Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chase
I stepped up out of the basement gym and wiped sweat off my face and chest with a towel. I thought I heard Ashley's voice before the front door closed.
The sound of Bernice singing came from the kitchen. I didn't recognise the song, but then again I didn't listen to anything older than a year or two.
"Hey." I stepped into the kitchen.
Bernice was chopping and adding ingredients into the slow cooker.
"Good morning. I'm making you soup. Very nutritious. It'll be ready in time for dinner." She flashed me a smile before rapidly dicing carrots with a huge knife.
"I'm hungry for it already," I said. "Did you see a brunette around?"
"Apart from myself?" she asked. "I met Ashley. Nice girl."
"That's her," I said.
"She left." Bernice lifted the cutting board and dumped the carrots into the soup mix.
I sighed. "I figured." That would explain the closing door. "Did she say anything?"
"She said you have her number," Bernice said. "I said I'd make sure you called her. Or texted, or whatever you young people do these days." She waved the knife in the air for a while before putting it back on the bench.
I eyed her. She was as tech savvy as I was. Maybe more. She knew how to program the speakers in the ceiling. I couldn't even figure out how to change it from her choice—Frank Sinatra.
I could ask her, but then I'd come off looking like a dork. I promised myself I'd look up the answer, but I forgot, like I always did.
"I guess I should shoot her a text." I didn't play the game of sleeping with someone and then ignoring them.
Although, I was starting to wonder if what we did was a bad idea.
Ashley wanted Kris back, and as far as I knew, he wanted her.
So they weren't together. Sleeping with her was almost as bad as what Brandi and Kris did.
I slung my towel around my shoulders and picked up my phone.
The screen was full of unread messages from a bunch of people.
Some I recognised, some I didn't. None were from Ashley.
Or Brandi for that matter. I half expected her to reach out to explain the whole Harvey Danbury thing.
I should have known she wouldn't. No way I was going to check her social media.
If he wrote the story and ran it, the number of people following her would go through the roof.
I didn't need to see my private life splashed around for the enjoyment of strangers.
Judging by the fact one of the messages was from the Humpbacks’ publicist, that was exactly what happened.
I swore under my breath and tapped out a quick message to Ashley.
Thanks for last night. Was amazing. Meet for coffee some time?
I had a game tonight. I needed to focus. Being a Friday, I guessed she was working. That explained her hasty exit.
At least, I hoped it did. I had some regrets over how last night could complicate things further, but the thought she left because she was ashamed, or mad at me…
I didn't want that for her. She deserved better than to feel bad because of a spur of the moment thing. That's all it was. All it could ever be. She had a life she wanted to put back together.
As for me, I was the one who should feel bad. I shouldn't have kissed her. I should have listened to what she had to say, then let her leave. I didn't want to hurt her, and I sure as hell didn't want to get hurt. Tangling in her life, and Kris' was a recipe for more of that.
Ashley wanted Kris. As much as that sucked, especially after what he did, that was a stone cold fact. She wanted him, not me. Last night was a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less.
A mind blowing mistake, but still a mistake.
I put my phone down with a thump.
Bernice turned and frowned at me. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I lied. "It's fine. I sent Ashley a text, so you don't have to worry about me not being a gentleman."
"I had no doubt in my mind," she said.
I might have believed her if she hadn't grinned after saying that.
"Right," I said slowly. "I'm going to hit the shower. Don't open the door to anyone you don't know."
If that stupid story ran, people would be lining up to ask for quotes, or take photos of me to splash around everywhere. Ollie was right. This part of playing pro football sucked hard. I signed up to run around the field and catch a ball, not to live in a fish bowl.
"There's a few people I do know, that I shouldn't open the door for," Bernice said. "That Brandi chick for one. The girl before her wasn't much better. Or the one—"
I gave her a look and she closed her mouth with a clicking of teeth.
"Don't let any of them in," I agreed. Ever. I shouldn't have let any of them into my life. I should get a trophy—King of Making Bad Choices.
Last night was just the most recent. I'd meet up with Ashley and apologise for it. I owed her that much. I'd apologise and then I would never see her again.
As I dropped my towel on the floor and stepped under the hot water, I realised there was one problem with that. One big problem.
Last night was incredible. Touching her, being with her…
She was like no one I'd ever slept with before.
It was more than fucking. It felt as if we were in sync with each other.
She somehow knew what I liked, and she seemed to enjoy what I did to her.
Her moans, which still echoed in my ears, sounded like a symphony.
The smell of her, her taste, were lodged in my memory like they were tattooed there.
The scratches on my back which stung under the water also served as a reminder of her.
I smiled to myself. She seemed so sweet, most of the time.
Last night, she was anything but sweet. She was wild in ways I hadn't imagined.
I had the feeling she tried things she hadn't done before.
Presumably she hadn't had the right partner to try those things with.
She and I fit together like two lost puzzle pieces.
I rubbed a washer over my face. If I scrubbed hard enough, I might wipe those thoughts away.
Yeah, okay, there wasn't much of a chance of that. Every touch was seared into my memory like a hot brand.
I needed to stop thinking like this, or I'd spend the rest of the day walking around with a boner. That would be embarrassing, especially on the field. I'd get a nickname out of it, for sure. Something like Woody, or Pole. Okay, those weren't so bad, but the guys were bound to come up with worse.
I tossed the washer aside and grabbed the soap. I rubbed it all over myself and imagined what it would be like if Ashley held the soap.
In moments, I had suds on top of suds and aching balls. I turned the heat up on the water a couple of degrees. A cold shower would only heat my blood even further.
I washed my chest and abs, then took extra time on the scratch marks on my shoulders. She really had gotten around. I had a few on my ass as well. She was gentler there, right before she'd—
I rinsed quickly and turned off the water. I had to find something to do for the next couple of hours. Standing here, my thoughts kept returning to her.
I dried and threw on a t-shirt and sweats before heading back downstairs.
Bernice was nowhere to be seen, but my phone was where I left it. I checked the screen.
The first notification I saw was from Ashley. She thanked me for last night, and gave me a time, date and place.
I responded by saying I'd be there, then flopped down on the couch to go through the rest of my messages.
My parents, checking up to see if I was okay. I told them I was fine.
Hawk, to ask the same thing. Same response to him, but with a c u before the game at the end.
Bam with a laughing emoji and the words, For reals dude?
I frowned at that and shrugged before replying with a question mark.
Ollie, also checking up on me.
The publicist telling me to call her, right now.
Several were requests for stories, from reporters whose names I knew in passing. Those were an immediate delete.
That was all. I was half tempted to check social media, or research myself. If people were talking about me, shouldn't I want to know what they were saying? At best, I'd know how to respond.
I exhaled through my nose. As if I'd be allowed to respond. I already knew what the publicist would say. 'Don't say a thing. Talk about football, the season, the weather if people ask. That's it. Full stop.'
If I gave them a tiny little bite, it would turn into a huge chunk, totally out of proportion.
If I swore at them, it could end up on the news at best. At worst, it would follow me for the rest of my career.
We were expected to be role models for kids everywhere.
Most of the time, I didn't mind. Sometimes though, it felt like I was the second or third last person anyone should look up to.
Not the last person, some people were worse than I was. Even I could admit that. As role models went, I really wasn't too bad, but the pressure to look good and act right whenever anyone was watching, chafed worse than badly fitting wraps, or too tight underpants.
Still no message from Brandi. I hadn't expected one.
I should be mad at her, but I felt sorry for her.
It was sad to think of the lengths she thought she had to go to, to get seen.
Was she so down on herself, she needed an audience to perform for?
That she was nothing unless people were watching and pointing, and applauding?
Okay, I could be thinking about myself as well here.
I loved an audience, the bigger the better, but it was about the game.
What recognition she got wasn't about her, it was about me.
That was the saddest thing. She couldn't even be proud of her own achievements, unless she counted seduction. It took two for that to happen.
I put the phone down and headed to the fridge for a drink of water with ice. Even in colder weather, it was my go-to beverage during the day. I could still hear my mother's voice telling me not to chew ice, but I did it anyway.
I chomped down on one and almost slid on a puddle on the floor left—I presume—from when Bernice mopped. I grabbed the counter and stayed on my feet, just barely.
I managed to step back to the phone without killing myself, as it pinged.
Another message from Ashley. A smiley face in response to my last message, and the word, great.
I smiled the same silly smile as the emoji. One word got my heart racing faster than riding my bike on the freeway.
It hit me harder than a seven foot quarterback trying to save a game at the last minute. I wanted to hear the word directly from her lips. I wanted to touch her, taste her, lace my fingers in hers.
"Damn," I said under my breath.
I'd fallen for her. Hard.