Drew:Tacos. I can’t stop thinking about tacos.
Her reply was pure Brooke.
IOU:I never stop thinking about tacos.
She even wrote back again this afternoon, adding,Can’t wait to devour tacos—and you.
Rawr. The woman does like dirty talk. I replied withIf I weren’t heading into practice right now, I would tell you all the ways I want to devour you.
Tell me later, big stud,she’d said.
There’s time before we reach the hotel in Santa Monica to give her some more of my ideas. While the driver navigates through traffic, I tap out another text.
But before I hit send, my phone rings with a call from my buddy Patrick, and I answer right away. Bet he has good money news. “Let me guess. You made money turn into more money today.”
He laughs, then says, “So much you’re going to build a shrine to me for what I did.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s going to be one hundred feet tall, and you will lay gifts at my feet.”
“Are you dead in this scenario? Are you lying in the shrine? Paint the picture more fully for me. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
“And maybe I won’t tell you about the sweet deal I just got on a new IPO.For you.”
“Tell me. You know you want to,” I goad.
My longtime friend rattles off details of a stock trade he made for me when a new app went public this morning. It’s all Martian to me, but Patrick is a finance wizard, which is why he handles my portfolio. We go way back, and he’s magic when it comes to ROI.
“That sounds a lot like blah, blah, blah to my ears, but your blah, blah, blah usually makes me dollar signs, so go forth and do it,” I say.
“I am the king of blah, blah, blah,” he says, then takes a beat, shifting gears. “You ready for tonight? You feeling good? Need anything?”
Patrick is the big brother I never had. We grew up in the same apartment building, and our moms were best friends too. Still are. He’s two years older so he likes to check in on me, and it’s kind of sweet.
“I am. It should be fun. I hope the vibe is chilland not alltell me about the baby daddies and where they went.”
“And if anyone does ask you about the players who are gone, you just sayI’m just here to play football.Repeat after me.”
“I’m just here to play football,” I echo.
“Bingo. You can indeed be trained.”
I arf like a seal.
“Good boy,” Patrick says, then we say goodbye and hang up.
I return to my app, eager to keep chatting with my date, especially since—from the looks of the driver’s GPS—we’ve got about one more mile to go.
Plenty of time to pre-game with some dirty texting.
Drew:The countdown is on.In one hour and thirty minutes, I will be feeding you, and then fucking you.
IOU:Oh yeah, you will. But wait. Are you gonna do both at the same time?
Drew:Ha ha. Funny girl. You do love to catch me on technicalities. Let me amend my previous text. I will feed you, then fuck you, and then fuck you again and again till you’re shouting my name.
IOU:That all sounds good. But I’m totes down forfeedingandfucking too. Can you pull off that feat, stud?