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Kelsey laughs. “No offense taken. They’re abstract,” she tells me. “A bit of nothing and yet everything.”
I stand there, staring at them and can completely understand what she means. The artist left the meaning of the paintings up to whoever looked at them. I turn around and walk toward her, she backs up until she’s on her bed. I put my hands on either side of her and lean down to look into her eyes.
“Thank you for showing me around your apartment.”
“It’s small,” she says quietly.
“But it’s perfect. How about tomorrow, I will take you to my place?”
“I’d like that.”
We head back into the living room, and I go to the bookcases. “Have you read all of these?”
Her eyes widen. “No, not even close. I keep a list on my phone. For every book I’ve read, I end up buying or getting ten. The cycle is endless.”
“It’s kind of like that for us players too,” I tell her. “If they have a new product and they want your endorsement, they’ll send you a sample. If you sign a deal with them, they send you products. Sometimes, they go overboard, but I get it. They want you to always carry their stuff around with you because they’re paying you.”
“Is that why you’re always dressed in Nike?”
I nod. “I have an endorsement deal with them, plus they’re local. The next time I head out to the compound, I’ll take you with me. We can go shopping.”
“Oh, new yoga pants. I like this idea a lot.”
Kelsey and I laugh. “You’re cute, you know that.”
She blushes, the pink in her cheeks turns a lovely shade of red. “I don’t know the last time someone called me cute was.”
“I can use the other words if it helps. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning.”
“Stunning?” She looks at her clothes. “I’ve never been called stunning before.”
“You are to me.” I go to her and pull her into my arms. “And lovely, sweet, kind. You knock me off my feet.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Everything about you, Kelsey, is a good thing.”
NINE
KELSEY
It’s been two weeks since Alex visited me at work and then came to my apartment, and this weekend will mark the first time I get to see him play in person. And tonight, Alex’s making me dinner.
At. His. House!
I’m not nervous. At least, this has been my mantra all day. Truth is, I’m scared shitless, and I don’t know why. I like Alex and I know he likes me. If he doesn’t . . . well, he has an odd way ofnotshowing it.
We make out like horny teenagers, and I love it. I love every second we’re together. We cuddle on my couch, watch movies together, and he’s there when I’m working on manuscripts at night. We never talked about taking things slow, but it’s exactly what we’re doing, and it’s working, despite my desire growing for him daily. I’ve never felt this connected to someone before.
The rideshare I’m in slows down and I peer out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex’s house. Tall, still thick with foliage, the trees block the view of his home from the road. The driver turns and within seconds, everything opens and a white modern farmhouse with black accents looms before us.
“We’re here,” the driver says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. This is the address you gave me.”
My neck cranes, seeking any clue that this is Alex’s place, and then I see his truck. A sigh of relief washes over me as I reach for the door handle. “Thank you.” As soon as I’m out of the car, I conclude the ride on my app, and stand there, staring at the two-story home. “Why on earth does he need a home this big if it’s just him?” I mutter aloud as the car pulls away.
