See Me After Class(112)

“What did they say?”

“That they want to meet you.” She presses a kiss to my chest. “They asked if you might want to visit for Thanksgiving.”

I drag my fingers up and down her arm. “Are you . . . asking me to go home with you for the holidays?”

“Don’t tease me.”

Chuckling, I pull away just enough to be able to look her in the eyes. I should be terrified. Family events, Thanksgiving and Christmas in particular, were not fun times in the Turner household.

So, I should be terrified. Greer’s family, however, sound warm, inviting, generous with love, and accepting. And somehow, through Greer’s efforts, I might be a recipient of their affection too. My reward, though, is seeing Greer’s face right now.

She wants me there. She wants me to know her family. I caress her soft cheek, lean in close, and say, “Not teasing. I’d like to meet them, babe.”

“Seriously?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’d have to make sure Coraline has somewhere to go first—”

“She can come. The more the merrier. We can do a road trip.”

“Or we can fly first class. A road trip with my sister doesn’t sound appealing, no matter how much I love her.” She laughs, and I say, “You know, that’s a few weeks away.”

“I know. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Just making sure you’re okay with attaching yourself to me for that long.”

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter. You seem to have dug your arrogant claws into me.”

“Damn right.” I roll her to her back and hover over her, a large smile on my face. “If you get Thanksgiving, does that mean I get Christmas? Because I can go all-out for the holiday. I’ve kept all my grandparents’ decorations. We can have a Christmas for all our friends who might not be going home.”

“That sounds like so much fun.”

“But most importantly, it’ll be Christmas with you.”

Her hand falls behind my neck and pulls me down to her mouth. “Then it’ll be the best Christmas ever.”





“Shot. Everyone take a shot,” Gunner calls out, lifting a tiny glass.

I suck down the tequila and watch as my girl cringes after setting her glass down.

“I don’t think I can do one more,” she says. “Oh, dear lord, the burn. How many strikeouts does a team normally get?”

“Anderson is on fire,” Stella says, eyes trained on one of many TVs in the back room of the bar.

“Someone call the fire department,” Keiko yells right before falling off her stool.

“Jesus,” I say, bending down to help her up.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be taking a shot for every strikeout,” Greer says, swaying next to me.

Holding her finger to the sky, Keiko says, “The probability of predicting thirty-seven strikeouts during one athletic event is one in—hiccup—two hundred, trillion billion, ten.”

“It’s been eleven strikeouts,” Stella corrects her. “How many shots have you taken?”

“According to the level of bile that’s starting to rise, I’d surmise measurably fifty-two, but can’t quite be certain without the proper data analysis of blood alcohol levels.”

“If you had fifty-two shots, you’d be dead,” Greer says.

“Well, intoxication manifests double vision. Perhaps it doubles one’s counting competence.”

Talking quietly to Greer, I say, “I think she’s one step to the right from puking. We should get Kelvin.”

“Kelvin is currently outside, parked in his automobile, waiting for the barf signal.” Keiko chuckles. “I mean bat signal.”

“Why is he waiting outside? He could join us,” Greer says.

“I suggested he not observe me in such a rowdy state of mind.” Keiko flops against my arm and clings on. “But perhaps it is time. Bring in the well-proportioned man I call boyfriend. I need his gallant steed to take me home and then ravish my breasts.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Stella says, right before cheering with the rest of the bar.

“I’ll take her,” Gunner says. “Lindsay is almost here and I’m going to meet her outside.”

“What a modern man,” Keiko says, right before kissing my arm and throwing herself at Gunner.

Brow furrowed, he awkwardly walks her through the bar and to the exit.

“I hope she’s okay,” I say as Greer picks up her water and takes a long sip.

When she sets the glass down, she looks up at me and says, “I’m going to tell you right now, you look incredibly sexy tonight. That’s not the booze talking. And I love the way you’re holding my hand, and how you spoiled me all week with notes, and our date on Wednesday that seems to be a tradition now for us, and I wore this really slutty bra and underwear set for you tonight, but if I take one more shot, you’re never going to see it.” Fuck that. Sexy lingerie and Greer?

“So, some fresh air then?” I suggest.

She nods.

I take her hand and walk her out of the bar to sit on a bench, where we find Gunner.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Just need some air,” I say.

“Yeah, Lindsay isn’t coming for another ten minutes, but I wanted to sober up a bit before she got here.” He holds up a glass of water.