I’m burning up, gooseflesh covering my skin as I imagine doing precisely this, helping CK disrobe, in an entirely different scenario…one where the door we’re closed behind belongs to my bedroom and it hasn’t been only minutes since he got home from a date with somebody else.
CK eventually bends, making it easier for me to ease the shirt off and over his head. His hands fall to my hips once free, the brush of his thumbs along the band of my shorts putting all kinds of ideas in my head.
Busying myself, I drop my gaze from the tempting man in front of me and pointedly focus on turning the polo right side out. The blood has already dried to a deep brown, and even after treating it with the stain solution, the shirt might be a lost cause.
Still…
Fixing it will give me something to do and hopefully help me remember what my role is here—love coach, not love interest.
Putting some much-needed distance between us, I move back to the counter and grab the spray bottle. “Okay, stop trying to avoid it.” I glance back over my shoulder. “Give me the play-by-play.”
CK’s body is stiff, his hands shoved in the pockets of his linen shorts, his shoulders bunched up near his ears. “Why?”
I sigh, rolling my eyes at his petulant tone.
“Because any athlete worth their salt knows the only way to get better is to study game tape.”
“I think it’s more than obvious I’m not a jock.”
My movements still, the plastic handle of the toothbrush I’m using to loosen the blood from the fibers of the shirt digging into my palm as I squeeze it tighter.
Meticulously setting everything down, I slowly spin to face CK. With the counter behind me, I lean against it, reaching back and curling my hands over the beveled edge of the countertop.
“I don’t know…”
I give him one hundred percent of my attention, tracking my gaze from the top of his stylishly messy hair over those yummy sexy glasses, my heart cracking at the vulnerability swimming in the blue orbs behind them.
“I’ve seen you working out with the guys.” Or more like shamelessly watched him.
My inspection continues down the length of his body, noting the unassuming muscle tone those sessions have crafted.
Physically he’s hot as hell.
But…
Gah!
I wish he saw himself the way I see him.
His looks are the smallest piece of my crush on him. His wit. His charm. The way he can explain and teach a person something without making them feel stupid. His unflinching loyalty to those he cares about. Those are the things I value most.
It’s criminal how a person who has as much to offer as CK can become blinded to all the things that make them special, how insecure douchebags can twist their own shortcomings and project them onto those they deem weaker and unworthy.
“But I was speaking more metaphorically since I’m supposed to be your coach and all.”
It’s become sort of a bad habit of mine to remind him of my role in his life. I can’t decide if it’s a brilliant plan or pure stupidity. Yes, I’ve admitted that Tessa’s strategy has been working in getting him to open up to me, but…why can’t I shake the feeling that this is all just going to blow up in my face?
“Now tell me about your date.”
He’s silent for so long I begin to suspect he’s going to continue with his evasion. “I think I broke her nose.”
“What?!” I all but shout, not at all prepared for that to be what he says when he finally chooses to speak.
CK flinches, his answering nod so minuscule it could barely be classified as a confirmation.
“Sorry.” I clasp my hands together, attempting to rein in my shock. “Umm…” I quickly cycle through bowling scenarios that could lead to a broken nose but come up empty. “You mean…like you didn’t realize she was standing so close, and when you swung your arm back to shoot, you clocked her in the face?”
I have no clue if this is possible or not, but it’s all I got. Honestly, a toe or a foot is more along the lines of the bones I could imagine being broken in a game of bowling. It’s easy for a ball to slip and land on a foot, but a nose? Oof.
“I wish.” His deadpan delivery has me laughing as I ask, “What?”
He sighs, his head tipping back on his shoulders. He keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling and says, “I think I broke her nose when I tried to kiss her good night.”
I blink, stunned, speechless.
Umm…
I guess given the blood on his shirt, it sorta makes sense, but…
How?
“Okay…I’m going to need you to paint me a picture here, Superman.”
As if my request pulled the plug on his reservations, the events of the night spill out of CK like a dam bursting.
He tells me how Julia bested him two games to one, how as impossible as it sounds, she seemed more reserved than him, and unlike him, she didn’t seem to thaw when he tried to use my questions and fun facts on her.
I have to clamp my teeth together to not let out an audible squee upon hearing how he appreciates my randomness.
A rock of disappointed sadness settles in my gut when he tells me about the strangers at the lane next to them celebrating his 7-10 split more than Julia did. I make a mental note to tell the others when we get outside.
“I couldn’t even tell you if she had a good time or not, so by the time the date was over, I was all—” He circles his hands by his head. It’s something I’ve noticed he does any time he apologizes for zoning out on me when we hang out. “I even jumped when she tried to kiss me because I was all caught up in my own head.”
“You jumped?” He nods. “How high?” I can’t keep my smile from creeping into my voice.
“Why does that matter?” Oh, I know that exasperated tone of his well.
“Because I need it to gauge the severity of the situation. A little oh-my-god-you-scared-me jump like you do when you hear a loud noise in a scary movie is not the same as the feet fully losing-contact-with-the-ground type.”
“What about the kind that has you splattering salsa all over a person?” Some of his embarrassment falls away as he turns the tease around on me, as does some of the space between us as he moves closer.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” I hoist myself onto the counter, never taking my gaze off his twinkling one as I slide back and cross one leg over the other.
“Would you if the situation were reversed?”
I pretend to ponder the question but eventually shake my head with a laugh. Yeah, right.
I make a rolling motion with my hands. “Okay…get to the part where you think you broke Julia’s nose. You didn’t like”—I mime a palm strike to the face—“when she scared you, did you?”
He takes two more steps closer. “I wish.”
Oh-kay.
“CK,” I prod again.
“Umm…” He grips the back of his neck. “So after proving just how much of a geek I am—” I growl at the comment, but he ignores it, clearing his throat and taking another step closer. “I used a corny bowling pun to confirm permission…and…I…” He’s now close enough that I can feel his body heat on my bare legs. “Uh…leaned in to kiss her but must have miscalculated the angle or something, and instead of us kissing…I…kinda…sorta…headbutted her.”