position tee.
“Yay.” I make exaggerated spirit fingers. “I’m so happy you like it.”
“Fuck yeah!” Kev cheers before Alex shoves him out of the way to show off his own. His is a graphic tee with a playbook on it, the words Oh! This was yours? Didn’t look like you were using it written beneath. I got both their shirts in tan, thinking it would contrast nicely with their dark brown skin. I should pat myself on the back for being right.
Noah pushes his way through them with a flourish in his Laces out, Dan tee. I may hate Instagram but figured if he liked the line from Ace Ventura enough to use it as part of his handle, he needed to have it on a shirt.
“Short Stack.” Trav lifts the laptop, stealing it away from Mase and moving off on his own.
“Hey QB1.” I have developed a soft spot for my boyfriend’s best friend. The charming playboy was doing a good job of wiggling his way into my heart on his own, and the day he started referring to me as his sister, I was done for.
“Please tell me you didn’t get this for B too?” He waves a hand under the There are TWO KINDS of people in this world, and being a QUARTERBACK is better than both lettering on his red t-shirt à la Vanna White.
“No. I got that one special for you,” I assure him then lean in to whisper, “You know you’re my favorite quarterback.”
“What the hell?” B shouts from behind me. It should come as no surprise he showed up in time for dinner earlier. “Not cool, Little D. Not cool at all.”
I wave him off while he complains to E about not raising me right and focus my attention back on Trav.
“Did Nana get hers?” Trav’s Nana is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. She gives off this Helen Mirren vibe with a royal air and a take-no-shit personality.
Trav nods. “I’ve already gotten a Snap from her in it, and she posted it on her Insta too.”
It’s pathetic that his grandmother is on social media and I’m too afraid to reactivate my account. I’m not the only one who thinks Nana is pretty much awesome sauce. Trav is constantly bitching about how she has more followers than him…and he has thousands.
Nana is another person who is a fan of all my shirts. I had a custom one made for her to wear when she takes on her role of super fan at Trav’s games. It’s black with red and white U of J lettering that reads: Forget BINGO. This Nana yells TOUCHDOWN! The O in down is a brown sequined football, and on the back is Trav’s #7. I also replaced the McQueen nameplate with Nana McQueen.
“I’m so happy she liked it.” I beam with pride.
“No.” Trav shakes his head, his hair flopping down over his eye. “Love, Short Stack, love.” He bats away the section of hair. “There was even a reference or two to you replacing me as her favorite.” He tries to scowl, but a smile manages to break free.
“You can tell her the feeling is mutual.”
Like I expected, a chorus of “What the hell!” greets my statement. JT goes as far as pulling my hair like we’re back in kindergarten.
“As much as I love you, QB1”—I elbow JT back—“can I have my boyfriend back now?”
The image on the screen goes wonky as the computer is passed from one set of hands to another, until…finally my gorgeous man is front and center. Except…
My lips twist down in a frown. “You’re not wearing your shirt.” I pout for good measure.
“You did give me more than one.” He arches a brow. “How was I supposed to choose?”
“Smooth,” JT cough-says.
“Anyway…” I side-eye my best friend for his elementary behavior and focus back on Mase. “Call me later?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He practically smolders through the screen, his light green eyes darkening to the deep forest green I’m used to seeing when we’re in bed—naked. Appropriate, I guess, given that I texted him earlier saying I had a gift I couldn’t send with the others and he needed to be alone to get it.
Like at the beginning of the call, we all cycle through our goodbyes and Merry Christmases.
“Love you, Skittles,” Mase says before hanging up.
“Love you too, Caveman.”
I blow him a kiss. Later can’t come fast enough, because Mase’s other gift sure as hell won’t land me on the Nice List.
Picking up the