Dom eyes me skeptically. “Whatever it is, I want some of it. Did you change up your routine? You get laid today?” If he doesn’t stop talking right this second, I’m going to be short a teammate due to justifiable homicide.
Delilah tenses next to me before she stands up to go wait for Poppy by the hostess stand so she can come back to the reserved section when she gets here.
Dom flinches when she walks away. “Sorry, Lilah. I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.” He says to her back as she walks away.
Wading up my napkin, I throw it, hitting him right in the nose. “You’re a fucking moron. You know that, right?”
He pushes his hand through his floppy hair, looking remorseful. “Yeah, in hindsight, that wasn’t my best moment.”
Poppy and Delilah return to the table, and Dom keeps his word, but it’s too late. My girl sits next me with her back ramrod straight—keeping a very platonic distance between us.
I’m dying to pull her aside and tell her it’s not that. Assure her that Dom’s just a dumbass and that there’s no one else—there hasn’t been for a while. I want to spill my heart until she understandsshe’sthe reason I played so well tonight.
Instead, I sling my arm around the back of Delilah’s chair and run my pinkie finger along her shoulder. My touch seems to ease her into relaxing, her shoulders drop, and she melts into me. Everyone’s enjoying themselves, talking about their plans for the next day off and the TV shows they are currently binging—until Delilah freezes next to me. I follow her hardened gaze across the bar and see Hendrix leaning against the bar, watching Poppy and Dom with barely contained rage on his face. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since their falling out.
Fuck that noise.
Hen might be my closest friend on the team but, there’s no way I will let these two and their problems get between Delilah and me again tonight. It’s our time now. I’ll haul my girl out of here over my shoulder while the world burns down around us with their drama if that’s what I need to do.
Hendrix stalks over to the table. Both Xavier and Dom push away from the table and make themselves scarce out of self-preservation. Delilah is a statue next to me, muscles taut and mouth twisted like she could tear into Hendrix at any second. I drop my hand to her knee under the table. It’s enough to distract her from Hendrix for a moment. My hand coasts up her thigh and back down to her knee several times. Coaxing her into dropping her shoulders before her hand finds mine and she threads our fingers together.
Poppy asks Delilah about her search for another employee atBuns & Roses. She’s worked so hard to get here and loosening the reins didn’t come easy for her. But I know she’s ready to start enjoying her life outside of work.
The conversation flows, almost like it did before Poppy and Hendrix imploded. But it doesn’t last long. Hendrix says something stupid, and before we know it, they’ve both taken off. Leaving Delilah seething in the seat next to me.
I stand and hold out my hand for her. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you home.”
Her blue eyes find mine filled with heat and the unspoken question between us,Is this it?Her fingers cover my palm and I pull her from her seat to lead her through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk. I keep her close to me as we weave through the downtown crowd and I’m sure she can feel my heart beating through my rib cage. She’s leaving with me and not hiding from the conversation we need to have.
We walk the three blocks to her place in silence. By the time we get to her door, the tension between us is buzzing like electricity in the air before a storm. Facing me she lets her head fall against the door frame, her lip trapped between her teeth. She’s fidgeting with her keys, twirling the key ring in a slow circle. Her eyes slowly lift from where she is watching them spin to me.
Even with the uncertainty swimming in her blue orbs, she looks so fucking pretty, and I’m dying to kiss her. Delilah’s not shy, but she seems a little unsteady right now. She’s wearing a pair of frayed black jean shorts that hug her hips and make her legs look longer than they are. My Bandits jersey is unbuttoned over a tiny white tank top, with a healthy amount of cleavage on display. She tilts her head up and wets her lips. It almost feels like a dare.
When I prop my forearm against the wall next to her head, she clears her throat. “Do you want to come in? Talk?” It comes out all rushed and squeaky, and I have to quell a laugh.
“Are you nervous?” Her eyes widen. If she thought she hid that from me, she’s mistaken.
She nods her head. “No–yes. For fuck’s sake. Just come inside.”
This time I don’t bother stopping the laugh. “Would you feel better if I told you I was nervous too?”
Her blonde hair shifts around her shoulders as she shakes her head. Wordlessly, she turns and opens the door to her apartment. “Not really. I was hoping one of us knew what the hell we were doing.”
I have walked through this door with her more times than I can count, under all kinds of circumstances, at all hours—day and night. But this time feels markedly different—like this space isn’t large enough to contain the air that’s buzzing around us. It’s only magnified during the time since we left the bar, reaching the point where it feels explosive. One spark and everything will ignite.
Our admission that both of us are anxious did nothing to calm the situation. Delilah drops her keys and purse on the counter as I follow her into the kitchen from the entryway.
“Do you want anything to drink?” She pulls a glass down from the cupboard.
“Water is fine.” Delilah pulls down a second glass and moves to the sink to fill them both. I stand back, watching her as she moves, tracing the lines of her body with my eyes.
I’ve wanted her for so damn long, and my stomach flips at the thought that I might be on the precipice of getting just that. That hope is immediately followed by the dread that always comes after. What if, by taking this step forward and changing our relationship, we fuck it all up? What if I lose her?
I rub the ache that thought causes, trying to loosen the knot at the center of my chest with my knuckles as I follow her to the living room. When she drops onto the couch, I sink down next to her, shifting my body so I’m turned toward her.
Delilah looks at me tentatively, that bottom lip rolling between her teeth again. I want to kiss it and pull it between my teeth every damn time she does it. The realization strikes me that, if I get through this conversation, maybe I can do just that.
One of us has to start or we’ll just sit in this awkward limbo forever. I clear my throat before saying, “You feel it too, don’t you? The way things have changed between us? Slowly, our friendship has morphed into something more. Neither of us has openly acknowledged it or acted on it yet, but we both feel it a little more strongly each day. Like we are inevitable at this point.”
