Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
NOW
I woke up on Henry’s shoulder, corners of my mouth wet.
It’s funny how life worked sometimes. Here I was, unable to get an ounce of rest last night and spending twenty dollars to metaphorically hold Henry’s hand through his first flight, only to sleep through the entirety of it. And Henry probably still ended up with that drool on his hoodie.
I wouldn’t know, I was too afraid to check.
To add to the humiliation of that, I’d woken up with a stomach so empty, it felt as if I hadn’t eaten in a week. Which made me realize I’d been so occupied with complaining about the black coffee, I’d forgotten about breakfast.
And now, on the bridge, I remembered—“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, throwing a desperate glance across my shoulder. Henry stopped beside me.
The blonde flight attendant sported her best customer-service smile, wishing each guest a good day and thanking them for flying with her airline. All while she was completely oblivious to the fact I hadn’t paid for that seat. “I forgot to—”
But Henry nudged me along gently. I turned to him, honestly a little frantic, because I hadn’t paid, and that poor girl would probably lose her job because of it—because of me . His smile felt a little too easy. A little too knowing.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as if it was that easy. As if he knew what I was talking about in the first place. They were going to fire her for this! I wanted to scream. “I took care of it.”
I deflated. Like a balloon and his words a needle. “What do you mean?”
As in, he charmed his way into not paying? I could see it. He had been dubbed the talk of the plane.
“She came over with the machine, like halfway through the flight. Since you were passed out.” He glanced my way, amusement glimmering in his green eyes. “And I didn’t want to wake you, I just paid it.”
I blinked up at him. Once, twice. “You were not supposed to do that.”
I’d been the one who wanted to do him a favor. Now, not only hadn’t I been there for him for the flight, I hadn’t even paid for the seat. Henry had essentially paid to be drooled on. One glance at his shoulder revealed the damp patch and confirmed my fear.
“It’s nothing,” Henry assured me. “Besides, Heather thought we were sooooo cute together.” He didn’t try to hide the teasing tone in his voice. In fact, it was on full display. Paired with a matching smirk and a cocked brow. “How couldn’t I pay for my girlfriend’s seat? When she wanted to sit next to me so badly?”
It wasn’t just my little white lie being revealed that brought color to my cheeks, but the word girlfriend out of Henry’s mouth. It reminded me of when that had been true, when he’d hold my hand and kiss my lips. My stomach dropped at the thought, and I groaned.
“Fuck off”, I huffed, only half joking. “Here I was trying to do something nice for you.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest like I was five years old and hadn’t gotten my way. “And this is the thanks I get?”
We— I continued stomping out of the airport, while Henry navigated us, only stopping outside the terminal’s sliding doors with a snicker. His eyes searched the parked cars. “What?” I huffed, and I wasn’t proud of the tone in my voice. “Can’t find your driver?” Mocked pity laced my voice, and I pouted to really sell my point. “It’s almost like you can’t just throw money at things and expect them to work.”
Alright, yes, maybe I still wasn’t over those twenty dollars and tried to compensate massively for the fact that I’d drooled on my ex-boyfriend.
His eyes sliced to mine at the remark, a puzzled glare in his expression.
“ They got us a driver,” he said slowly, amending my very unserious guess. He looked across his shoulder one last time before nodding in the same direction. “And he’s right there.”
Black SUV. Matching sunglasses on his big nose and fully suited up, the guy looked like he was straight out of a movie. The way he stood on the curb beside the car, holding a sign in front of his round belly.
Henry Pressley. Paula Castillo. New York Blue Eagles.
I tried to ignore the warm feeling in the pit of my stomach at the way our names looked on a sign. Like they belonged together.
“You would’ve probably already seen him if you weren’t so busy trying to argue.” But Henry smiled as he said the words, and it seemed nothing could get him to argue with me. Nothing could rile him up enough to be mad. Not even my piss-poor attitude.
The driver offered to take my bag, then opened my door, and Henry exchanged a few words with the man in black once I’d crawled into the backseat. He joined me a minute later.
“Don’t tell me what I’m trying to do,” I snapped even before he could close his door.
“I’m not,” he said. “But you know we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you weren’t hungry.”
And the way he still knew me so well was… shocking. Kind of. Another part of me wasn’t surprised at all, and it only irritated me further.
I whirled around in my seat with a fierce glare, ready to throw the next undeserving harsh words at him. I didn’t, because instead of the smirk, the teasing gleam in his eyes I’d expected, Henry held a protein bar toward me with an eyebrow raised.
“What’s this?” I asked like a dumbass. Like it didn’t say on the packaging in bold, capital letters.
Some of his brown hair fell into his face, tilting his head like he thought the same thing. “You’re hungry.” Masterful deduction .
“I’m vegan.”
He turned the bar in his hand. “I know.” And honestly, he sounded a little exasperated at that point. I couldn’t blame him, and anyway, I was only looking at the V-label in the corner of the protein bar.
Reluctantly, I took it out of his hand, and my stomach roared so loudly, man in black behind the wheel— Andy —could probably hear it.
“Have you been carrying this around for a year?” I asked, ripping the package. Honestly, I did not care if he had.
“No.” He threw a pointed look my way. “I got used to having food around when we went out together, and it kind of stuck with me. I just adjusted from Oreos to… well.” He gestured to the bar in my hand, one bite already missing.
“To protein bars.” I finished his sentence, mouth still full.
Henry tried to suppress a smile at that, and I tried to force a scowl. Neither of us succeeded.
“So,” I hummed, spirits suddenly lifted after the second bite. Like the past twenty minutes hadn’t happened at all. “Vegan pancakes. Vegan protein bars. Are you sure you haven’t adjusted your diet?”
Henry barked a laugh, and I really could get used to the sound of it again. Leaning into his seat, shoulders sagging, he shook his head in amusement. “Just trying to up your daily intake from those ten grams of protein you mentioned,” he joked.
That protein bar was gone quicker than I’d thought, though at least now the mind-riddling, insanity-inducing hunger pains were taken care of. By the time we approached the hotel, I almost felt like a human being again.
“Hey,” Henry said, voice gentle, quiet beside me. “About the flight.” When I looked at him, he scratched the back of his neck only to be doing something, it seemed.
I’d done my best to ignore the fact I’d basically left him alone with his fear of—or at least discomfort with—flying for an hour, if only not to deal with a guilty conscience. Because if I remembered correctly, I was fast asleep by takeoff.
“I really did switch seats to be there for you!” I blurted. Before he could accuse me of being a horrible… friend, then tell me not to use what he’d revealed in the article. Which I wouldn’t, obviously. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he asked, puzzled. “Why? What could have possibly been more reassuring than you, Paula?”
My breath accidentally caught in my throat, and it was hard work trying to hide it with my next one. Friend, friend, friend , I reminded myself.
“Bad jokes, statistics about how unlikely crashes are, reassuring hand squeezing! Honestly, just being awake during takeoff and landing.”
He huffed, almost laughed. “It just means you didn’t have to see my sweaty palms and weak knees. Win-win.” The thought only made my insides clench harder. “As for the reassuring hand squeezes.”
I shouldn’t have mentioned those out loud.
“The way you clung to my arm like it might detach from my body if you didn’t…” He let the words linger between us on purpose. “Very reassuring. I think I might’ve even slept for a minute or two.”
The smile on my face turned sheepish, solely to distract from the added color in my cheeks. “No!” I gasped. “That many?”
The car rolled to a stop before he could reply, and his driver opened Henry’s door for us to step out—right into the lobby of a hotel that looked like it offered a standard rate of my Daisy’s salary when I’d still picked up shifts regularly.
I went to grab my bag from the trunk, but Henry held me by the shoulder just long enough to notice the bellhop, who’d taken the task on himself. A minute later, our bags rolled past us without either of us lifting a finger.
Honestly, until now I hadn’t been sure bellhops weren’t just a thing in movies—had never stayed in hotels expensive enough for them to be real.
“You get used to it,” Henry said lowly, responding to the look on my face. His hand dropped from where it sprawled across my shoulder. While he slipped our… luggage man a twenty-dollar tip, I tried to keep my mind from replaying his whispered words on repeat. Rough voice, amusement etched into the sound.
Mierda . I’m in so much trouble.
I never would’ve thought hotels with a nightly rate of over half a grand could ever be fully booked. Today, I’d learned that they could –-and ours was. Which meant our rooms were still being turned over and we’d only be able to check in after three PM.
Henry, of course, hadn’t planned for time in our rooms anyway, and he seemed only half as distraught by the minor change of plans.
“No worries,” he’d said to the receptionist. Mandy . He told me he’d planned to be at the stadium by 11:30 anyway, and I just grabbed my interview essentials before we were back in Andy’s SUV.
I had no idea how Henry calculated New York City traffic into his schedule, but we arrived on the dot. Of course we would.
“Your punctuality needs to be studied,” I muttered in slight disbelief, slipping my phone back into my pocket when we got to the back entrance of the arena. The one reserved for players, friends and family only.
He nodded in sarcastic agreement. “One of my many talents.”
“Another one must be humility?”
“Precisely.” He held the door open for me, which led into a hallway stretching to both sides. As soon as it fell shut behind us, a semi-familiar voice echoed off the white walls. Marty .
Henry seemed to have expected his manager. And unlike the last time, he did not seem opposed to his presence. He even sported a polite smile, and initiated their back-pat-hug.
“Paula,” Marty said by way of a greeting when he turned to me. The harsh light from the ceiling bounced off his bald head. “So good to see you decided to come.” And the lingering glance at Henry told me how big of a deal this must’ve been.
For Marty, because his newest addition to the roster was supposed to sign his final contracts this weekend. Because he’d see Henry in the team colors and had me here to write a stellar profile that would hopefully sell to bigger press. PR was more important than ever in the big sports leagues.
And for Henry because this would be his home stadium for at least a year, and the idea was probably settling in now. Confirming that he’d worked hard for what he’d wanted and had gotten it. That our breakup must’ve been worth it because in a way, it had gotten him drafted by an MSL team. He’d made it.
“Team’s out for camp,” Marty continued, eyes flicking back to me. “So he’s got the whole thing to himself. I’m sure you’ll get some good stuff. Are you taking pictures?”
I shook my head, unsure. Was I supposed to?
“I was told they’d be provided.”
“Perfect.” Marty clapped his hands together in delight before one found itself on Henry’s back, and the other on my own. The Blue Eagles’ manager nudged us along, around a corner that revealed the soccer pitch.
It smelled like freshly trimmed grass, its dark green contrasting the white lines on it perfectly. Like they’d been freshly painted on just this morning. A few more steps, and I could see the blue seats of the stadium, all empty. Only for a girl to jump into view and scatter my focus so much, I flinched.
Henry glanced at me in worry, and she scowled in confusion.
“Hi!” The woman held her hand out for me to shake, then Henry. “I’m Hallie.” Her dark braids were tied into a high ponytail, and she wore casual jeans and a T-shirt that made it impossible to miss the camera around her neck.
“The Blue Eagles’ photographer,” Marty offered in explanation. “She’s getting some shots of Henry for the website and everything today, anyway. So, if you want, she can take some candid ones on the field, too. Get them to you—”
Hallie cut him off. “Thank you, Marty!” she said cheerily, when what she seemed to want to say was more along the lines of, I can speak for myself, thank you very much. She turned back to me. “I won’t be in your hair for long at all. Twenty minutes, tops. Then you’ve got him all to yourself.”
Her attention flicked to Henry, who’d been treated like a second thought so far. By the look on his face, and the smile when he looked at me, he seemed content with that. “And you’ve got the pitch, of course.”
I felt a little like I’d just been rolled over by a truckload full of information. So, all I said was, “That would be lovely, thank you,” and hoped it sounded as polite as I’d intended it to.