“Two goals, two orgasms,” he says, sounding extremely satisfied with himself.
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re welcome.” He pulls me against his side and I drape myself across him, too tired and satisfied to move.
“Give me ten minutes,” he says. “Then I’ll get a towel.”
“Ten minutes?”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“Good. Serves you right.”
He laughs and presses a kiss to my hair. The sound vibrates through his chest into mine. “Best game day ever.”
We lie there in comfortable silence, his hand running up anddown my back in long, soothing strokes. My hand rests on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow from racing to steady.
“JuJu?” he says eventually.
“Mm?”
“I’m really glad you came tonight. And I’m really glad you’re here. With me. Like this.”
There’s something in his voice, something bigger than just satisfaction, something that sounds suspiciously like feelings we haven’t named yet, but I’m too tired and too sated to examine it too closely.
“Me too,” I mumble, already drifting. And as I fall asleep in his arms, I think maybe this is what home is supposed to feel like.
28
RODRIGUEZ
Monday, March 17th
Practice isoptional today but here I am anyway, because sitting at home means thinking and thinking means spiraling into places I don’t want to go.
Juliette’s working on an injury assessment case study that Marnie thinks will be beneficial for grad school. She left at six this morning, kissed me goodbye with sleep still in her eyes, told me she’d see me tonight.
I’m trying not to think about how natural it feels having her here. How right it is waking up next to her, watching her get ready, kissing her before she walks out the door.
I’m also trying not to think about Sienna’s Instagram DM from yesterday. The one I deleted so fast I almost dropped my phone doing it.
And now I’m at the facility at eight in the morning because guilt turns out to be a hell of a motivator.
The gym is nearly empty. Just me, a couple trainers who nod as they pass, and the distant mechanical whir of the zamboni on the icebelow. The barbell feels heavier than usual as I load it up for squats. I’m on my third set when Dex walks in looking like death.
“You’re here early,” he says.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Join the club. Goldie couldn’t either. Being pregnant means you have to pee nonstop, apparently.” He leans against the wall next to me, watching me finish my set. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you’re doing optional practice on a recovery day and you look like you want to murder that barbell.”
I rack the weight and grab my water bottle. “Just restless.”
“Uh huh.” Dex doesn’t buy it. I can see it in his face. But he doesn’t push. “Goldie says Juliette’s coming to book club tomorrow.”
