Chapter 33 Parker
PARKER
Iblink. Surely there aren’t a bunch of hockey players in front of me playing on a dance mat.
I have to be dreaming.
“Oh, yes, motherfucker. Get in,” Linc roars, and when I rip my eyes from where he and Fletch stand side by side on matching mats, I find that the TV screen is declaring him the winner.
“Fuck’s sake,” Fletch mutters as he collapses on the couch, his chest heaving and his face flushed while Linc cracks out the robot as a celebration dance. But when he spins around and his eyes land on me, he pauses, letting his arms drop to the side.
“Hey, are you coming to join us?”
“Do I want to watch the six of you battle on dance mats? Hell yes. I’m gonna film the fuck out of it and send it to Brooke. It’ll be viral in seconds.”
Linc’s face lights up at my agreement, but Handsy doesn’t sound so thrilled as he barks, “Oh no, you can’t do that.”
“Yesss, they’ll all know that I wiped the floor with Calvin Keller,” Monroe announces happily.
“It was just a warm-up round,” Killer mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and doing a very good job of mimicking a sulking toddler.
“Sure it was,” Monroe says, patting Killer’s head patronizingly and making me snort a laugh.
“Grab a drink, Parker. The fun is only just getting started.”
Noting that they all have bottles of water, I do the same after dropping my purse on the kitchen island, abandoning my coat and tugging off my boots.
Curling my legs beneath me, I get settled at the opposite end of the couch to where Fletch is now sitting and assess the setup.
“So is this something you guys do regularly or—”
“First time,” Fletch explains.
“My sister shipped these to me. Dared me to play with the guys and send her a video,” Monroe adds.
“She needs an extra big Christmas present for that,” I tell him happily.
“Have you got a league going or—”
“Handsy and Storm have won the first round against Brit and Fletch.”
“Only just,” Fletch mutters.
“Can’t say the same for Brit. Handsy has rhythm,” Killer tells me.
“And I missed it?” I laugh, my eyes finding our grumpy goalie.
“Don’t worry, there is going to be a second round. Handsy vs Storm.”
I bounce in my seat. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Maybe living here isn’t so bad after all.” My eyes find Linc’s across the room. For a moment, he looks sad, but as he registers the teasing in my tone, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.
“Hey,” he mouths, while the others are distracted with bickering over who’s the best dancer. It’s not something I thought I’d ever get to experience.
“You okay?”
He nods. “I am now.”
Warmth floods through my chest, and the muscles that have been pulled tight for the past week begin to loosen. A genuine smile spreads across my mouth, and I duck my head as my cheeks burn, breaking the contact between us.
“Let’s go then, Rook,” Killer taunts, making me wonder what I missed. “You’re not going to beat me for a second time.”
“We’ve created monsters,” Fletch muses.
“Medium again, or are we upping the ante?” Monroe asks, setting up the next round.
“I can’t believe you’re even asking that.” Killer snorts, stretching out his shoulders as if he’s about to go into a strength and conditioning session.
“Your funeral, man,” Monroe mutters as he changes the level to expert and gets into position.
“There’s going to be bloodshed tonight,” Fletch mutters. “And I’m not bailing any of you out when you turn up tomorrow with busted faces.”
Killer and Monroe ignore him as they get into the zone.
I’m ready to watch this battle, excited to see if their ability matches their confidence.
Just before Monroe starts the game, Linc decides to drop onto the couch between me and Fletch.
The second his ass hits the cushion, a rush of his scent hits me, and I’m instantly thrown back to that night a week ago.
My eyes lock on the side of his face as he gets settled, and despite knowing that I should look away, I can’t.
He’s shaved in the last couple of days; his jaw now covered in short scruff instead of what was turning into a full beard, and his hair could do with a cut, but I can’t help but think what a great length it is to grab onto.
Stop it, Parker.
You’re putting this behind you, remember?
Sensing my attention, he turns to look at me.
“I hope you’re ready to be impressed,” he muses, his smile from earlier still firmly in place as he watches me.
“They can’t really be that good. Are they?”
The music starts, and we both turn to watch and…holy shit, do I have to eat my words?
“What the fuck am I watching?”
“Fuck if I know,” Linc mutters as Killer and Monroe battle it out.
Their eyes are locked on the screen, and their legs. Fuck, they’re a blur.
The points climb higher and higher, but there is never more than a few hundred in it at a time.
“How are they so good?”
“Because they have sisters, apparently.”
“Then why are you so shitty?” I deadpan.
Linc turns back to me while Fletch mutters, “Burn, bro,” behind him.
“It was my first go. Nova isn’t really a dancer.”
“Sounds like an excuse to me,” I tease, turning back to watch the guys in awe. “Have you ever seen The Kissing Booth?”
“Sounds like a chick movie.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then no, I haven’t.”
“I bet they have,” I muse, picturing younger versions of Monroe and Killer with bowls of popcorn, cushions, and blankets, having a movie date with their little sisters. “You missed out.”
“Maybe it’s something we need to fix.”
“Better message Nova then, see if she’s interested in a movie date.”
“Not what I was thinking.”
“Nooooo,” Killer screams before he collapses to the ground, kicking out in frustration. Meanwhile, Monroe silently celebrates another win by holding up his index fingers, proclaiming himself as number one.
“Woot woot. Let’s see your celly dance, Marilyn,” Brit hollers, setting Hayden off on a whole new dance routine.
“I’m never going to live this down,” Killer complains. “My sisters will disown me.”
Hayden stands over him, watching with a smirk.
“Aw, Killer. It’s okay, nothing a little practice won’t fix.”
“Fuck you, Rookie. We’re meant to be better than you at everything.”
“Hate to break it to you, Kill,” Fletch starts, “but Monro—”
“Don’t even start, Cap. He’s second line for a reason.”
“Ohhhh…it’s getting ugly in here,” Linc teases.
“Right, who’s next?” Brit asks, clearly confident it’s not going to be him, seeing as he lost in the first round already.
I shrink back into the couch when all eyes turn on me.
Shit.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so excited to watch this play out.
“Doc, you gonna show us what you got?” Monroe asks.
I look at him before moving to each guy currently looking at me.
“Fine. But I’m not going up against either of you,” I say, pointing between Hayden and Calvin. “And,” I start as I hop to my feet, “I need to go put on a sports bra.”
“Aw, that’s not fun,” Killer complains. “Ow, what was that for?” he grunts, and when I turn around, I find that Handsy has gotten to his feet and smacked him around the head.
“Don’t talk about Parker like that. She’s one of us. You should want to see her tits bouncing around as much as you want to watch my balls.”
“Ew, bro. That isn’t a visual I need.”
“Exactly. Get it together.”
As I turn away to dash to my room, my eyes meet Linc’s.
He holds them for a beat before they drop down my body.
I’m not wearing anything special, just a casual dress over a pair of leggings. But even still, his attention burns a trail from my head to my toes.
I rip myself away before I can think too much more about it and focus on changing into something more sensible for the task at hand.
I pull my dress and leggings off before replacing them with a work pair and one of my most supportive sports bras.
I almost walk out there in just that, but at the last minute, I pull a wide-armed tank from my drawer and throw it over my head as well. I’d hate for Killer to end up with a concussion and be unable to play in our next game.
“Socks off, Donnelly,” Linc states as I return.
“Oh, so it’s just our feet you have an issue with,” Killer sulks.
“There is not a single chance on this Earth that Parker’s feet have ever smelled as bad as yours,” Linc mutters.
“Told you he was a foot man,” Handsy mutters.
“Have you caught him sucking your toes in the middle of the night yet, Parker?” Brit asks with a laugh.
“Fuck off. I don’t do that.”
“Not yet, anyway,” Fletch counters.
“You can stay the hell away from my feet, Storm,” I instruct as I tug my socks off.
“I kinda get your point,” Hayden says, his eyes on my feet. “Parker’s are a hell of a lot prettier than yours.”
“And you all think I’m the foot guy.”
“Okay, enough about feet. Who am I dancing against?”
“Me,” Linc says without missing a beat.
“Bring it on, Storm. I hope you’re ready to lose to a girl, though.”
“Pfft, as if that’ll ever happen. You remember when we used to go up against each other as kids?”
“That was usually on ice or a basketball court. This is different.”
The others look between the two of us as we bicker, probably reminding them that we’ve known each other for a lot longer than we’ve known any of them.
“Are you two done? You’ll run out of energy before you get on the mats if you carry on,” Monroe says.
“We’re good. This is how we communicate,” I say with a smile. I’d be lying if I said that bickering with Linc hasn’t always been one of my favorite things to do.
“Intermediate?” Monroe asks, setting us up.
“Sure,” I agree, although secretly I’d be happier with beginner. Not a chance I’m telling any of these guys that, though.
I might have had some practice, but it’s been years.
Linc and I take our places, and I shoot him a look.
“You’re going down, Storm.”
“I can’t wait, Donnelly.” He winks, and heat surges up my neck, making my face burn red hot.
The countdown begins in front of us, and I forget about our audience and focus.
I have to beat him.
I have to.
The next three minutes are the longest of my life. My chest heaves and sweat trickles down my back, but as the time runs out, it becomes clear that it was worth it.
“Yesss,” I squeal when the screen announces the winner.
“Fuck,” Linc grunts, bending over and resting his hands on his thighs.
“All these years, and I finally beat you at something,” I state smugly.
He glances over, but there’s no annoyance on his face, only pride.
“Well done, Donnelly,” he says, holding his hand out to shake mine.
“Best man won.” The second my palm slides against his, an electric current shoots up my arm.
His eyes widen at the same time, and I can’t help but wonder if he felt it too.
Thankfully, no one around us recognizes it, and they quickly begin planning the next round.
With a tug, Linc pulls me toward the couch and we fall onto it side by side.
“That was fun,” he says through his increased breathing. “I like hanging out with you, Donnelly.”
“Hmm…you’re not too bad either, I guess.”
“Friends?” he asks, turning to look at me.
I smile at him, my heart racing and that fluttering I’m becoming used to taking over my stomach.
“Friends,” I agree.