CHAPTER 34 #2
I want him touching me, keeping me close.
And it did not start out that way. It did not start with friendship. It started with pure hatred, but that hatred built into so much more…yearning.
The “friend” label is something I would never slap on Graydon because if this thing between us ever ended, I know I wouldn’t be able to be around him afterward. Especially if he started dating someone else. I’d be gutted.
Devastated.
I wouldn’t want to continue some sort of friendship. No, it would have to be a clean break, never to see him again, never watch a Foghorns game, never once look at social media out of fear of seeing his handsomely carved face.
I wouldn’t be able to sustain any contact with him.
And that right there is the difference.
I place my hand on top of his as he navigates the roads, and ask, “So when do games start?”
“We have preseason games next week, and then the season starts.”
“Really?” I ask. “Wow, that’s quicker than I expected.”
“Training camp can’t go on for that long. We would be dead by the time the season starts.”
“What are you talking about? Training camp is not that hard.”
He side-eyes me, making me chuckle. “Says the girl who cut her eye open just from putting her helmet on.”
“Excuse me for being inexperienced with helmets.”
“Beautiful, it’s putting something on your head. It doesn’t take experience.”
“I beg to differ.”
He chuckles and squeezes my thigh as we pull up to the pier and right into a private parking spot.
When he puts the car in park, I glance over at him with a question in my brow. “What do you have planned, mister?”
He winks, and I nearly melt right there on his truck seat as he says, “You’ll see.”
With that, he gets out of the truck and moves around to my side, where he opens the door and helps me out.
I chose a simple pair of white jean shorts, brown strappy sandals, and a navy blue off-the-shoulder sweater.
I didn’t want to get too dressed up, given what he was wearing, but I also wanted to look nice for our first official date.
I kept my hair in a high ponytail, but redid it just to fluff it a little bit more.
Good thing I kept it in a ponytail because it seems like we’re going to be going out to sea.
He takes my hand in his and guides me out to the docks, where a decently sized yacht—nothing too obnoxious—is floating, three crew workers wearing white shirts and shorts waiting for us.
“Graydon, what is all of this?”
“A private evening,” he answers just as one of the crew members, wearing a hat, steps up.
“Good evening, Mr. St. John, Miss Baker. I’m Captain Rodger. We are very excited to have you join us this evening.”
Graydon shakes his hand firmly. “Thank you for making accommodations for us.”
“Of course. Let me introduce my crew to you.” He gestures to a man next to him. “This is Lionel, my first mate. And next to him is Sam. He will be taking care of all your needs tonight. Please do not hesitate to ask him for anything.”
Graydon nods toward them, and I wave while I lean into Graydon.
“Shall we get you on board?” Captain Rodger asks.
“That would be great,” Graydon says.
Captain Rodger leads us onto the boat and gives us a brief tour.
It’s really not a big yacht at all, which I like.
Anything too big would have been obnoxious.
There is a back sitting area where I can foresee spending most of the night, an indoor dining space if it gets cold or rains, and the front of the boat, also known as the bow—just learned that—has space to lie down but it feels more exposed to me. I’d rather sit in the back.
“Get comfortable. We will bring out drinks soon.”
Graydon thanks the crew and then turns toward me. “Where do you want to sit?”
“Can we sit in the back?” I ask.
“Don’t you mean ‘stern’?”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. It just feels more private back there.”
“I agree.” He lifts my knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly before walking me out to the back of the boat where there is bench seating, a table, and two chairs that face out toward the ocean. I choose one of those to sit in.
“What are you doing?” he asks, staring down at me while I get comfortable in my chair.
I look around as if I’m missing something and then say, “Uh, sitting down.”
“Yeah, in a chair.”
“Isn’t that what they’re made for?”
“You need to sit on the bench.”
I glance at the bench and back at him. “But then I have a view of the boat when I want a view of the ocean.”
“But with you sitting on the chair, I can’t hold you like I want. On the bench, you can sit in my lap.”
I chuckle. “Umm, didn’t know you were so needy.”
“Not needy, that’s just how I fucking like it.”
I nod. “Okay, I hear you, but how about this? We sit in the chairs for a little bit and then we can move to the bench, but only if we sit in the corner so we have a view of the ocean too.”
He seems to mull that over for a moment before grumbling under his breath and taking a seat in the chair next to mine.
“Let me know how you really feel,” I say on a laugh.
“Unpleased.” Then he scoots his chair as close to mine as it will go and places his hand on my thigh.
“Are you…throwing a tantrum?”
He stares out toward the dock. “No.”
I chuckle and lean in toward him. “Oh my God, you are.” I run my finger over his chest and then up to his jaw, where I turn his head so he’s looking at me.
“You are so throwing a tantrum.”
“Throwing a tantrum would be me lifting you out of that chair and chucking it across the bay before pulling you down on my lap. Now, if you would like to see that, I would be more than happy to oblige you.”
“As tempting as that is, I think we should keep all chairs on the boat.”
“I can chuck it and keep it on the boat too.”
I chuckle. “Not necessary.” I turn toward him and lean in close as the boat starts up and we pull away from the dock. “Is this what I’m going to have to get used to? You needing to be close as much as possible?”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Just like that. Just a yes.”
He nods. “You have a problem with that?”
“No, you just don’t seem like the type of guy who needs to be touching his girl at all times.”
“I wasn’t…until you.”
Well, if that doesn’t make my cheeks blush…
And my body heat.
I was right about how different this relationship is compared with every other one I’ve had.
“Your cheeks are flushed,” he says, turning toward me as well and cupping my face.
“That’s what happens when you say things like that.”
“It also happens when I’m buried between your legs.”
My face heats up even more from the brazen comment.
“Graydon.” I chuckle.
“What?” He looks at me as if genuinely curious and unsure why I just said his name.
“You can’t say things like that in public.”
“Sure as hell can.”
I laugh. “God, do you ever care what anyone thinks about you?”
“The answer would be no unless it has something to do with my mom and my family…well, and now you.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to care what people think about us.”
“We aren’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get pissed about it when someone tries to fuck with us.”
“But people love us.”
“For now,” he says. “The true trolls haven’t sunk their teeth into our situation yet. Trust me, everyone will have an opinion, and the internet will make it easy for those opinions to be voiced.”
“Then we just stay off the internet.”
“Solid plan.” He takes my hand in his and links our fingers together. “By the way, I was thinking about our upcoming games and was hoping that you would be at the first one. Not just because of our PR thing we got going on.” He looks me in the eyes. “But as my girlfriend.”
Oh God, why is he so adorable, asking like that?
The insecurity in his voice, the uncertainty in his eyes, as if I would say no.
“I would love to,” I answer. “I don’t think I could miss it. Maybe I can even suit up for you.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and he chuckles.
“Not happening, but if you happen to wear my name on your back, I wouldn’t mind that.”
“Like a jersey?”
“Yeah, a jersey. I can grab one for you. One that actually fits.”
“I would love that. Should I put your number on my cheeks too? Paint it on there? Oh wait, is that what the other girlfriends do?” I wince.
“Oh God, I’m not going to fit in with them, am I?
Aren’t they all fancy with how they dress?
” I glance down at my simple outfit and think about how Gretchen had to find me a dress for one of the fundraising events. “I might need to style—”
“You don’t need to do anything.”
“Graydon. Not that I’m full of myself, but you know people will be looking at me and taking pictures. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
His brow creases. “You’re not going to embarrass me.”
“Maybe I should at least get my nails done or something. I don’t really like fake nails, though, because of what I have to do for work—”
“Hey.” He grips my jaw, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
“Don’t change a goddamn thing. I like you the way you are.
I don’t want you to be like the other wives and girlfriends.
If I wanted you to be like them, I would have dated the girls who flung themselves at me a while ago.
I like you because you’re different, because you don’t care about things like nails and makeup.
I like you for your heart, for your smile, for the way you can so easily understand me without judgment.
So I want that woman at my games. Got it? ”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. If she doesn’t show up, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Well, won’t you being pissed only help you in the long run because then you’re more likely to plow through more men?”
“Making me angry will get me in trouble.”
“How so?”
“I’ve been known to lose my temper. And as much as it might seem so, we’re not allowed to punch in football.”
“Ah, I see. Well, we can’t have you losing your temper because then I wouldn’t be able to see you play.”