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“My family thinks soccer is a waste of time. Hasn’t stopped me from making a career out of it.”
I can feel Sophia’s eyes on me. Mine stay focused on the road—where hers should be. It’s the first time I’ve mentioned my family to her, something she obviously noticed.
Finally, she looks away. “Did you see the links I sent earlier?”
“See? Yeah. Look at them? No. I’d rather see stuff in person.”
She scoffs. “You’re welcome for sending them.”
“Thank you for shopping with me. This’ll be quick, I promise. I only need a few things.”
“For your empty apartment?”
“I’m decisive. I know what I like. When I see something I want, I go for it.”
Fuck, that came out more sexual than I’d meant it to.
Things aren’t weird between us, like I promised her. We both got up early the morning after she spent the night. I walked her home, then hopped on the nearest transit line to get to the practice facility. We texted a few times throughout the week, she offered to do this with me, and here we are. The sexual tension isn’t suffocating, but there’s a noticeable charge in the air. To me, at least. Based on how wet she was when I touched her and how quickly she came, I think it’s there for her too.
Sophia pulls into a massive parking lot that’s about half full, and we climb out of her car to head toward the automatic doors that lead inside what is essentially a huge warehouse. There are fake rooms set up toward the front of the store, three walls containing pretend bathrooms and kitchens and bedrooms. Past the browsing area are towering rows of shelves that must stock the furniture on display and a line of cash registers to check out. I grab one of the clipboards and pencils provided to keep track of whatever I decide to get.
I’ve never shopped for furniture before. I went from living at my mom’s to college to playing in Seattle. The house I rented with a few teammates came partially furnished, and the other guys all had stuff to fill in the gaps. Living alone in an empty place is new to me.
Sophia pauses in front of one of the bedroom setups. “Do you like this bed?”
I assess the white wooden frame. “No.”
She looks affronted. “Why not?”
“I just don’t. It’s white.”
“What’s wrong with white?”
“Everything’s white. I don’t need more of it.”
“It goes with everything,” Sophia argues. But she’s already moving on to the next setup.
This bed frame is black metal.
“I like this one.”
Sophia gives it a cursory glance. “Let’s keep looking,” she suggests.
I smile. “Oh, right. I forgot that we’re shopping for your apartment.”
“You asked for my help.”
Sophia is used to getting her way, I’m sure. To guys who set aside their own opinions to get in her good graces. Whoever brought her to the friendly match where we met, I’m sure it was an attempt to impress Sophia, not annoy her. I’m not that guy, the one who bullshits to get a woman in bed, and I wouldn’t be even if I thought I had a chance at hooking up with her.
“No. You generously offered your help, remember?”
She scoffs. “Fine. I’ll just stand here and stay quiet.”
I grin. “Yeah, right.”
Sophia just rolls her eyes. She stays stubbornly silent for the next couple of showrooms, but eventually can’t resist chiming in on a few furniture pieces. We bicker like an old married couple as we peruse the rest of the store. I pick out what I want, but it’s entertaining to hear her running commentary on which pieces “fit with my place” and which ones “suffocate the space.” Whatever the hell that means.
We’re looking at a bathroom—the one room I don’t need anything for since I stole towels from the practice facility—when there’s some German spoken behind me. I still can’t understand a word of it, but at least I can recognize it is German by now. I turn to see a woman with light-brown hair. She’s wearing a yellow shirt and a name tag that reads Lina, so she must work here. We’ve already been in the store for a while, so I’m surprised to see her. Whenever I went shopping back home, employees started asking what they could help with from the second I stepped in the door.
