HIS LITTLE PET
If he were even a little bit uglier, it might have been ten times easier to bear.
I poured myself a glass of cold water, drank it down in one gulp, and forced a straight face again. When I walked back into the living room, Mave was already packing his things into his duffel bag.
"Coach texted," Mave said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "We have an emergency team meeting before tomorrow's game."
"Right. Don't forget to review chapter six before Tuesday," I said, staying near the kitchen counter, keeping the distance between us.