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“Matty,” Cammy gently interrupts, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and then tucking the end into the pocket of her jeans, “let him catch his breath.”
Matty pinches his lips together and peers up at me like he couldn’t wait to see me again.
I can’t bring myself to meet Cammy’s eyes because I’m a total pussy and not ready for what I might see in them. So instead, I lean down, take a big, exaggerated breath and let it out in a noisy whistle that has him giggling and shaking his head at me like a mini version of his mom.
“Whew, think I finally caught it.”
Matty smiles and I rub his mop of hair before bracing to look around. The space looks the same. It feels the same. No half-dead ficus plants. No unpacked cardboard boxes stacked in the corner. Not even a fresh pile of masculine junk accumulated on the coffee table.
No signs of a new, probably permanent occupant.
Okay, so maybe I can breathe.
“Mom didn’t think you were coming over today.”
“No?” I look from Matty’s earnest face to Cammy’s suddenly anxious one, a feeling of sinking dread moving through me. I should have called. Checked that it was okay.
“I told her you’d be here. But she told me you might be too busy and if you couldn’t come, I shouldn’t take it personally.”
She’s shaking her head, wringing her hands together as she peers across the open space between us. “Since I hadn’t talked to you, I wasn’t sure if you were still...”
She takes a breath and gives me a helpless look.
I let out a laugh I’m not totally feeling and make a mental note that I better start checking in before I show up here. “I said I’d come by, so—”
“I’m glad you did,” she rushes, her hand moving through the air in an awkward wave that makes me want to pull her into my arms and hold her close. Instead, I keep my feet planted where they are as she adds, “We are.”
Matty drags me back into the kitchen so I can check out the fridge. They made me banana muffins and after being challenged to see if I could eat the whole cupcake in one bite—umm, yes—Matty darts off to get something for me from his room.
Wiping my mouth on one of the thin napkins from the metal dispenser on the kitchen table, I look up to find Cammy hovering at the kitchen doorway.
Christ, she’s so fucking pretty, and all I want to do is haul her into my arms and hold her. I want her arms around me. Her tits squished up soft against my chest, her head against my heart.
“Thanks for the muffin.”
“Matty wanted to make them for you.”
Matty. Not her.
I look down at the floor around my feet, hating this tension sitting in the space between us.
From the first day I met this girl it was nothing but easy between us. Nothing but fun and relaxed and right. And now we can’t even talk about a fucking muffin.
She takes a step toward me and my heart kicks, but then she stops. Her hands landing on the back of her kitchen chair.
“You looked good playing. Kind of intense.”
“Yeah, good win.”
Her hands coast over the back of the chair in a move that’s almost restless, and I can’t help thinking about the way her hands felt moving over me. How she’d let me rest my head in her lap while she played with my hair, giving me that gentle touch and sweet affection.
“You seemed kind of... different. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just found my focus. Rhythm. Groove. Whatever.”
“Are your coaches happy? Have you heard anything more about trades?”
Yeah, I’ve heard plenty. But at this point it’s impossible to filter out the rumors from the truth. “Nothing solid.”
