Whiplash:You’re busy.
Whiplash:Maybe some other time.
Whiplash:Sorry. You probably have
other plans, huh?
Whiplash:Ignore me.
God, he’s adorable. I’ve gotten used to his back and forth. Sometimes he’s shy. Sometimes he’s bold and sexy.
I chuckle and shoot a text back.
Me:I’d love to.
Me:Sorry, I was with a patient.
He quickly responds.
Whiplash:Yeah?
Me:Sure, why not? I’d love to meet your
family.
Whiplash:Cool.
I shut off my phone and get ready for my next appointment.
Honestly, I’m stoked to be meeting Jett’s family. What does that mean, anyway? Is this where we move from friends with benefits to something more solid? I’ve been wanting something serious lately, but my visions never involved a tall, broad, broody, adorable runner who was…ismy hero. I could get on board with that and see where it goes.
The thought of something growing between us puts a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I’m really looking forward to it.
I’m sorting through my clothes in the community laundry room. It’s pretty late, and usually people don’t wash clothes this time of night. Competing for laundry units sucks. It’d be nice to have my own units, but the building is older, so no such luck. It’s why it’s more affordable, I guess.
When I hear the door open, I roll my eyes and inwardly groan. Dammit. Well, good thing I was here first.
“Wes?” The familiar baritone voice behind me goes straight to my nuts. Fuck, what is it about Jett that gets my body going?
I look over my shoulder and grin at him. “Yo, here to do laundry, too?” He holds up his basket and gives me a deadpanned look. “Sorry, I thought you were stalking me. I mean, I’m honored and all…”
“Dork.”
Before I can do or say anything else, he sets his basket down and fingers my T-shirt with a raised brow. “‘Orgasm Donor’?”
“What can I say? I’m a giver.”
His chuckle is low and rumbly. Hot.
Jett lets me go to sort through his clothes. I throw my whites in with detergent and bleach, take out a clean load from the dryer, and start folding them.
“How’s your week been so far?” I ask him.
He pulls out dark colors from his pile, thinking about it. “It’s cool. Good, even. I wasn’t sure how I’d like coaching, but, yeah, it’s… good.”
“I bet that wasn’t what you dreamed of doing, huh?”
I look at him as he shrugs and shoves his darks into a free washing machine. “What were your plans after the Olympics? Did you have a big sponsor lined up?” It’s so hard to get him to open up. I barely know anything about Jett. I mean, I can tell you all his stats and which races he won throughout his career, yet I can’t tell you anything personal about him. I know he’s got family, but he barely talks about them. If I’m going to meet them, it’d be nice if he opened up more.
