Chapter 7 #2
Sophie has never been a morning person. Even when we were little kids having sleepovers, I would be awake for hours playing video games with her brothers before she finally made it out of bed.
And she crashes here at least a couple times a month, stumbling into the kitchen wearing one of my T-shirts, pajama pants, and knee socks, with a bleary-eyed scowl.
The point is, I have seen Sophie Sullivan like this a million times in my life, so there should be no reason for my heart to kick up, for something strange and unknown to curl in my stomach.
I shouldn’t feel like my eyes are glued to her.
Like I’ll die a little if I look away. I shouldn’t wish she would turn those bleary browns on me so I could see what’s lurking in their depths.
And I definitely shouldn’t feel like I want to wrap my arms around her and cuddle her against my chest, to learn in an entirely unfriendly way what her body feels like against mine.
What the fuck is happening right now?
It has to be some of the residual embarrassment and anxiety from last night.
The result of my conversation with my chaos girl and divulging a secret I’ve kept my entire life, even if it was just to a stranger on the internet.
That’s the only explanation. Because if I thought any more about it, I would consider the fact that I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to bury my face in Sophie’s neck to see what she smells like in the morning, and I don’t even know what to think about that.
I need to switch my brain out of this gear.
Immediately.
Channeling obnoxious best friend, I give her a grin and a wink.
“Looking fab, Soph. I particularly like the Laundry Day emblazoned over your ass.”
Sophie literally whips her head around and looks down, as if to make sure I can’t actually see her underwear, and when I chuckle, she turns back to me, her eyes shooting daggers. “Fuck all the way off, Tyler. It’s too early for your shit.”
Moment of pure insanity mercifully in the past and relieved we seem to be exactly ourselves this morning despite last night’s ass/cock contact situation, I push off the counter and drop a kiss on her cheek, flicking her bracelets as I guide her to a stool.
“Sit, Sal. You always feel better after coffee.”
She collapses into a stool and drops her head onto her folded arms with a groan.
Smiling, I grab her favorite mug from my cabinet—a giant hot pink situation with The Best Man for the Job is Usually a Woman written in purple script—and fill it with coffee.
I add milk and the butter pecan syrup I know is her favorite, then set the mug down in front of her.
As soon as she hears the clink of ceramic on the granite countertop, she lifts her head, cradling the mug in both hands and drinking the coffee like it’s a life-giving serum.
With each sip, I watch her eyes clear, fascinated, as always, by the way I can practically see her brain engage as the caffeine does its thing.
“Thank god,” she mutters, taking another sip. “I fucking hate mornings. There better be pancakes.”
Leaning my elbows on the counter opposite her, I scoff. “It’s like you think I don’t even know you. Of course there are pancakes.”
She takes one more sip of coffee before setting the mug down and giving me her full attention. “I need them extra today. I slept like shit last night.”
“You too?” I ask. “We should have had a three a.m. kitchen meetup.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Why couldn’t you sleep? You can always sleep.”
I shrug, because I think saying I couldn’t stop thinking about your ass grinding over my dick is the wrong move. “Just thinking about what I’m going to do this offseason. I usually have it planned out by now, but I dropped the ball this year.”
It’s not the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either.
Every offseason, I try and do something different and entirely unrelated to football.
One year I volunteered as a counselor at a local day camp for elementary-aged kids.
Another year I took a class in Dante’s Divine Comedy at the University of Pittsburgh with this really excentric professor in the Italian Studies department who draped the entire room in black cloths when we read Purgatory.
Last year I drove to Boulder with my parents and my sisters, recreating the road trip my parents took years ago when they first got together, and then I stayed there when everyone else flew home and spent some time with my grandparents and cousins.
But with the craziness of winning the playoffs and then the Super Bowl, I didn’t get around to planning this year’s adventure.
I give Sophie a hopeful smile. “Maybe I should come to work with you. You can set me up in a corner with a computer and I can wow everyone with my brilliance.”
She rolls her eyes. “The last time you came to work with me, everyone on my staff was too busy fawning over the hotshot quarterback to get any work done. Find something else to do that doesn’t involve my foundation.”
“Sophieeeee,” I whine, mostly because I know it will irritate her.
“Your foundation is massive. You don’t even have one single little event I can plan?
Some grants I can read? Wait! Can I work for one of your STEM camps?
I’m awesome with kids.” I lean into my elbows and prop my chin on my fists.
“Think of it, Sal. I can come to work with you every single day. We can hang all day long and I’ll never have to miss you because you’ll be right there.
I miss you during the season when I’m traveling, and if I can work with you for the offseason I can spend five months never missing you at all. ”
Something flashes in Sophie’s eyes at my words.
It’s a look I’ve never seen before and it has my stomach swooping, my heart thudding mysteriously in a way I don’t quite understand, just like it did when she walked into the kitchen earlier.
Her skin flushes a little, and for a split second all I can think is, Jesus, she’s beautiful.
So fucking beautiful. Our eyes are locked together, and before my brain can engage, I’m leaning across the counter to get closer to her as she does the same, the air between us turning heavy with thoughts and feelings unknown.
I open my mouth to say…I’m not sure what exactly because I have no idea what’s happening, but before I can get any words out at all, Sophie’s phone rings, shattering the moment.