“No, he’s going upstate. There’s a meet with another team this weekend,” I said, still staring at my phone.

“Athletes.” She rolled her eyes. “But you’d see him if you could?”

I looked up at her as I added his number to my phone, well aware I was still grinning.

“Let me see him.” She grabbed my phone, casually ignoring any expectation of privacy on my part. “Where is he?”

“I don’t have a photo,” I said, taking it back from her.

“Don’t be silly; get one from Instagram or Facebook or something.”

“I don’t have him on Facebook. I haven’t even checked any social media since—”

“Oh, please,” she said, already a bit drunk—and thankfully so, as far as I was concerned. “Last name?” She frantically typed on her phone.

“Cooper.”

Within two minutes—if that—Emma O’Brian had basically pulled up all the information that ever existed on Ethan Cooper, proving the reason women had yet to take control of the world was a mere choice—theirs. It was scary, but very impressive.

“Aw,” she said, smiling, before turning the screen for me to see. “Is this him?”

She showed me his profile pic. A selfie of him looking bored at a competition. All I did was nod, but apparently, I revealed something because from that point on, she stopped making the odd joke about him and actually became quite serious. She immediately texted me the pic, grabbed my phone as soon as I unlocked it, and added it to his contact. Then, she went back to drinking the fourth out of seven double vodkas she was to have that night.

Two hours later, I was helping her up the steps that led to the front door of my house. Once inside, I stopped before we reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Can you walk up to the third floor?” I asked her.

“Not without dying, no,” she deadpanned.

“Can I carry you?”

She raised both arms up and grinned. I took her in mine and up to my bedroom, where I tucked her in before going back downstairs to sleep on the couch. As I was just about to turn off the lamp, my phone lit up.

Are you up?

Yep

It’s not as fun sleeping alone

At least you’re not sleeping on the couch :(

Why are you on the couch?

There’s a girl in my bed

Should I feel threatened?

I smiled. “Not if you come over and share this couch with me

If I weren’t in Ithaca I’d be texting you from outside

I chuckled.

Sorry, that sounded creepy

After a pause, he texted again, Was that too creepy?

Yeah, but it wasn’t scary-creepy, so you’re fine

Oof

Now, saying ‘Oof’ is

Yeet?

haha

I wanna sleep with you

I was typing a reply when another text came in.