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“You and your mom are close. You talk a lot, I mean. And Sunday—I know all about Sunday.”
We both laugh softly at her call-back joke.
She holds my wallet out for me as I shift into park, and I take it and grip it tight as I nod.
“All of us are close. But yeah, my mom and I probably more than any of the others. She’s my rock.” I stop short of filling Laney in on the rest. Before I climb out of the Jeep to grab our order, though, her hand wraps around my wrist. My eyes dart to her face, but her gaze is on the wallet still in my hand.
“You’re lucky that you have that. Maybe I’ll get to meet her sometime.” There’s a tinge of melancholy in Laney’s voice all of a sudden, and she lets go of my wrist as quickly as she grabbed it.
I pause half in, half out of the Jeep and survey her as she quickly retrains her focus out the other window. She bites down on her thumbnail and her jaw flexes the way mine does when I’m holding something in.
“Maybe if we survive a week together you can meet her at my game. She’d like you. She’dreallylike the fact that you kicked my ass.”
Laney shakes with a laugh and her head swivels my way.
“She would, huh?” Her eyes squint.
“Oh, without a doubt.”
We hold onto this sweet moment for a breath, and somehow it doesn’t feel awkward. It does, however, feel heavy, so before it leads to either of us speaking more, I hop out of the cab and jog into the restaurant to grab our order.
By the time I get back behind the wheel, Laney’s turned her attention to her phone, and we finish the drive home in silence.
11/
laney
What am I doing?
I showered ten minutes ago and have done nothing but change from sleep shorts to a night shirt to sweats back to the night shirt.
The pizza is probably cold by now. I knew that Ivy was working an overnight tonight and that Matt was heading to Chicago for some invite he got from the Blackhawks thanks to his social coverage. I woke up this morning swearing I would never let what happened between us last night happen again. And yet, the first thing I do when presented with an opportunity is go full vixen.
It's not that I like Cutter. I mean, I’m softening on him a little. I don’t necessarily want to wish never-ending jock-itch on him anymore, but I also don’t fully trust him to not throw me under the bus in favor of his hockey team. I do like the attention, though. I like getting his attention and having him look at me like someone other than the girl who can’t stand him. And I like the way he makes me feel, and looking at him. Touching him.
“Screw it,” I mutter under my breath, spraying my hair with a few spritzes of the coconut oil that Cutter commented on smelling and liking when he gave me a ride the other morning.
I march out to the kitchen wearing my white cotton night shirt that buttons down the front. I haven’t worn this since Cam and I first started dating. That was back when things were new and exciting. Even then, he never commented on it. I always felt like he preferred me to be less promiscuous. Maybe less dominant. That’s not who I am, though. And if Cutter can handle sharing space with me being me, without crossing into that feelings territory, then this roommate situation might turn out alright.
“You missed most of the pizza. There are still two sli—” He stops mid-chew, practically choking on his bite as I step around him and pull out a chair at the table. I know how short this shirt is. I’m aware of everything I came out here wearing—and not wearing.
“I had a nice shower,” I say, reaching toward him and dragging the open pizza box toward me with my index finger. I grab one of the two slices left and prop it up on my fingertips before taking a careful bite. No need blowing my sex appeal by spilling a marinara-soaked sausage slice down my chin.
Cutter swallows and sits back in his chair, spreading his legs out wide. He’s still wearing his black joggers and that tight black shirt that he should probably just make his uniform because it literally contours to every muscle on his body.
“You uh . . . you have not been sleeping in that at night.” He raises his half-eaten slice. “I would have noticed.” He takes a bite, smiling through his chewing as his eyes rake over me.
“Mmm, yeah. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. I wouldn’t want to make you fall in love with me or anything.” I shoot him a devious grin then take another bite.
Cutter leans in and drops the rest of his slice in the open box before standing up and moving inches away from where I’ve propped one leg up in my chair. His gaze snakes down my thighto where the tails of my cotton shirt tuck between my legs. His tongue peeks through his front teeth and he smiles.
“I think you know exactly what you want me to feel right now, and it’s not love, Laney.” He winks then walks to the fridge to grab two beers. He pops the cap off of each bottle then hands me one. I finish off my slice of pizza then take a long sip while my gaze remains glued to his. I pull the bottle away from my lips with a slight suction, letting my lower lip linger against the smooth glass for a few seconds.
“You said we shouldn’t let this get weird, right?” It’s easy for me to be bold when my body is buzzing with need.
“I don’t find anything weird. Do you?” He slides back in his chair again and moves his hand over the growing bulge in his pants. I breathe out a quiet laugh but also instantly swell between my legs.
“No, I don’t. If you can handle this . . .arrangement, so can I.” I take another drink from my beer, and then set it on the table before slouching in my seat to mimic him. I leave my palms flat on my thighs as my legs part slightly, and Cutter’s gaze heats up as his head falls to one side in an attempt to see more.
