A voice calls from the bench, pulling me from my spiral. I glance over and see the head of physical therapy for theMayhem. I can never remember his name no matter how hard I try, but the team respects him as an ex-player.
“Let me take a look at that hammy before the whistle blows,” he says, waving his arms to bring me over.
I skate to the edge, hoisting myself onto the PT cart face down. His hands dig into the soreness that’s still lingering from last week’s practice.
“Still a little tight. Let me try a few things and see if we can loosen you up before the whistle.”
He moves me into another stretch, working carefully through the tension, and I’m finally starting to relax into the pressure when a soft, cautious voice sounds beside me.
“Hey, Seth. How are you feeling?” Bri asks.
We haven’t spoken since the laundry room, and I’d been planning to keep it that way. I lift my head slightly off the table to acknowledge her, so I don’t come across like a complete asshole to the staff, but the second I look at her, every coherent thought in my head disappears.
Fuck. She looks beautiful tonight.
Green eyes sparkling behind those black-rimmed glasses she wore the night of the team party when I didn’t know who she was. I don’t know what it is about them, but I’m realizing glasses suit her. Her fitted button-up with the team’s emblem is stretched tightly across her chest, and those light gray yoga pants that are sealed over her thick thighs and muscular body. Damn, I’m already getting hard. They cling to her curves in all the right places. Curves that I’ve had the pleasure of palming, squeezing, kissing, and biting.
I shouldn’t be looking at her like this. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop myself. My eyes run up and down her body mercilessly and there’s no way she doesn’t notice what I’m doing. Because once you’ve seen Bri naked, you don’t forget.
Her light brown hair is twisted back into one of those plastic clips, exposing the delicate curve of her neck that I’d like to collar with my fingers again just to feel her pulse kick the way I know it does.
“I’m good,” I manage to get out, keeping it simple, just as the trainer digs deeper into my hamstring. I exhale through the discomfort and wish it were her hands on me instead.
“Still a little sore right there?” he asks, pressing harder.
“Just tight.”
“Coach Steele said you’re starting, so sitting you out isn’t an option. I think you’ll be alright tonight. Just try not to fall on it.”
Yeah, like that’s possible to avoid.
I sit up, swinging my legs off the table, silently thankful I didn’t pop a damn boner this time. Much easier to control that when it’s a man handling my body and not Bri’s fingers. I shake the tension out of my leg.
“Good luck out there,” the trainer says.
I’m about to push off and head back to the net when Bri’s hand settles gently against my arm. And just like that, any chance I had of not getting worked up before this game disappears completely.
“Hey,” she says softly, her fingers lingering against me a second longer than they need to. “I wanted to tell you I talked to Sawyer right after she landed in Boston. She’s excited and doing really good. One of the moms has been sending me updates nonstop, and the team’s winning.”
Her eyes light up when she talks about Sawyer, and something tightens hard in my chest at how genuinely invested she is in Sawyer’s game. Why does she always go the extra mile? She didn’t have to check in to make sure Sawyer landed safely. She didn’t have to keep texting her. She definitely didn’t have to track down updates just so she could reassure me before the game. I texted Sawyer too, but she never answered. Bri could’ve left it there. Instead, she followed up for me anyway because she knew it’d reassure me.
And God, I like that.
I like that she thought about me enough to do it. I like that she’s still touching me. Still standing this close. I like it way more than I should.
I don’t move. Don’t pull away. I just let her stay there beside me even though I know I shouldn’t. She smells like flowers andclean soap, and it hits me all over again that I like every single thing I’ve learned about her so far. There’s not a cruel bone in Bri’s body. Hell, I’m not even mad anymore that she never told me who she was the night we met in the gym.
I try to force a scowl, mostly out of self-preservation, but it’s useless. Bri’s too warm. Too bright. Too easy to want.
“Thank you for the update,” I manage to get out in a rough voice. “You look tired tonight.”
Her smile fades just slightly, and I realize,yeah, I’m the douche canoe Levi said I was.
I notice her guard go up a little. “You’re welcome. I stayed up all night reading, so I didn’t get the best sleep.” She fidgets with her hair like I’ve made her self-conscious. I’m an asshole. The biggest asshole to ever exist.
“What were you reading?”
Her cheeks redden, and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and then lets go of my arm. Too soon if you ask me.
