Knock You Off Your Feet

“Yes, Shaun and I are currently in a relationship,” I said, holding my phone at my ear with my shoulder as I buttered the slice of toast in front of me. “Yes, it did start at the Olympic games last year.”

Shaun walked into my kitchen. He was wearing a loose black t-shirt and red plaid boxers, smiling with the midsummer sun streaming in through the big glass doors that led out onto my deck. He pointed to my phone, I mouthed, “tabloid,” and he nodded, heading to the fridge and scratching his head with a yawn.

“No, I’ve never had a relationship with Alexandre Bilodeau.”

He rolled his eyes as he took a sip of the orange juice from the carton.

“No, no problem. Thank you.” I hung up and sighed. “God, do they have no respect? It’s only 7:30! They shouldn’t be calling this early!”

“Calm down, Case,” he said, patting my hand as I sat down at the island. He had a bowl of Frosted Flakes in front of him. “We knew this was gonna happen, now that we’re superstars.”

“I don’t wanna turn into the next Michael Phelps, I’m sorry. The only magazine that should be calling me is Sports Illustrated.”

“For the swimsuit issue?”

I dipped my fingers in his juice and flicked it at him, drying them on my pajama shorts. “So, what’re your plans for today? I’m assuming some skateboarding…”

“Yeah, and I’m taking you with me.”

I almost spit out my toast, choking on it instead.

“Chew, swallow, breathe,” he directed.

“What? You know I can’t skateboard!” The look on my face was one of pure shock. “I’d kill myself!”

“Not when you’ve got me teaching you, you wouldn’t. Just trust me on this, okay? I’m not gonna let you get hurt.”

“Fine, but if I do, you’ve got hell to pay.” I glared at him from over my plate and he just chuckled.

“Sure I do, sure I do.”