“Um, your heart eyes,” Willa declares with a laugh.
She’s got me there. I have been flitting around the coffee shop like a lovesick teenager after every encounter with him since that first kiss.
My phone chimes from where it’s plugged in behind the counter. I grab it off the wood shelf it’s on and unlock the home screen.
Cruz:
Can’t stop thinking about seeing you tonight.
Included with the sweet message is an image that is anything but sweet. It’s a selfie of Cruz taken in front of the mirror in the weight room at the Bandits stadium. He’s got a massive dumbbell resting on his knee and his phone in the other hand as he sits shirtless on the bench. It’s not like I haven’t seen him without a shirt before, but the smoldering look in his eyes should come with a warning label.
That coupled with the light sheen of sweat covering his caramel skin and how he’s sitting with his back curved, making every single valley and ridge of his toned stomach stand out. Well, it’s enough to make a girl drool, and both Willa and Mikey notice rushing over to see what’s got me staring at my phone with an awestruck look.
“Hot damn.”
“Jesus, girl. You are in trouble.”
They both hum in appreciation.
“Hey, that is not for your eyes,” I scold, locking my screen quickly.
“What’s tonight?” Mikey asks with no shame at all that he’s continuing to poke around.
“Um. He asked me to come over after the game.”
“Mhmmm. So much trouble.” He cackles, and it’s downright villainous. He’s enjoying that I’m thrown completely off axis. “Are you two together now?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” A nervous laugh escapes me. I know he called himself my boyfriend, but that label doesn’t feel quite right. He means more to me than any boyfriend ever has. It almost feels like a step backward for us. “We are, but it’s new.”
“Is it time for me to clock out? I need to go find Mitch?” Mikey whines dramatically as he hangs up his apron.
“Yes, please. Go home to your husband. I can’t deal with any more of your nonsense right now.” I bump his hip with mine playfully. We’re friends, and he could say pretty much anything without offending me. But their combined attention and questions about my relationship with Cruz has me feeling a little exposed and nervous about tonight.
After Mikey clocks out, Willa and I spend a little time brainstorming a few fresh additions to the bakery case. She eventually kicks me out, claiming there’s no way she’ll be the reason I’m not primped and prepped “within an inch of my life” for my night with Cruz, so I head back to my apartment to do just that.
As I’m unlocking my door, my cell phone rings and I slide it out of my back pocket. Cruz’s name lights up the screen along with a picture of the two of us after a hike together last summer. It’s one of my favorites. Cruz’s wide smile is prominent, and it makes me happy every time I see it.
“Hey, Cruz,” I say as I pull the door shut behind me. I lock it because I know he would scold me if I didn’t.
“Hermosa, you left me on read all afternoon. I hope you weren’t busy breaking the rules. That would be very disappointing.” He tries to play it off like this is all fun and games, but I can hear the edge of worry in his voice that I didn’t text him back for another reason. It’s barely detectable, but it’s there.
“I’ve been a good girl, but I just got home, so anything is possible.” I’ll let him keep this playful for now, even if I know we’ll have to have a deeper talk about how he’s doing soon. “You weren’t playing fair with that photo earlier.”
“I only recall setting one rule.” His voice is rich and deep. I can imagine how it would rumble against my skin if he was here holding me.
“And does that rule go both ways?” I walk through the apartment toward my master bathroom. Setting the phone on the vanity counter, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it in the hamper. My fingers work the button on my shorts free just as Cruz answers.
“Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to do it if I wasn’t going to participate.”
A plan forms in my head. I swipe out of the call and open my camera, propping the phone against the mirror. “And where are you now?” I ask to be sure he’s not in the team lounge surrounded by teammates. This is a private show.
“At home. I have to meet Hendrix to walk over in a while.”
“Good to know.” My voice is infused with an innocence that has no business being there, given what I’m planning. With the button popped open on my shorts, I remove my bra and click the timer button. One arm crosses over my chest and the other dangles the lacy teal bra over the hamper. I let the timer expire, capturing the photo. Before I can think too hard about it, I navigate to our text thread and send it.
I know the moment it comes through.
“Fuck, Delilah.” Cruz’s voice is rough and when he says my name like that, I fear my plans may have backfired. That thrumming pulse that’s been plaguing me all day intensifies, but I’m too invested to stop this now. This time I hit the button and turn around, looking over my shoulder as I push my shorts down my legs. Another text sent and a sharp inhale on the other side of the phone.
