22. Rhodes
22
Rhodes
A ll we have to do is hold them and score more,” I explain to Amber in our huddle.
“Isn’t that the point of all sports?”
I stare past her shoulder at the sixty-year-old duo stretching out their quads. “Yes, but it’s true for right now, too.”
We’re nearing the end of the game, and we aren’t that far behind. Amber’s backhand is looking miles better than it did earlier this week, and all of the strategies I’ve learned online are really helping.
“I think we can win.” I’ve been hesitant to say this out loud because I didn’t want to jinx anything.
I’m wearing my lucky socks with avocados, so I’m probably safe.
“They’re still too good.”
I shush her. “Don’t say that! They are good, but we’ve also made them work for every point. I’m going to keep the pressure on them from the back, and you take them to the net.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Amber says, hands on her knees as she catches her breath.
I arch a brow. “Take them to the net?”
She nods.
Jim and Agnes are looking smug for two people about to lose. “It means end them .”
Amber smirks while continuing to nod. “Yeah, yeah. I like that.”
I didn’t think I was competitive, but participating in a blind dating experiment with two other guys vying for the love of my life really did a number on me. It unlocked something.
I’m not leaving here without a win.
“Destroy them on three,” Amber says, throwing her hand between us. I set mine on hers, and she starts counting. “One, two, three…destroy them!”
She said the last part louder than I expected her to, but it’s worth the surprise in Jim and Agnes’ eyes.
I lower my gaze at them, pointing from me to them, not entirely sure what I’m communicating. But Jim locks his jaw and throws up a couple of fingers to point between my eyes and his.
He’s watching me.
Well, I’m watching him.
Amber takes her spot closer to the net, and I hold up the lightweight ball, raising my paddle with the other hand.
I hit the ball hard, and it soars over Amber’s head to the other side of the net like a gazelle leaping over a wall.
Destroy them.
“THEY DESTROYED US.” Amber swivels her head to look at me.
I’m leaning forward while sitting, head in my hands. The end of that game did not go as planned. Apparently, Jim had another setting he unlocked, and Agnes was hiding the fact her new knees were better than the old ones.
“We’ll get them next time.”
“Next time?” Amber says with a high-pitched tone.
I sit back on the bench, leaning against the glass wall like she is. Her arms are crossed, brows bent in a harsh angle—down, not up. “You heard them.” I gesture toward the now-empty court. Nearly everyone in the gym flanked the sidelines while watching us a half hour ago. “They want to play us again.”
Amber kicks her volume up a notch. “Yeah, so they can murder us!”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I say, blowing her off.
It definitely was.
And while I'm bummed about our loss, I know I did my best. I'm proud, even, maybe a little happy because I really enjoyed myself.
She scoffs and huffs like she’s out of words but not feelings.
Maybe things would have gone differently if I’d practiced more, watched more game plan strategies, or had a partner who didn’t need to lay down in the middle of a serve. But no, we were thoroughly beaten, and it only gives me more steam to do better next time.
My phone rings with a video call, and the photo Paige sent me last night lights up the screen.
She should be at the Bozeman Hot Springs campground after her one-night stays in Wallace and then Missoula, which was completely soaked by rain, according to my weather app. But the photo of her with trees taller than her and mountains taller than them in the background indicated she was doing just fine.
Better than fine.
Beautiful , breathtaking, and so full of life.
I made the picture my phone’s wallpaper, and her contact photo, so I could stare at it anytime I wanted.
Amber chugs more of her water, and with the echoed silence of this court, I answer with, “Happy almost birthday!"
“Hi! Rhodes!”
I’ve stopped actively sweating since the game ended, but I’m sure I still look like it took a toll on me. It's nothing like her.
She isn’t exactly in a position I expected to see her in on a Saturday morning. The slim straps of her orange bikini tie around her neck, the triangles covering her acting like cautionary arrows. I shouldn’t stare, but I do.
“Paige,” I say. The ache in my chest starts to pound, and the blood circulating through my body is now directed to one place. I use the towel to drape over my lap. “How are you?”
“I made it to the hot springs!” she says. “It’s so nice here. I pulled in and came directly here to soak. I’m basically a prune now.” She lifts one hand to the screen to show me the ripples on her fingers.
“I see that.” Is it just me, or do I sound like a robot?
“What is wrong with you? She’s in a bikini, not lingerie,” Amber says, snatching the phone.
“Paige, hi, happy almost birthday. And yeah, we lost our game, Rhodes thinks you're hot, and based on the suspicious placement of his towel, I’m guessing he’s going to be thinking about this image all night.”
Paige laughs while I glare at Amber with a look that could split a hair in half with my mind. She doesn’t seem to care one iota.
I snatch my phone back, glaring at her until I’m looking at Paige again. My expression melts into one of total adoration. She is hot. And I want nothing more than to tell her that right now.
“I’m sorry you guys lost,” she says, propping her phone against something in order to redo her hair.
It rests just above her shoulders when down, but she gathers it all into a small ponytail with flyaways and pieces still hanging at the nape of her neck. All I can focus on is how her bicep muscles contract while raised above her head. The lift of her breasts in that perfect swimsuit made just for her, like a second skin that isn’t even necessary.
“You’re perfect,” I find myself thinking.
Actually, I don’t just think it.
I must have said it out loud because Amber’s cruel snickering in the background clues me in.
I close my mouth, though it doesn’t seem like she heard me, as Paige dips below the water to wet her shoulders before standing to her full height. She might be short, but the angle…
I turn to Amber and whisper, “You need to leave.”
She laughs. “Not a chance. My legs don’t work anymore, remember?”
“Fine,” I say, standing and grabbing my few items while clutching the small towel to my groin. “I’ll leave.” Directing my attention back to Paige, I tell her, “Hold on, I’m heading to the locker room.”
“Bye, Amber! I’ll call you later,” Paige yells.
“Call me and tell me your plans to celebrate!” Amber calls back. “And check your email to find your present.”
I tip my chin at Amber in goodbye and push through the glass double doors before quickly making my way down the carpeted hallway toward the locker rooms. I’m inside, dumping my things and scanning for others. No one else is here right now, which I can thank Jim and Agnes for—something I never thought I’d say—since they are probably off celebrating their win.
“You still there?”
She smiles and splashes water on her chest. “Yup.”
I nod about a thousand times, drooling over this woman, but I can’t seem to stop myself like I did the other night on our call. I’m no longer the strong one. Maybe it’s because my defenses are down, and I was caught off guard by Paige in her swimsuit when I called. Regardless, I’ve completely thrown out my resolve to give her space.
“I’m sorry you lost,” she says.
I’ve already forgotten our game, too focused on what’s in front of me. “We’ll get our chance,” I tell her.
“Ooo, is this competitive Rhodes 2.0?”
“Maybe,” I say with a knowing smirk.
“I like it.” She grins.
“I like you.”
She laughs. “Do you feel better getting that cheesy line out?”
“Much.” I laugh, too. I should apologize for saying something, but my lips are loose, heart splayed open. “I’ve missed talking to you today. Looks like you made it safely. What’s Bozeman like?”
“Beautiful.” Her tone is wistful as she says this. “It’s a valley, so there are quite literally mountains in every direction I look. I can’t wait to see how Yellowstone compares tomorrow. And I’ve basically been listening to the same song on repeat. It just feels right and captures what it’s like to be here.”
“Which song?”
“‘Get Lost in Montana’ by Owl City,” she replies, then flips her camera to give me a quick view of a strip of mountains in the distance that stretches the expanse of blue in the sky.
When she turns the camera back to her, my favorite view, there are so many words I want to say to her, so many questions and conversations we have yet to explore, but all I can seem to say is, “I miss you.”
She smiles at this. “You said that already.”
I shake my head. “I said I missed talking to you today.”
Her laugh almost does me in, but her words finish me off. “I miss you, too.”
“I wish I was there with you.” I’m helpless. I can’t remember why I don’t tell her these things more often. Why am I holding back again?
Nodding, she leans forward, pushing her phone further back. Her chest presses lightly against the wall, accentuating the tops of her breasts. “What would you do if you were?”
I lick my lips. Even the way she asks this is sexy.
There are so many things I could say. I’d stand behind her with my hands circling her waist, kissing her shoulder or the top of her head. I’d play with the ties of her swimsuit and trace the planes of her stomach with my fingers. I’d press her back against the wall and circle her legs around my waist, showing her exactly how much she turns me on.
But I don’t get the chance to say any of that because another guy walks into the locker room, smiling at me in acknowledgment. I nod and then look back at my phone, recognition lighting on her face as well.
We can’t have this conversation—not here or now—but I need her to know we’re coming back to this one. I’m not ready to abandon it.
“I’m going to shower and head home. Can I call you back when I get there? Maybe fifteen minutes?”
She smiles and rests her chin on her folded arms. “Okay.”
I comb through my hair. “Will you still be there?”
Please say yes.
“Depends on if your fifteen minutes turns into more,” she says. “I’m already starting to sweat in here.”
“Give me ten,” I say.
She laughs. “Eager much?”
There’s a good reason I should hide how I feel, but it escapes me when she’s looking at me like this, and I’m feeling some sort of way. So, I look her dead in the eyes and say, “You have no idea.”