Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wyatt
Ivy and I dance for the rest of the night, but nothing quite matches the way we moved together during that one slow song.
I probably shouldn’t have pulled her into my arms, but it happened before I even realized what I was doing.
And once she was there, once I felt how right it was to hold her, there was no way I was letting go until the music stopped.
I never dance. Ever. But with her, I already want to do it again.
Being with Ivy makes me wish time would slow down. I’ve had a great night, like I always do when I’m with her. We’ve talked, laughed, and had moments that feel too good to be pretend, even though that’s exactly what they are.
When we get back to my place, I hold her close in the elevator like I have before, though she’s calmer tonight. Probably the vodka taking the edge off. As I unlock the front door, I glance over to see her already slipping off her heels and picking them up with a sigh.
“God, that’s better. My feet are killing me.” She drops them in the entryway and pads barefoot across the apartment toward the kitchen. “Mind if I grab a water?” she asks, tossing a look over her shoulder.
“Help yourself,” I say, my eyes grazing over her exposed back.
“I’m wide awake now,” she says, cracking open a bottle and taking a long sip. “Wanna watch a movie?”
I smile, hoping that means she’s not ready for the night to end either. “Sure. I’ll go and change.”
“Me too,” she says, leaving her bottle on the counter.
We head toward the bedrooms together, and just before she disappears into hers, I reach out and lightly touch her arm.
“Wait a sec. I’ve got something for you.”
Her brows lift in surprise as I open the door to my room and wave her in. “Something else?” she asks curiously.
I nod and duck into the walk-in closet. After rummaging through a drawer, I pull out one of my jerseys and return to her.
“One of my game jerseys, just like you asked.”
Her face lights up as she takes it from me, unfolding it with a grin.
“I thought you forgot.”
“Ha! As if I could. You’ve only reminded me like ten times.”
She laughs, then steps closer and rises onto her toes to kiss my cheek. “Thank you. For this and everything.” Her fingers brush the diamond at her throat, and my eyes follow the motion. “Today was perfect.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
“I really have had the best time,” she whispers, holding my gaze. After a moment, she starts backing toward the door. “I’ll go get changed.”
I nod, watching her until she turns and closes the door behind her. The second she’s gone, I groan and fall face-first onto the bed. I had every excuse to touch her tonight, to keep her close. But now we’re back here, there’s no crowd, no more pretending and no more touching.
I’m going to have to sit on my damn hands.
I’m already stretched out on the living room sofa when she appears beside me, and the second I glance her way, my mouth goes dry.
She’s wearing the jersey I just gave her, and nothing else from what I can tell.
It hits her mid-thigh, the oversized fabric skimming over her curves.
My gaze flicks from the bold number on her chest down to her long, toned legs, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
I’ve never seen my number on anyone who mattered, at least, not like this.
Ash wears it, but she’s family. It’s not the same.
But Ivy? My feelings for her are becoming something I don’t fully understand, but I feel it in my chest every time she’s within arm’s reach.
And right now, with her standing in my jersey like that, it’s taking everything I’ve got not to pull her into my arms.
She lifts her arms and spins in a slow circle, and my heart slams against my ribs when I catch sight of my name stretched across her back. Seeing my name and number on her feels like too much, but in the best possible way. She flashes a grin, completely unaware of the effect she’s having on me.
“Thought I’d see if Ash was right about it being the comfiest shirt ever,” she teases.
“And?” I manage.
She nods, eyes twinkling. “Definitely. I think this just became my new favorite,” she says with a wink. “Might even need two. One to wear, one for laundry day.”
I take a steadying breath. “You’re trouble,” I say, reaching for her hand and tugging her down beside me. “Now, park that cute ass right here so we can pick a movie.”
I need her sitting down and out of view before I lose all control and find out exactly how good that jersey looks crumpled on my bedroom floor.
She looks a little surprised when I tug her down beside me. Maybe it was the “cute ass” comment, or maybe just the closeness. Either way, I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t dare meet her gaze. If I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a lid on the mess of feelings storming through me.
“What do you want to watch?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even and ignore the electricity crackling between us.
“I don’t mind,” she says. “You pick.”
I nod and find an action film. Probably not her top pick, but I can’t handle anything romantic right now, not with the way I’m feeling.
We sit in silence as the movie plays. Twenty minutes pass, and still neither of us says a word.
“Should I change?” Ivy asks suddenly, her voice tentative. “You’ve been acting kind of weird since I came out in the jersey. Maybe I should’ve waited to wear it at home.”
She starts to rise, but I instinctively reach out and catch her hand.
“No, don’t,” I say quietly. I sigh, dragging my free hand through my hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to act weird. It’s just… I’ve never had someone wear my jersey before.” I pause, shaking my head. “I know that probably sounds ridiculous.”
She frowns, confused. “But Ash wears your jersey.”
“Ash is my sister. That’s not even close to the same thing.”
She pauses, clearly not sure whether to stay or go. Her fingers are in mine, but I can see the uncertainty in her face. I keep my grip, gentle but firm. I’m not letting her walk away, not over something like this.
“You wearing my number…” I trail off, shaking my head with a quiet laugh. “It just threw me, that’s all. Wasn’t expecting it to hit me like that.”
Her brow creases, and she studies me like she’s trying to read between the lines. I hold her gaze, doing my best to keep everything buried that I don’t trust myself to say.
“I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” she says, her voice quiet. “I just thought… I don’t know. You said I could have it, and I guess I thought it’d be fun.”
“It is,” I say quickly, cutting her off before she talks herself out of it. “It looks good on you. Really good.”
Her lips curve into a small smile, and she visibly relaxes, slowly sitting down next to me. I don’t let go of her hand until she’s settled.
We’re silent for a beat, just the hum of the TV in the background. I could say something, make a joke or play down what I’ve said, but I don’t, letting the silence hang over us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Eventually, she leans back into the cushions, a little closer than before, her thigh brushing mine.
“I really do like this jersey,” she says, tugging at the hem.
I nod, my eyes fixed on the screen, even though I haven’t followed the plot from the start. “Yeah. Looks better on you than me.”
She laughs quietly, and that sound alone makes the tension in my chest ease just a little.
We turn our attention back to the movie. Well, I pretend to. I keep telling myself to stop glancing at her, but my resolve’s pretty much shot. Subtlety isn’t exactly my strong suit right now, and I’m not sure if she’s noticed. She probably has.
I try to focus my eyes on the screen, but ten minutes later, I glance her way again, and this time, I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
She’s fast asleep.
And now, I really can’t look away. Her face is completely free of makeup with her long, dark lashes resting against her cheeks.
Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and her breathing is slow and even.
There’s something about the way she looks, so at ease and like she fits perfectly here, that makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
Knowing I can’t just sit here all night watching her sleep, as tempting as it is, I slowly rise from the sofa.
With a quiet sigh, I turn off the TV, lock up, and make my way back to where she’s still curled up, completely out.
For a moment, I consider waking her, but she looks so peaceful that I can’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I lean down and scoop her into my arms. She stirs briefly, her head dropping to my shoulder, but she doesn’t wake. The faint scent of her perfume wraps around me, and I hold her a little tighter than I probably should. I take my time crossing the apartment, not in any rush to let her go.
I consider, just for a second, taking her to my bed, just to hold her, nothing more. I’ve never wanted something like that with anyone before. I’ve never felt the urge to share my space or my bed without expecting anything in return. Just being close would be enough.
And somehow, that doesn’t scare me.
If anything, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Pushing open her bedroom door, I walk across the room, and with one hand, pull the comforter back.
I lower her onto the bed and cover her up.
Her dark hair splays out on the crisp white pillow, and my hand reaches out to push a stray piece of hair off her face.
I sigh quietly. She looks so beautiful. It’s almost painful to leave her here and walk out, but I know I have to.
Leaning down, I brush a kiss on her forehead.
“Night, Ivy,” I whisper. “Sleep tight.”
It takes everything in me to turn and leave the room. I close the door softly behind me and head to my own, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to sleep knowing she’s right next door, curled up in my jersey.