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“What, you don’t think I can control myself? You’re so hot I won’t be able to do anything but ravish you?”
Even in a dimly lit parking lot, I can see the flash of color that floods her cheeks. “Oh, God! I didn’t mean it like that!”
“I know you didn’t. I’m just busting your balls.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t have balls. Remember?”
“I remember.” I bite my lip, staring at her.
“Ryder, please stop making this harder than it has to be.”
Hearing her say that shouldn’t make me as happy as it does. It’s knowing she’s fighting it, too. That I’m not the only one wishing we could go someplace and tear each other’s clothes off. It doesn’t make this sudden abstinence any easier to deal with, but it’s not quite as miserable if I know she’s still thinking about me that way. I’m not in this alone.
“Really. I won’t push the envelope, I swear. I was sort of hoping we could spend some time together. That’s all.”
“And dinner wasn’t enough?”
“You’re like potato chips. I can’t stop at just one.”
“Oh, my God. Is that one of your best lines?”
“Depends. Did it work?”
That gets her. A giggle bubbles up out of her chest before she can stop it – even the hand she clamps over her mouth doesn’t do any good. “Fine,” she groans. “You can come and sleep over. But we both have to wear clothes.”
“Boxer briefs are clothes, aren’t they?”
She narrows her eyes – she wouldn’t if she knew how hot she looks that way. “Sure, sure. You are trouble.”
“I never pretended to be anything else, did I?” I’m not fooled. She likes that I’m trouble. There’s a part of her that’s turned on by how much trouble I am. “Meet you there?” I ask while backing away.
“Yeah. Meet you there.”
“No more roommate?”
“Oh, no. Didn’t I tell you? Corey moved out a couple of weeks ago. She has a place of her own now.”
I can’t say I’m sorry, even if Corey seems like a nice girl. It would be a little too awkward, trying to come up with a reason for me being there. “Cool. See you soon.” As far as I’m concerned, the car can’t move fast enough. I am hopelessly caught up in this woman. She’ll never understand how just about everything I do is wrapped up in her.
Soren and Ash might be living it up in Seattle, hanging out with pros, doing what I want more than almost anything to do. But they’re not sharing Harlow’s bed tonight, are they? That’s for me and me alone. If they find out, I won’t pretend to be sorry, either. I’ll be a good boy – there won’t be anything to apologize for. And not because it would hurt their feelings or whatever. It would hurt her. And I can’t stand it when she looks at me all disappointed and sad.
I guess that’s the thing about finding somebody you really care about. Maybe I just never did before. I never knew a woman whose opinion matters as much as hers. I’ve never known one I wanted to share so much with, either. Something about her makes me open up. I want to be honest. I want her to know me.
It’s kind of scary, but in a good way. Like in those final moments before the puck drops. There’s nothing but adrenaline and excitement and sure, everything could go completely to hell for so many reasons — but it could also be incredible, like it was today. When everything clicked and we were all in the zone together, putting to use what we learned in the off-season.
And we did it without the so-called stars. That feels pretty good, too.
I make it to the house before she does. I guess I’m even more eager than I thought, because I sit with my fingers tapping the wheel, wishing she would hurry up and get here. I let out a sigh of relief when her headlights appear down the street.
I promise to be good. I promise to be good.I have to remember that as we meet by her front door, or otherwise I might do something hopelessly stupid like grab a hold of her, throw her over my shoulder, and march up to the bedroom.
Instead of doing that, she cracks open a bottle of wine pulled from the fridge. “Sorry, I don’t have any beer.”
“Wine is fine.”
“Why don’t you sit on the couch? Maybe find some music to put on.” If I didn’t know better, I would think she’s trying to set the mood. I’m going to give her more credit than that. She is a hostess trying to make her guest comfortable. I keep that in mind as I pull up her Spotify account through her Smart TV.
“Your taste in music is… eclectic.”
