Even after living with Ryan for a short time, I know it’s rare to get him to show his emotions. It takes more than some adrenaline and s**t talking to throw him off-kilter.
Ryan fakes right, throwing Connor off-balance, before he pulls back and hits a three over him. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t wear a deserved smug smile, he simply turns around and jogs back on defense, completely in control of this game.
I have to cross one leg over the other, because it’s really f*****g attractive.
The first half goes by in a blur, and I get my second drink of the night sometime in the third quarter. I could get used to this, watching my hot-as-sin roommate while sipping on a cocktail, wearing my red strappy heels, and sitting courtside.
Probably shouldn’t though. This fake relationship has an
