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His eyes find mine and he tilts his head, searching for something in my face. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you insecure before.”
My cheeks flush. “I am a human.”
“Debatable. Who told you it was annoying?”
Okay, well, he wasn’t supposed to ask that. Or perceive that even. “Just a person.”
“Clearly a shitty person to try to tear down something unique about you.” He looks upset. “No. It’s not annoying. And…I struggle with organization so I thought the extra help was nice.”
I notice things I shouldn’t in this moment: His black joggers wrapping his muscled thighs like a second skin. How I can smell the mix of his deodorant and a hint of sweat from a long day of travel. The subtle brackets on either side of his mouth—evidence that hehasbeen smiling since we broke up. And the sharp call of my body to crawl across the bed and press my nose to his neck and drag in his scent. Clearly, I need sleep.
“So what did you forage for us?”Subject change, initiated.“Iwould like to lie and tell you I’m perfectly capable of skipping one dinner, but the truth is, I was two minutes away from eating this pillow.”
He grins. “I figured.”
Derek hands me the bowl and I’m momentarily incapable of words. I blink down at the late-night snack like it’s an offering of jewels. I suddenly feel uncomfortably misty. “You…got me ice cream and cereal?”Two scoops of vanilla ice cream and something similar to Cinnamon Toast Crunch to top it off.
“Do you still like it?”
I nod. “It’s my favorite. I guess I just…didn’t expect you to remember.”
Soft amusement unfurls on his mouth, making my stomach somersault. “Nora, you ate this at least four times a week in college. There’s no way I could forget that.”
“It’s always represented the majority of my food pyramid,” I say before taking a huge bite just so I don’t blubber about how much this means to me. The truth is, I forgot what it’s like to have someone around who knows me. Or I guess…who knows me and doesn’t think my oddities are over-the-top. Sometimes I get so exhausted from putting in all the effort to know someone only for them to decide I’m not worth it and ditch me. Other than my mom, work is my BFF for a reason.
I clear the knots from my throat. “Did you get ice cream too?”
He answers by lifting a celery stick dipped in peanut butter to his mouth, making a huge crunch between his pretty white teeth. “This close to the season I really try to watch what I eat. Especially when it seems I’m going to need all the help I can get coming back from this damn injury.”
“Did you not eat like this before the injury?”
He shrugs lightly. “I did. Not as rigorously, though. I’d still go out and party and drink. But I’ve cut that out completely now.”
I pull the spoon from my mouth. “That’s sadder than a wet Pomeranian puppy.”
“It’s not so bad.” His grin is a fragile thing. “Well…I do miss the ice cream, but oddly don’t miss the partying.” He pauses, forehead creasing. “That’s been the strangest part. I thought I’d really miss that side of things when I stepped out of the limelight and focused all of my attention on rehabbing my ankle. But it turns out it was a pretty natural transition. Nice even.”
“Oh no. Did Peter Pan leave Neverland for good?”
“I’ve started drinking chamomile tea at night, Nora.And I like it.” He says this like a confession of murder. “It’s been a weird couple of months for me.”
I take another bite of my comfort food. “I can imagine.”
“Actually…I’ve been wondering something.” He studies me. “You said you’ve been at the agency two years…what did you do before that?”
A mental image of the rules we made together unrolls in my head, and then tears down the middle. Not only are we currently sharing the same bed (bye-bye, rule number ten) but he’s also prying into my past (see ya never, rule number two).
“As it turns out, the rumors are true. The sports industry really is full of chauvinistic, narrow-minded dudes who don’t think a woman could ever understand sports as well as someone with danglies between their legs. Apparently, that’s where all the world’s knowledge is kept.”
“Why do you think we guard them so preciously?”
I pretend to kick him, and he laughs—like really laughs. It swirls around in my chest and sweeps out all the cobwebs. “Really they’rewhere we store all our unjustified ego. Hurts like hell getting hit down there.”
“Duly noted.”
“So what happened?” he asks. “You graduated and said you went on to grad school…and then what?”
“And then I stormed into the world with eternal optimism and a new power outfit, and spent the next year interning for an agency that made it clear I was never going to do anything for them beyond fetch coffee and push papers.” It’s honestly sad that Sports Representation Inc. looks like a walk in the park compared to that other agency.
