Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(36)

She gave me a look. “What was that for?”

“What?”

She wiggled her finger between us. “Whatever that little dance just was.”

I shrugged. “You haven’t heard of the sidewalk rule?”

“The what?”

“You know, the guy always walks on the side closest to the street.”

Mary stopped walking at that, and when I turned, she pegged me with a bored expression before she blinked slowly like I was stupid.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I pressed a hand to my chest. “I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

Her face warped with the restraint of holding back a laugh, and then she started walking again. “Please. As if your body would stop a car from plowing over me.”

“It might,” I said, puffing my chest a little. I smirked down at her over the top of my sunglasses. “You don’t see what I do in the weight room.”

She poked my side hard enough to deflate me and then smiled in victory when it worked, skipping a few steps ahead.

“You wanna be chivalrous?” she asked, spinning to face me as she continued walking backward. Her ponytail swung with the motion, and something tightened in my chest at the sight of her so light and carefree. “Go to a women’s march. Vote for a female to take office. Read a book on feminism. Stop using pussy as an insult.”

“Hey, I already learned that lesson. Only took you telling me once.”

She leveled me with a look. “You’re telling me you haven’t said it since that day?”

“On my mom’s life,” I said, holding up two fingers in a solemn swear.

Mary just shook her head with a smile, whipping back around and giving me that glorious view of her ass in those cut-off shorts again.

And I reveled in the feeling that she might actually enjoy having my company.

We walked the market for about another hour before we were both sweating profusely and ready for air conditioning. Mary had parked in the same garage as me, so we walked toward it together.

We were almost to it when a scraggly, too-thin cat sauntered out from under one of the buildings and directly into our path.

I paused and said, “Ick,” at the same time Mary bent and said, “Aww!”

She glared up at me as I barked out a laugh, and then she was holding her hand out and trying to woo the thing.

It was fluffy and mostly gray, but with a white chest and feet and a little spot on its head. When it flicked its tail up, I noted it was a girl, and she walked right up to Mary, sniffing her fingers for just a moment before she nudged her head into Mary’s palm and curled her back to get every inch of affection she could.

“Well, hello, sweet girl,” Mary cooed with a giggle, and when the cat weaved between her legs before quite literally knocking Mary onto her ass and climbing into her lap, Mary let out a loud laugh, her face lifting to the sky.

Her eyes landed on me next, and they doubled in size like a cartoon character, her long black lashes batting up at me. She was a complete contradiction in that moment — the tattooed, dark-humored artist turning soft at a cat curling up in her lap.

“Mary,” I warned. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Leo,” she pleaded, her bottom lip protruding as she held the cat up for me to get a better view. “Just look at her.”

“I see her, and I’ll say it again — don’t even think about it.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into a parking spot next to Mary.

At a fucking pet store.





Mary

Palico sat purring in my lap a few days after the Fourth of July party, her warm body curled up into a little ball. Leo didn’t stand a chance against me once I gave the little furball a name, and although he’d never admit it, I knew from just the past couple nights that he adored the thing as much as I did.

With one fingertip, I absentmindedly stroked the white spot on her head that led down to her little pink nose as I watched ESPN with Kyle and Braden.

I hated ESPN. I wasn’t following a damn thing, really, just sitting there in a comfortable silence and letting my eyes gloss over. Even though it had been a few days, it seemed we were all still recovering from the party. I’d spent most of the night in my bedroom with Palico, anyway, getting her settled and making sure the noise didn’t bother her too much.

That cat was as cool as a cucumber. She watched me most of the night with a bored flick of her tail as if to say, “You think this has anything on the streets of Boston, kid? I’ve been through worse. My question is why aren’t you out there partying?”

So, once I felt like she was comfortable, I joined the rest of the rowdy crew downstairs. And while I spent most of my night talking to Giana and Riley and steering clear of the booze, we all stayed up until sunrise, and the lack of sleep alone made it hard to get into a routine again.

I had no idea how the guys did this during football season, especially on nights when they knew they had practice the next morning.

My phone aggressively vibrating on the coffee table woke Palico, and she begrudgingly stretched and sauntered off my lap when I leaned forward to see who it was. Hope bubbled in my chest at the sight of Margie’s name, and I slipped into the kitchen to answer.

“Hey, Margie.”

“Hey, kiddo,” she greeted back, that smoker voice I loved so much filling my ears. Margie seemed less like a landlord and more like a crazy aunt who took care of you, but also was first in line to get you booze when you were underage.