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He reaches over and, with the lightest touch, turns my head to face him, leans in, and presses the softest kiss on my lips.
“And if you change your mind and kissing is all you want to do, that’s perfectly okay with me, too,” he whispers a breath away.
I want to kiss him again, but his phone chimes and he turns away to grab it.
“We have to go. Bus leaves in five,” he says, standing from the bed and picking up his coat from on top of his bag.
I can’t believe I have a hookup date with a guy in my hotel room tonight. My stomach is a flurry of nerves just thinking about it. But in a good way. Like when you’re in line waiting to get on a ride for the first time. You know that it will probably be amazing, and your anticipation builds as your mind can focus on nothing but getting to the front of the line and having your go.
“Come on,” Ian calls from the doorway.
“Sorry, I’m coming,” I reply, trying to focus on the here and now and not what’s coming later tonight. I grab my stuff and follow him out of the room.
“Now, as hard as it may be, you can’t get caught checking me out today,” he says, stepping into the elevator first. “We have a rivalry to keep up, remember?”
“I’m sure I can resist the lure of your perfectly round ass.”
He laughs but stops himself when the doors open to reception, turning it into a fake cough. I struggle to hide my smile. Today is going to be tough.
Sherman greets us at reception.
“So you two survived the night then,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “Did you work out your shit?”
I shrug, and Ian scoffs beside me.
“No point,” he says, nudging my shoulder on his way past.
“Fuck you, too,” I say, as Sherman just shakes his head at us both.
I down the last of my coffee and dump the cup before anyone can see we’re drinking from the same branded takeaway cups.Can’t really keep them thinking we hate each other if we’re getting each other coffee.
The teams have a bunch of new content to shoot on the field. Storms are predicted for the next few days, clearing before game three on Thursday, so we won’t get as much one-on-one time with the players today.
This rival act hasn’t helped my article views yet, but my work hasn’t been the most engaging either. I’ve been distracted, but today I feel fresh. Excited. The words flow freely, and when I read them back after lunch, I’m excited to see that they’re not half bad.
I thought up a couple of duck quotes for Ian to use, too, and managed to hide four more ducks between leaving the hotel and heading out for lunch at a nearby restaurant with the rest of the writers.
“What you got there?” Rob asks just as I’m about to drop the fifth duck on the windowsill in the men’s bathroom.
“Ahh, I found a duck.”
“Seriously? That means it has to be one of us leaving them all over the place. Give me a look.”
“Guess so. Who do you think it is?” I ask, tossing him the duck painted to look like it’s wearing a jacket and bow tie. I figured this one looked the most like a bathroom attendant from some fancy hotel.
“My money’s on the rookie. He reckons he found that one the first day, but he could have just said that to throw us off.”
“If that was true, isn’t it just as likely I could be doing the same thing?”Shut up, shut up, shut up, I tell myself the second the words are out of my mouth.
He seems to ponder that for a moment, scrunching up his nose before shrugging.
“I guess so. Well, is it you?”
“No.”
“Then it has to be him.”
Wow, that was easy.
