Luck on the Line by Zoraida Cordova Page B

feel like your insides will burn, like my heart is rebooting from previous mechanical failures.
    “Wait—you dreamt about me?”
    He leans back, scratching his head. “Uhh—”
    “You were fine,” I say, putting a stop to the awkwardness before it gets out of hand. I can’t go down this road. “You probably took your clothes off in your sleep. You were dressed when I left.”
    He arches an eyebrow for a second. “Alright.”
    “We’re good. Our truce still stands. The truth is, I need your help for all of this. I don’t know what I was thinking, telling Stella I could do this.”
    It’s the first time I’ve admitted it aloud.
    He nudges my shoulder again. “I got you.”
    For a moment, he’s back. It’s the James that’s there when we’re alone together. The tension in his shoulders eases, as well as his smile.
    The back door opens, letting in that chilly after-the-rain air. Nunzio runs a hand across his buzzed hair. He’s got on a white tank top that stretches across his broad chest and a tattoo with the name Lydia in script under his collarbone. He grins when he sees James take three steps away from me.
    “Whatcha been doing?” he says.
    “Don’t start,” James says.
    “I’m just asking a question.” Nunzio wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
    “I’m out of here.” I start making a break out of the kitchen.
    “You’re not going to the game?” Nunzio asks. His chef’s coat long gone.
    “Game?” I ask.
    James unbuttons the front of his chef’s coat, and I’m a little disappointed that he’s wearing a t-shirt underneath. “Mrs. Mark Teixeria over here wouldn’t be into it.”
    “Who the hell is that?” I ask, only to receive pained groans from the guys.
    Truth is, I hate baseball. It is the slowest sport on the planet. I’d rather watch drama queen soccer players fake injuries or hockey players beat the shit out of each other. The only reason I was wearing a baseball cap is because I stole it from my roommate as payback for her eating all of my food. Plus I hadn’t washed my hair in days. The baseball cap was my version of those medieval cones women wore to trap the smell because they couldn’t wash their hair every day. At least, that was my take away from high school World History.
    “Your mom left us tickets,” Nunzio says.
    Funny that my mom didn’t mention anything to me . But I’m not hurt. I’m used to Stella forgetting about me every now and then. “Oh. Right.”
    The boys get really awkward, because they know I’m just trying to save face.
    Nunzio flexes his bicep. “I have to bail though. I’m making dinner for a ten and a half.”
    James shrugs.
    “A ten and a half?” I say. “Do I even want to know what that is?”
    “She’s beyond the scale. She’s a supermodel, but she eats like a pig. It’s awesome .” Nunzio starts walking out of the kitchen and we follow. “So Lucky, you should take my ticket. Once you get past the third beer, you’ll start having a good time.”
    “That’s what my first boyfriend said to me on prom night,” I say. It’s a lie, but boys like that joke. It’s like I’m one of them. James doesn’t look like he approves so much.
    “Yoooo, you’re a trip. You’re nothing like your moms.” Nunzio grabs my face and kisses each cheek. He slaps James’s hand in the way guys have of feeling super manly from a single handshake, then slaps James’s shoulder. “Please, do everything I would do.”
    “Go feed your model,” James says, pushing him down the hall towards the offices.
    “Good luck,” I yell as he grabs his duffle bag and heads out the door.
    “I don’t need luck,” he winks. At least someone here doesn’t.

Chapter 16
    Fenway is more of a church to Boston than some of the actual churches in Boston. When Felicity realized I hadn’t been invited to the game, she put on her best owl-eyed-expression and said, “Ohmigod, I thought Stella told you!”
    Truthfully, I shouldn’t be hurt. It’s a safe assumption