Page 84 of Game Plan

He pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, and I relaxed against him.

With his strong arms wrapped around me, we chased sleep for the little time we had left before real life pierced our bubble once again and reality became unavoidable.

22

Come on, superstar, let’s get you wet

On Monday morning, I woke up before my alarm. My entire weekend hadn’t been restful, and it wasn’t because of that virus or the meet but because I was worried sick about Mason. Not that I would tell him, though. I had placed twice at the previous day’s meet, and our team was leading with three points, which offered me very little comfort in the storm affecting him. I still had a hard time coming to terms with the fact he had chosen to dope himself instead of asking for medical help. I understood why he had done it, but that didn’t make it okay.

I dressed in sweatpants and the hoodie Mason had given me last year, grabbed my duffel bag, and tiptoed out of the room. It was one of the few mornings Cassidy wasn’t up working at the crack of dawn, and she’d earned her sleep since her first class wasn’t until ten.

I joined Mason by the pool’s locker room at five fifteen sharp. He had offered to pick me up, but I preferred to walk and clear my head instead, not feeling too chatty at this early hour.

I spotted him the moment I entered the athletic building. He was sitting on the tiled floor with his eyes closed, legs outstretched, and head pressed against the wall behind him.

“Hey you. How long have you been here?” I sat next to him with my legs crossed and placed my bag beside me.

I was well aware the Phoenix had lost their game on Saturday and that Mason blamed himself for the interception that had cost them the victory. Two days later, he still looked defeated by it. When he had come home after the loss, I was still there, about to leave. Without a word, he took my hand, and I followed him to his bedroom. We spent the rest of the afternoon napping in each other’s arms, saying little more than a few words. I left just before dinner because the guys were having some of their teammates over, and I didn’t have a reason to be there anymore.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah. I’m ready to get in the pool now. If you are.”

“I am.” I moved to my feet and held out my hand for him to grab. “Come on, superstar, let’s get you wet.”

His mouth popped open, and I covered mine with my hand.

“Huh…I didn’t mean it like that.”

He stood next to me and winked, but it missed his usual cockiness. “I know. Doesn’t mean I would refuse, though. Just so we’re clear.”

I bumped his side with mine. “I thought we agreed it was all forgotten?”

A lazy curl traced his lips. “I thought I’d made it clear it would never happen.”

I shook my head, happy we could laugh about it. It wasn’t my finest moment, blurring so many lines in our relationship, but in the heat of the moment, it felt like it was the only way to relieve him and make him feel better about himself.

“It’s not me. I’m not that girl. The one who gives blow jobs to guys she’s not dating to make them feel better. I’m sorry if I confused you. It was not my intention. I confused myself too. Can you forgive me?”

“Mel. Stop. You’re rambling. There’s nothing to forgive, okay? It’s all good. We’re great. Forget about it.”

“You sure?”

“Totally. Just for the record, though, it will forever be the most amazing blow job of my life.”

I slapped his chest. “Stop. You are making me blush, and I won’t ever be able to look you in the eye for the rest of my life.”

“You can’t blame me for loving you when you’re all red and bothered.”

I slapped his chest again, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m shutting up now.”

Once I changed into a black one-piece swimsuit, I tied my hair at the top of my head in a messy updo and gathered my towel before joining Mason by the side of the pool. The blue expanse of water shone under the recessed lights, its surface a perfect glass we would soon disturb.

I loved the pool. Just the sight of it always filled me with bubbling excitement. I would miss it once I graduated in a few years.

Mason was standing with his fists resting on his hips, his back firm and his expression unreadable. He looked so out of his element, bare-chested, wearing only red swim trunks and white flip-flops.

I neared him, and he enveloped his right shoulder with his left hand. I couldn’t tell if it was a reflex or because it hurt.