeps his work in it. Dean coaches the women’s team at Yale, which I suppose makes him the enemy, but not entirely since they’re not in our conference. If we play them in the finals, though, watch out. Uncle or not, I’ll happily destroy his girls.
“Here,” he says.
I almost spit out my coffee when he places a box of condoms on the table.
No, not just a box.
A very large value pack containing a staggering fifty condoms.
“What the hell is this?” I squawk. “Oh my God.”
“I can’t have you acting irresponsibly now that you’re single. Better safe than sorry, Gigi.”
“How much sex do you think I have? Nope, wait—” I hold up my index finger, my tone stern. “Don’t you dare answer that.”
Dean snorts. “I’m just saying… I remember college. Vividly. All the hormones. The parties. I want you to be safe, all right? And don’t tell your parents I gave you these.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m never speaking about this again.”
“Also,” he continues, cutting off a piece of the pecan pie with his fork, “before you get involved with any dude, make sure he’s not the slut of the group. And if he is, get him tested. Because there’s always one slutty boy in every crew.”
I already regret what I’m about to ask, but curiosity wins. “Who was the slut in yours?”
“Tucker,” is the instant reply.
I take another sip from my coffee mug, eyeing him over the rim. “Tucker,” I echo doubtfully.
“Of course.” Dean blinks innocently. “Dude knocked up a woman on a one-night stand. Can’t get more promiscuous than that.”
“The way he describes it, it was love at first sight with Aunt Sabrina.”
“Tucker says a lot of things. Especially regarding me and my supposed ladies’ man reputation.” Dean winks. “Don’t believe a word of it.”
John Logan chooses that moment to return to the booth. He stares at the monster box of condoms. Then he glances at Dean and sighs.
“Yeah, I’m telling her father.”
“Like hell you are.”
Logan slides in beside me and pulls one of the pie dishes toward him. Strawberry rhubarb. I’m glad that we were able to make this quick meetup work. They both happened to be in the area today, which rarely ever happens because Uncle Dean lives in New Haven with his family.
“Can you put those away?” Logan grumbles at Dean. “Waitstaff is totally gonna get the wrong idea.”
“I can’t take them home with me,” protests Dean. “Allie’s gonna have questions.”
“I will accept your condoms,” I say graciously. “But only so I can put them in a big bowl and hand them out at parties.”
“Good call. I’m sure it’ll be much appreciated at the frat house.”
Logan glances at me as he chews a bite of his pie. “You back together with Colson?”
“Oh my God. Can we please drop this subject?”
“I liked that guy,” he says.
“Yeah, well, it’s over. And no, I’m not dating anyone else right now. And no, I’m not going to be using this bulk box of condoms. But if I was going to use them, I would never tell either one of you. Ever. So…”
“Yeah, I don’t want to know,” Logan agrees, grinning.
The bill arrives then, and the two begin bickering about who’s going to pay it. I’m pretty sure it’s only like twenty bucks, and finally, I grab it myself.
“Please, let me treat my dear uncles.” I offer a beaming smile. “Young people should always be kind to the elderly.”
They both balk at me.
“Oh, I’m going to remember that,” Dean growls.
“I’m telling your father,” Logan adds.
“He knows he’s old. You don’t need to remind him.”
I pay the check, then tuck my wallet, along with the rink keys, into my oversized leather purse.
I stare at the stupid box of condoms. After a beat of hesitation, I shove it in my bag too, mostly to show them I’m cool and carefree and don’t blink at things like bulk condom purchases.
And then, before I know it, it’s time to go meet Luke Ryder.
