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Why not call up Chloe too. Make it a real orgy.
As long as I can’t hear them, it’s not my business. And since I have yet to run into Slade on the elevator or on the seventh level where my apartment is located, his apartment must not be that close to mine.
At least I’ll be spared the sound of fake orgasms from the woman only looking to score bragging rights for sleeping with a player.
Then they’ll be off chasing some other jersey on the local NFL or MLB teams until we get a new recruit.
No one gets hurt in this scenario. There’s no victim to be had. The players get their egos boosted, and the women get what they want, too—a good story to tell their girlfriends over mimosas at Sunday brunch.
All I want to do is go home and wait for Win’s text.
Since I haven’t heard my phone ding in the last five minutes, I really hope I didn’t scare him away.
An hour after I get home and get ready for bed,… checking my phone for Win about a thousand times; I hear my phone ding while sitting on the coffee table.
I run from the kitchen to the living room and dive over the back to the couch to retrieve my phone.
WinTheDay067: I want to Pen. I really do. But I’m in the middle of a project right now. I need to see this through first.
I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed, especially now with the extra pent-up sexual frustration that his messages caused tonight.
If I don’t let out some steam… I might burst.
SkatrGirlPen: I understand. Will you let me know when you’re ready?
WinTheDay067: I won’t make you wait long. I promise.
With that, I head to bed. It’s late and we have some elbow rubbing to do with some big wigs coming in for tomorrow’s game. Plus this whole emotional roller coaster with both Win and Slade has tuckered me out.
Chapter Ten
Slade
It’s Thursday night and Penelope’s birthday. She took the day off today so she wouldn’t have gotten the chai and flowers I dropped off this morning on her desk.
Pink and white Peonies—her favorite. Something I learned as Win when I sent her flowers to one of her classes that she said she had later that day. She wasn't sure if she was going to go because she had just heard the rumors that morning about Slade's threat.
This morning, Sam eyed me carefully when I dropped them off, but there was not much he could say since several other presents from other Hawkeyes staff members were sitting on her desk. Nothing was as large as the boutique of mixed peonies and daylilies.
I considered taking the flowers to her apartment and knocking on her door, but after the night at the bar, I didn’t want to press my luck. She’s been avoiding me ever since.
Ducking into someone's office when she sees me walking down the hall.
Backing out of any room she walks into when she sees I’m there, too.
A couple of days ago, I beat her to Serendipity’s, and the second she walked in the door and saw that I was already in line, she did a one-eighty and left back out the door just to avoid me.
Tomorrow, we leave for our first round of playoff games in our conference. The team we’re up against gets the home-ice advantage for games one and two. Then we’ll be back to play here for games three and four.
I walk into Oakley’s just a little after nine pm when all the guys said to meet up.
“Matthews!” Lake yells from across the room, lifting his arm in the air so I can spot him. The bar is busy on a Thursday night.
I weave in and out between other people to get to the eight-top table where Briggs, Lake, Kaenan, Brent, and Reeve are sitting.
“Did Wrenley come out tonight?” I ask, knowing he isn’t much for social events.
“Yeah, there’s a pool tournament tonight. He wouldn’t miss it,” Reeve says, pointing to Seven on the far end of the bar with a pool stick in his hand.
