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After the gym, I decide to grab lunch with JJ and Leo, while Reed goes off to hang out with his girlfriend Willow. He recently went public about his relationship with her after months of secrecy because of her job as head sports reporter for the TV network our team works closely with. I had never seen him so hung up on a woman before Willow came into his life, and while he’s still a hard ass, scowling grump most of the time, he seems lighter these days. I know Willow is to thank for that. God help anyone if they were to ever break up—which, truthfully, I don’t see ever happening.
Lunch remained uneventful, save for the few fans that spotted us and asked for pictures and autographs—though, fortunately, they waited until after we were done eating. There’s nothing more annoying than when you’re just trying to enjoy a meal at a restaurant and people don’t have the decency to wait until you’re done eating to ask for pictures. I know it’s the life we signed up for, going pro, but it still is irritating.
When I arrive at my building, nodding at Reggie, the guy who mans the front desk, a small smile quirks at the corner of my mouth when I recognize Daria waiting for the elevator. She’s got reusable grocery bags in either hand, and I’m suddenly thinking about the first time we had met.
She had been haggard, trying to balance Elaine in one arm and holding onto one of those brown paper bags filled with groceries. A plastic bag of green onions had dropped to the ground in the elevator, and I did the mundane, decent thing of picking it up for her. She had thanked me, looking all too relieved of not having to bend down and pick it up herself, and the sight of her blue eyes pulled me in. She was beautiful, and I felt like a bit of an ass for thinking that when she was clearly having a rough go of it. At that moment, she hadn’t said if she recognized me—which she had—but expressed her gratitude all the same.
And then after that, we would keep running into each other; in the parking garage of the apartment building, the lobby, the elevators, occasionally the building’s gym if I decided to squeeze a quick work out in. In those chance meetings, we became friends, and things just went on from there.
“Couldn’t stay in the apartment, huh?” I ask knowingly as I come to stand next to her.
Daria looks up at me, a wry half grin curling at her mouth. “It’s always too quiet without her,” she says, just as the elevator doors slide open.
We step in and I press the buttons for both of our floors, the doors shutting. I can’t really imagine the separation anxiety Daria feels whenever Elaine goes to stay with her father, but the look on her face says it all. She misses Elaine, despite knowing she’s okay with her dad; it’s in her eyes, a specific kind of sadness and longing only a mother feels for her child, I imagine.
I’ve seen a version of that, years ago. Haunted hazel eyes, like my own, emptied of all emotion in the face of an unimaginable loss.
I shake the image out of my head, my muscles tensing as the elevator rises. “What’re your plans for distraction?” I ask, injecting some humor into my tone.
She snorts, and I always liked how Daria never puts up any pretenses in front of me. I’m far too used to people doing that around me. “Maybe I’ll paint, work on some commissions.” Daria looks up at me with a little grin. “But I’ll probably end up watching some Disney movie.”
My own grin touches my mouth as I shake my head in amusement. “Why don’t you come to mine? We can order take out and watch movies together.”
Daria throws me a mockingly scandalized look. “You’re a little too old to want to Netflix and chill,” she deadpans.
“With you? Never?” I retort, making her laugh. Then I shoot her a look and add, “And stop calling me old, woman. I’m only thirty, for fuck’s sake.”
Daria laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls. Before I can remind her she’s only five years younger than me, the elevator opens up to her floor. As she steps out, she says, “Well, since you’re begging, I’d love to Netflix and chill.” She snickers when I roll my eyes in exasperation. “What time’s good?”
I shrug. “Six?”
“See you then, Superstar.”
The door shuts when she’s gone, and I’m left shaking my head in amusement. The nickname never fails to make me chuckle, though I would never tell her that. She loves to refer to me asSuperstar, but has never treated me as such. Another thing I really like about her.
When I get to my apartment, the penthouse on the top floor, I pass the next few hours by doing laundry, responding to emails, and having a quick meeting with my agent about upcoming events. Once I’m done with all of that, I turn on the TV and watch some highlight reels from our last few games, making notes on where we could potentially improve, what to do during our next games and what not to do. It relaxes me, funnily enough, and keeps my mind busy at the same time.
Eventually, six o’clock rolls around and there’s a knock on my door. Daria stands on the other side, in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that threatens to drown her, her blonde hair in waves around her shoulders. As soon as I open the door, she pins me with a look and says, “We’re not watching a horror movie.”
I scoff. “Yeah, like I don’t know your movie preferences,” I say as I open the door wider, allowing her to walk in.
She laughs, turning to look at me and walking backwards further into the living room. “I’m in the mood forGodzilla, if I’m being honest.”
“Your obsession with monster movies is weird,” I comment, locking the door behind us and following her. “What’re you in the mood to eat?”
Daria hums thoughtfully as she sits on the couch, and I try not to think too deeply about how comfortable she is in my apartment, the same way I am in hers. “Pizza? Wings?”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Pizzaandwings?”
She points at me, eyes widening. “I knew there was a reason why I liked you.”
Pulling out my phone to place the order, I join her on the couch and muse, “It’s not because of my dick?”
Daria laughs, though I do spot the way her cheeks pinken at my words. “That’s just a bonus,” she waves me off dismissively, making my smile widen a bit in amusement.
“Way to humble a man,” I mutter as I open up the Uber Eats app on my phone.
