Flipping the Script Read Online Free Page B
Author: Paula Chase
grinning.
âMan, please. You down by fourteen. You ainât catching this kid with that sorry QB,â Michael said.
âWatch me. Iâm ready go on a roll,â JZ said.
He thought about Jacinta sneaking and lying to text with him. He was winning tonight, no doubt, even if it was only a small victory.
âIâm on a roll,â he said again, his smile a mile long.
The Next Level
âTake me to New York, Iâd love to see L.A.â
âEstelle, âAmerican Boyâ
Â
Â
T here were a few things Michael assumed heâd never see in his lifetime.
A fly pair of sweatpants. Wearing them signaled giving up, in his opinion. The things simply werenât made to be worn outside a gym.
Snow in July.
JZ being sprung.
All bets were safe on the first two remaining as elusive as an endangered animal in the rain forest. But he couldnât have been more wrong about that last one, because JZ was definitely sprung, gone, totally open over Jacinta.
Heâd known JZ was texting Jacinta once everyone left last night.
First of all, JZ was mad that Jacinta dipped in the first place. Heâd gotten that squinty eyed hurt look on his face, then heâd dogged Jacinta out by not walking her to the doorâclassic Jay.
Second, whenever it was Cinny texting or calling, the ring tone was always a pimplicious song like, âPlayaâs Rockâ or âSexual Eruption.â Michael guessed that long ago, but had it confirmed when heâd mistakenly seen it was Cinny calling one day when JZ left his phone on the sofa.
Sprung.
JZ.
Heâd wanted to give JZ grief about it, the other night, but JZ was working so hard to cover it up, Michael wasnât so sure heâd see the humor in it. He settled for whupping up good on JZ in three Madden rematches.
The losses alone were sign enough JZ was preoccupied about something.
Michael shook his head and laughed softly into the silence of the Bay Dra-da theatre troupeâs sewing room, a gracious name for the dimly lit oversized supply closet the crew used for designing and fitting. Two sewing machines stood side by side, just far enough so people sewing wouldnât crack elbows, flush against a drafting table strewn with Michaelâs designs. Luckily, he was there alone. No more than three people could fit into the room at any given time and even then you risked someone poking your eye out if they moved too fast.
Forgetting about JZâs text creeping, he relished the quiet of the empty schoolâloving the access being in the theatre troupe gave him.
The holiday break was just what Michael needed. It gave him time to work on his latest design without the interruption of classes or someone bumping him as he sewed. Time he should have taken advantage of instead of hanging with the clique all weekend, but it had been a while since heâd let them dominate his weekend. It felt kind of nice.
Yawning, he stepped away from the headless mannequin, finally giving it his full attention. He took another step and another until he was almost out the door of the tiny room.
Distance wasnât enough.
He squinted at the formal baby-doll minidress, working unsuccessfully to convince his tired brain that the dress was as fabulous as the original sketch. Just a few weeks ago, it had been only a mass of shimmering pink and green tulle and an ambitious creation in Michaelâs mind. Now, a sequined sweetheart bodice glittered above the wisps of tulle, hugging what would be cleavage if the mannequin had any.
He hated it. The green was too ... green, like a bag of frozen peas.
He loved it. The soft pink streaks within the green tulle and iridescent pink sequins peeked out just enough. Anyone thinking the dress was only green would be pleasantly caught off guard by the pastel highlights
A slightly electric buzzing in his veins coursed up and down his arms as he alternated between caressing the dress with his eyes and pelting it
âMan, please. You down by fourteen. You ainât catching this kid with that sorry QB,â Michael said.
âWatch me. Iâm ready go on a roll,â JZ said.
He thought about Jacinta sneaking and lying to text with him. He was winning tonight, no doubt, even if it was only a small victory.
âIâm on a roll,â he said again, his smile a mile long.
The Next Level
âTake me to New York, Iâd love to see L.A.â
âEstelle, âAmerican Boyâ
Â
Â
T here were a few things Michael assumed heâd never see in his lifetime.
A fly pair of sweatpants. Wearing them signaled giving up, in his opinion. The things simply werenât made to be worn outside a gym.
Snow in July.
JZ being sprung.
All bets were safe on the first two remaining as elusive as an endangered animal in the rain forest. But he couldnât have been more wrong about that last one, because JZ was definitely sprung, gone, totally open over Jacinta.
Heâd known JZ was texting Jacinta once everyone left last night.
First of all, JZ was mad that Jacinta dipped in the first place. Heâd gotten that squinty eyed hurt look on his face, then heâd dogged Jacinta out by not walking her to the doorâclassic Jay.
Second, whenever it was Cinny texting or calling, the ring tone was always a pimplicious song like, âPlayaâs Rockâ or âSexual Eruption.â Michael guessed that long ago, but had it confirmed when heâd mistakenly seen it was Cinny calling one day when JZ left his phone on the sofa.
Sprung.
JZ.
Heâd wanted to give JZ grief about it, the other night, but JZ was working so hard to cover it up, Michael wasnât so sure heâd see the humor in it. He settled for whupping up good on JZ in three Madden rematches.
The losses alone were sign enough JZ was preoccupied about something.
Michael shook his head and laughed softly into the silence of the Bay Dra-da theatre troupeâs sewing room, a gracious name for the dimly lit oversized supply closet the crew used for designing and fitting. Two sewing machines stood side by side, just far enough so people sewing wouldnât crack elbows, flush against a drafting table strewn with Michaelâs designs. Luckily, he was there alone. No more than three people could fit into the room at any given time and even then you risked someone poking your eye out if they moved too fast.
Forgetting about JZâs text creeping, he relished the quiet of the empty schoolâloving the access being in the theatre troupe gave him.
The holiday break was just what Michael needed. It gave him time to work on his latest design without the interruption of classes or someone bumping him as he sewed. Time he should have taken advantage of instead of hanging with the clique all weekend, but it had been a while since heâd let them dominate his weekend. It felt kind of nice.
Yawning, he stepped away from the headless mannequin, finally giving it his full attention. He took another step and another until he was almost out the door of the tiny room.
Distance wasnât enough.
He squinted at the formal baby-doll minidress, working unsuccessfully to convince his tired brain that the dress was as fabulous as the original sketch. Just a few weeks ago, it had been only a mass of shimmering pink and green tulle and an ambitious creation in Michaelâs mind. Now, a sequined sweetheart bodice glittered above the wisps of tulle, hugging what would be cleavage if the mannequin had any.
He hated it. The green was too ... green, like a bag of frozen peas.
He loved it. The soft pink streaks within the green tulle and iridescent pink sequins peeked out just enough. Anyone thinking the dress was only green would be pleasantly caught off guard by the pastel highlights
A slightly electric buzzing in his veins coursed up and down his arms as he alternated between caressing the dress with his eyes and pelting it