I face Austin, “I think we can work this to your advantage.”
“What?”
“Us.” I gesture between us. “This thing we’re doing to mess with Colt and Rome.”
“I’m listening.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Keely is over there right now staring daggers at me.”
Austin glances over at Keely and gives me an almost imperceptible nod.
“Which means, she’s noticing. You bringing a date into her work is like hanging a big flashing sign above your head. She can’t help but pay attention.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I live with Colt,” I deadpan, like that explains it all. “I’m used to the jealous stares, mostly from the fluffle-heads trying to get into his pants, but sometimes there is one that really thinks she has a shot with him, and I become enemy number one. I’m a threat to them. I guarantee Keely also views me as a threat now.”
“You think so?”
“Yep. This is good though. Because it might be what she needs to open up a little, to appreciate you as more than a friend, if she doesn’t already.”
“She doesn’t. Trust me.”
“She could be as scared as you and not willing to risk the friendship.”
Austin’s eyes light up and his hopeful smile is sweet. “Really?”
I nod. “I’ll help you.”
“Why?”
“Because I grew up believing love was only something that happened to princesses in fairytales, and real-life Prince Charmings were a myth. You’ve restored what little faith I had in love and I want to help you win the girl.”
11
Colt
My knuckles are raw, and I’m sure tomorrow there’ll be bruises and swelling, but the punching bag was a better substitute for Austin’s face than the brick wall outside our apartment.
He took Em out for coffee this morning, then she had class and work. I haven’t seen her all day and I’m getting anxious.
I check the time on my phone and run my hands through my hair. I’m sure time is running backwards. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, I wait, but I’m spiraling and need to do something. All day without Em is a nightmare. It doesn’t happen often where I don’t get to spend at least half my day with her.
I’m like a junkie, and she’s my fix. When ball fails, she’s always the hit I need to bring me back down.
I get out of the car and grab the ball from the back.
I don’t have a court, or a ring, but I have the pavement and a wall. I run some drills, practice dribbling the ball, and shooting by aiming at a mark on the wall. My heart hammers in my chest and my mind races.
Hundreds of questions run through my head, all centered on Austin and what his intentions are with Em.
Jesus, even in my head I sound like an overprotective father.
A door opens and light spills out into the dark street as laughter fills the air.
Em walks out and I drop my ball. Rushing over to her, I wrap my arms around her and hug her to my chest.
She wraps her arms around me and sighs. “I missed you, too.”
“Sorry, I’ve been going crazy all day. You’re not allowed to date on days you have to work or go to school,” I whisper into her hair. I breathe her in. She smells like Chinese food. She always does after a shift. She’s warm and feels like home. “It’s too much for me to handle.”
“So, you’re saying the only day I can date is Sunday?”
“Sunday is our day, so no.”
“I can never date?”
“Never. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make though,” I tell her, giving her one last squeeze before releasing her and moving to open her door.
“How generous of you.”
“What can I say, I’m a giver.” I wink at her and then cringe. Damn it. Only douchebags wink. She laughs as I close her door.
My heart calms down and the tightness in my chest eases on the drive home. She always does that to me. She’s my calm in a storm.
Em kicks off her shoes once we’re inside. “Are you hungry?”
“What did you bring me?” I eye the bag in her hand. Whenever she works nights, she brings home a container of leftovers for me.
“Fried rice.” My stomach growls, and she laughs. “Guess that’s a yes.”
I take the bag from her hands and go into the kitchen to reheat the food while she takes a shower.
She comes out of the bathroom twenty minutes later wearing a pair of short shorts that have unicorns on them and a white tank top.
I frown.
“What?” She glances down at her pajamas and picks at some invisible lint.
I pull my shirt off and throw it at her and shrug. I like it when she wears my shirt.
Em grins and slips it over her head before coming to sit on the sofa beside me while we eat and watch basketball replays. Old games of ours and other teams’. I study them and learn the moves so I learn what to expect on the court.
It bores her like it does my dad, but I appreciate that she sits through it to keep me happy.
We finish eating and Em clears the plates while I switch off the television and sit on the bed.
“Remember that time I let you play with my boobs?” she calls from the kitchen.
My eyebrows lift and I choke on air, not expecting her to bring that up. She hates when I mention it. She walks into the bedroom, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.
“No. No I don’t.” I cough, my eyes dropping to her chest.
Best pair of tits I’ve ever seen. First pair I’d seen, though not the last. I definitely remember when she let me touch them and she’s well aware I do.
I have it tattooed on my arm for fuck’s sake.
Best. Day. Ever.
I smirk. “Care to refresh my memory?”
Emerson huffs out a breath and steps toward me, coming to a stop between my legs. She reaches for my hand and brings it to her chest squeezing my fingers around her breast. “Ring any bells?”
Heat floods my body and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. I look like a panting dog, but I don’t care. Her tits are perfect.
She’s indulging me. Manipulating me, knowing I’ll agree to about anything when presented with such temptation.
“Hmmm. I think I need to touch the other one.” I grab her hips and pull her down on the bed beside me. She squeals and laughs as I shift until I am straddling her legs.
With a grin I reach out and grab her other breast, kneading both. She can’t appear less interested in what I am doing, as though she’s bored. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing. The ball bitches who frequent the basketball games and after parties trying to get in the team’s shorts are always over eager, fluttering their lashes, licking their lips, pushing their tits out.
I swear they compete to see how many balls they can score, and I don’t mean on the court.
They’re as eager as a man in the desert when he finds water. Just as thirsty, too.
“Remember now?” She shoves my hands off her.
“Oh yeah. That was a good day,” I say. “I was so nervous about that date, but you manned up and came through.”