Eden Finley

What I was going to say is I think I knew I loved you weeks ago.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“Uh, you were fucking me with a dildo when it happened. Didn’t think it was the best time to bring it up.”

“You have a crush. On me.” The arrogance all hockey players possess shines through.

“You’re too old for anyone to have a crush on.”

“Just because my joints think I’m an old man doesn’t mean I’m not irresistible. I can still pull a guy in his early twenties. That makes me super-hot.”

“Besides, you’re going to love Maddox.”
“I’m sure I’ll love the straight guy who’s pretending to be gay because he’s a womanizing asshole with no balls to tell everyone the truth.”
She slaps my chest. “See, you already know him.”

My boyfriend hates me. Can’t say I blame him.

“My question is more important than that. Who’s your team?”
“Uh, as in baseball?”
“Duh.”
“Ummm …”
“You do like baseball, right?” Damon looks at me as if I’m about to slaughter a unicorn.
“I’m more of a football kind of guy.”
He checks his watch. “Three hours and this fake relationship is already over.”

I do a quick stop at my grandfather’s grave, kiss my hand and then place it on his headstone, and continue walking. “Is it weird I’m more comfortable here than in there?” I point to the church.
“That you’d rather be dead than married?” Damon asks. “Yeah, it’s a bit extreme.”

She slinks back in her seat. “Huh.”
“That’s all you have to say? Huh?”
“What, you want me to throw you a pride parade for figuring out you like dudes? I don’t give a shit who you fuck, so long as it’s not me.”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Mom says. Aunt Cheri stares at Mom in silent question. “I have a vegan option for you,” she adds.
Still a nutcase. Vegetarians, I can forgive. Vegans? Are they even real humans?

“Aww, you could become my brother-in-law,” she screeches.
I step back. “Whoa. Way too soon. I meant serious as in maybe calling each other the boyfriend label.”
“The manwhore in you isn’t dead after all. So close.”

Apparently, I’m a greedy bottom. Interesting.