“We’ve talked on the phone.” He says the lie with so much confidence that even I doubt myself for a second. “We just talked last night.”

I’ve been avoiding Quinton since our lunch from hell last weekend. It’s actually been really easy. I’ve been so busy finalizing details and meeting with vendors for the launch party that we’ve only had time to communicate via text and email. At first, I was super thankful for this. I was pissed and wanted nothing to do with his stupid, but still handsome, face. But as the days have passed and my temper has cooled, I know I need to apologize for how I reacted. But because I can be an adult sometimes, I want to do it face-to-face.

“No we didn’t.” I fall back onto my pillow, wishing I was still asleep. I wonder if he can hear my eyes rolling from wherever he is. “We were texting, and texting is not talking on the phone.”

“We’ve communicated on the phone before. Is that better?”

If I weren’t so tired, I might be impressed that we’re managing to fight about this.

“Sure, fine. Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up.”

His deep sigh in my ear is a not-so-gentle reminder of my ability to grate on his nerves. “Dammit, Elliot. I was hoping this early you would at least be too tired to have an attitude.”

“There isn’t an hour of the day I wouldn’t be fully prepared to have one with you. I’m hanging up now.” I pull the phone away from my ear, fully intending on hanging up when his voice comes over the line.

“Fine! I just got off the phone with my agent,” he says like that should mean something to me.

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“You make everything so difficult.” He compliments me without realizing it. “He’s been trying to make it out here for the last couple of weeks and now that he’s here, he wants to talk with you before the launch. I was wondering if you could go to the game with him? He’ll pick you up so you can talk on the way. I share a box with Justin Lamar’s wife, but she’s cool and you guys will be able to have some privacy if you need it.”

Here’s the thing, even though I would like to make Quinton squirm and worry that I won’t get on board, he’s offering me box tickets! I would’ve said yes to driving myself and sitting in the nosebleed section. But no hassle and a box? With Lavonne freaking Lamar?! Hell. Fucking. Yes!

I don’t say that to him, though. He can never know that he’s unintentionally fulfilling one of my bucket list items.