Garrett Graham személy
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Despite what a lot of folks believe, I’m not a dumb jock. But hey, I don’t mind letting people think I am. Women, in particular. I guess they’re turned on by the idea of screwing the big brawny caveman who’s only good for one thing, but since I’m not looking for anything serious, casual hookups with chicks that only want my dick suit me just fine. Gives me more time to focus on hockey.
“Just out of curiosity,” she says, “after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or two?”
“Two,” I reply cheerfully.
“Do you high five yourself?”
“Of course not.” I smirk. “I kiss each of my biceps and then point to the ceiling and thank the big man upstairs for creating such a perfect male specimen.”
“I’ll have a turkey club.” He sets the menu down, then reaches for it again. “And a bacon double cheeseburger. Just the burger, no fries. Actually, I changed my mind—yes to the fries. Oh, and a side order of onion rings.”
My jaw almost hits the floor. “You’re seriously going to eat all that?”
He grins. “Of course. I’m a growing boy.”
Vigyázat! Felnőtt tartalom.
“What’s the question?”
“All right, so you’re a Nazi—”
“Fuck that,” he interjects.
“Let me finish, will ya? You’re a Nazi, and Hitler has just ordered you to commit an act that goes against everything you believe in. Do you say, cool beans, boss, I’ll kill all these people for you, or do you say fuck off, and risk getting killed yourself?”
“I tell him to fuck off.” Tuck pauses. “Actually, no. I put a bullet in his head. Problem solved.”
”Hey, I handle the drinking part just fine. It’s the morning after that does me in.” I smirk at my teammates. “Besides, I’m your captain. Somebody has to stay sober to keep your crazy asses in line.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Logan pauses, then shakes his head. “Actually, no, you’re the mom,” he tells Tucker, grinning at Tuck’s apron before turning back at me. “Guess that makes you the dad. You two are positively domestic.”
We both flip him the finger.
“Aw, are Mommy and Daddy mad at me?” He gives a mock gasp. “Are you guys gonna get a divorce?”
“Did you re-download One Direction?”
Her mouth twitches. “No…”
“Uh-huh. So why is “Story of my Life” playing?” I demand.
She pauses, then lets out a big sigh. “Because I like One Direction. There. I said it.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” I warn her. “Because I wouldn’t stand for it otherwise.”
Hannah grins. “You’re lucky I love you. Because you’re a total asshole and there aren’t a lot of girls who’d put up with it.”
She’s probably right about the asshole thing.
She’s definitely right about the lucky part.
“He shakes his head in amazement. “Your voice is…fuck, Wellsy, it’s beautiful.”
My cheeks heat up. “You think so?”
His impassioned expression tells me he’s dead serious. “Play something else,” he orders.
“Um. What do you want to hear?”
“Anything. I don’t care.” I’m startled by the intensity in his voice, the emotion now glittering in his gray eyes. “I just need to hear you sing again.”