Chapter 6
CALLUM
Slinging my bag over one shoulder, I step out of my air-conditioned gym right into the sweltering midday heat. With the California sun beating down upon me, I jog to my go-to café, eager for my post workout snack.
The team is heading to Nashville in twenty-four hours and is slated to travel all week long.
Between training, games, and PR events, we all need a rest day and I’m determined to enjoy mine.
Burning out early in the season is not an option, especially when you’re a first liner with a contract clocking in at eight figures per year.
The bell over the door chimes loudly as I enter, and I heave a sigh of relief as cold air envelops me. My Canadian blood rejects high temperatures in October.
I stand in line, checking my phone for new messages. As usual, Novak is blowing up the team group chat.
ZambrOnies
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
Team. My bros. Enigmaaaaaa
after the game
I’ll book us a spot
that club is full of HOT Nashville chicks
Mateo:
You say that about every city we’re in.
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
every city has hot chicks, Cap!
Rohan:
I’m going to be busy.
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
dat’s the spirit
Moores gonna be partying with me brOS
Rookie:
I don’t know how to dance…
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up
get a couple drinks in youKubanski
you’ll be fine
Me:
I’ll come
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
with hot girls grinding against you?
yeah… just try to last for one whole song buddy
Me:
Fuck you
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
you wish you could have my ass
Rookie:
I feel uncomfortable
Me:
Flirting is his love language
Rohan:
Why am I in this chat?
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
Aww :( come on Yogi Bear
Need some attention from Daddy?
*Rohan has left the chat*
*Mateo has added Rohan to the chat*
Mateo:
If I have to be here, so do you.
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
Everyone needs to come to Enigma.
It’s my birthdaaaaaay.
Me:
It was your birthday last month when you trapped us all in that escape room too
Rookie:
You told me everyone forgot your birthday and forced me to buy you lunch last week
because you were sad!
Mateo:
You fell for that? He does that a few times a year.
Rookie:
WTF?
Mateo:
You’ll get used to it.
Rookie:
So… it wasn’t his birthday?
Me:
No one knows at this point
Theo-who-won’t-shut-up:
I’m SPECIIALLLLL
DON’t bee HATTTEEEERSSS
Rohan:
Again. Why am I here?
By the time I approach the employee behind the counter and place my order Theo has whined long enough to convince everyone to go clubbing. Moore, as usual, is grudgingly participating.
Inevitably, thinking about Moore reminds me of Alia.
My stomach gurgles and I write it off as hunger instead of apprehension. I have no idea what her opinion of me is anymore. She was obviously upset. Though I hadn’t lied, something tells me she won’t care about the semantics.
I pay the woman behind the till and head to the covered patio with my protein bowl.
It’s a small café, filled with a crowd from the sports club down the street.
As I approach my usual spot, I stop in my tracks, curbing the urge to rub my eyes and gawk like a cartoon.
I must be hallucinating, because right there, at my favorite table, is Alia.
The sun shines upon her through the window, picking up streaks of brown in her hair. She looks angelic, like a cosmic temptation—or a big ‘fuck you’ to my blue balls.
There are some rules I never break. No hooking up with women related to anyone on the team. No one married or claiming to be ‘on a break’. And absolutely no sex without protection.
The night we met, I mentally stripped Alia down, imagining her doing filthy things. I don’t know where to go buy enough brain bleach to remove those images, because they’re still there.
If our first meeting had ended the way I wanted it to, I’d have broken the cardinal rule of thou shalt not stick thine dick in thy teammate’s sister. Or cousin. Same difference. Especially when said teammate is a man fully capable of making me spit Chiclets without breaking a sweat.
My feet move and I force myself to stop, my entire being torn between opposite directions.
She is Rohan’s cousin. I should leave.
Her hands lift up to gather her hair and sweep it over one shoulder, her profile even clearer now.
She glances at the open book in front of her, running her fingers so delicately over the pages I feel a phantom brush down my arm.
My body goes awash in goosebumps and my cock twitches beneath my sweatpants. Crap.
I’m still fighting my curiosity when she sighs. It is voiceless, but I see it in the way her chest rises and falls. Sitting in that corner, hunched over her book, her salad untouched, she looks so lonely.
I don’t realize I’ve moved until I’m standing a foot away from her.
“Mind if I join you?”
Startled, she glances up, recognition sparking instantly.
“You.” She cocks her head, brows twisting into a small frown. I pull out the chair across from her and, when I hear no arguments, I sit down.
“Why are you here?” she asks.
“This is my post-workout spot. I’m a regular.”
“So am I,” she counters, tipping her head pointedly at the food in front of her.
I lean back, resting my hands atop the table. The silence between us is heavy, but I refuse to move. If she wants me gone, she needs to say the words.
She glances around, possibly checking for other empty tables before settling her gaze on me. There they are again, those clear eyes that don’t hide much. I can read the accusation in them.
“Spit it out.”
“What should I call you today? Mr. Novak, Mr. Finnigan, Spuddy? Or is there something new?”
My mouth curls upward. I appreciate that she isn’t wasting my time by playing dumb.
“Cal is fine. Callum if you’re pissed.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across her lips, gone in an instant. I want to see it again.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you really were? You knew I mistook you for someone else and you took advantage of that.”
I shrug. “I liked the anonymity. You can imagine I don’t get much of it. I would’ve fessed up if you’d stayed that night.”
“You made me feel foolish.” Her honest admission is as unexpected as it is refreshing. The only people who call me out on my shit are family or the guys. That Alia did it so gently only makes the guilt sink in deeper.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. Promise.”
She nods, no longer angry but not entirely friendly either. This girl is keeping me guessing and—fuck me—I kinda like it.
“Can I buy you an apology coffee?” I hope she agrees. I want more time with her. To figure her out—to find some closure to this curiosity perhaps.
“No, thank you.” Disappointment sweeps through me ’til her eyes lock with mine. “But a mango smoothie might do the trick.”
The huff of laughter that escapes me is laced with relief.
By the time I return with a smoothie in each hand, I’m no longer unsure about sitting at her table.
While I dig into my food, Alia alternates between her book, staring out the window, and picking pumpkin seeds out of her salad before taking a bite.
“You’re a lot quieter than you were the night we met. Do I need to get alcohol in your system to hear your voice again?”
That finally gets her shoulders to relax, a small smile gracing her face. There’s something about this girl I can’t pinpoint. She’d been a little shy at Block on Wood, but both times I’ve seen her since, she’s almost. . . reclusive.
I want to talk to the woman who made funny potato jokes. Who flushed pink when I flirted with her. Where did she go?
“So, you’re from India?” I prod.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I had a tough time figuring out your accent the night we met. It only comes out occasionally.”
She spears her lettuce with the edge of her fork, waving it. “Could’ve asked me.”
“Didn’t want to be rude.”
She nods, silent again. Good thing I’m tenacious.
“So, tell me. Did you always speak in a mixed accent, or was this a choice?”
“I’ve lived here for a couple years. Guess I got good at faking my accent to try and fit in.” She sniffs, muttering under her breath. “Wasn’t the only thing I got good at faking.”
My ears perk up as I try to make sense of that comment. She’s oblivious I’ve heard her because her eyes are fixed firmly on something outside the window.
“What brought you here, so far away from home? School? Work?”
Her attention shifts to me and she hesitates, her lower lip curling in as white teeth bite down on supple flesh. Christ, she needs to stop doing that. My semi-boner threatens to rise when her lashes lift to hold my gaze.
“I was living here with my husband.”
My boner dies a swift death and my expression is frozen. Did I say I liked Alia surprising me? I’m a fool.
“Ex-husband,” she corrects. “I’m newly divorced.” Instantly, the sun is shining again. I exhale, my body sagging from that half second of stress.
“I’m—” What should I say? Thank you? “Sorry.”
Her mouth tips up on one end at my woefully terrible attempt to console her.
“You’re quite convincing,” she teases and I grin in response.
“Do you come to this café often? I’ve never seen you here before.”
“I work part-time at the pet shelter nearby, so I drop by for lunch often. We must’ve missed each other.”
“Possibly.” I sip my smoothie and she does the same. “How was work?”
“They didn’t need me. And, while my cousin’s apartment is nice, I was getting tired of staring at the walls. Figured I’d stick around here for a bit longer.”
“You live with Rohan? Or Ish?”
“Irsia. How do you know her?”
“We’ve met during team events with family.”
She inhales sharply, her eyes sliding over my shoulder before slipping back to me.
“Wh—”
“Nothing. Sorry. I thought I saw something.”
Despite her valiant efforts not to, her gaze flickers once more. As I turn, I hear her protest.
“Callum? There’s nothing there. You don’t have to—”
I scan the surroundings, finally spotting a group of teen girls running on the green space across the street. One of them lets a small brown ball fly into the air toward another holding a bat. I recognize the sport even if I don’t know much about it.
“Is this why you’re here?” I ask, turning back to an oddly guilty-looking woman. “To watch them play cricket?”
She looks like the idea of admitting this is as appealing as participating in the Polar Plunge. I don’t relent. “Tots?”
“Yes,” she replies defensively. “There’s a cricket club that plays here and I like to watch. Sometimes.”
“Don’t you play, too?”
“Used to.”
“You could always ask if they need another member.”
The ghost of an inexplicable sadness in her eyes leaves me wondering what I said to cause it. She graces me with a tiny smile that curls around my heart and squeezes hard.
“Maybe some other day. I should get going. It was nice to see you again, Callum.”
She snaps her book shut and gathers her belongings before I can figure out what I’ve done wrong. I trail after her, squinting as the bright daylight assails my vision.
“Wait, I—let me drive you home.”
“It’s ok. I can take the bus.”
She pulls out her phone, halting when I place my hand over the screen.
“I live ten minutes away from Irsia. It’s no trouble.”
She looks like she’s going to argue again, but sighs instead, following me to my parked car. The ride is oddly quiet, the short period of camaraderie from the café having ended abruptly. Alia remains lost in her thoughts, and I get the sense any interruption would be unwelcome.
When we get to the parking lot of her apartment building, she disembarks without waiting. I hop out to join her.
“Oh,” she exclaims, swinging her bag across her body such that the strap presses into the valley between her breasts. “You don’t have to walk me to the door.”
“Humor me.” I let her lead, matching her step for step as we approach the main entrance. The lobby beyond the glass doors is empty, a guard seated right outside.
“Thank you. Again.”
She reaches for the door and I blurt out, “Give me your number.”
She stops, blinking questioningly at me. “Why?”
“Because, as much as I’d like to rely on telepathy, texting each other would be easier.”
“T-texting?”
My brain races, trying to formulate a reason.
“How else will I send you a list of more good things that start with D?”
The throwback makes her lips tip up. With a roll of her eyes, she accepts my phone and punches her number in. I fight the urge to look over her shoulder, waiting until she’s done.
Alia Joshi. She entered her full name. So proper, so fucking cute. I shift her details into another field and change her contact to her nickname instead.
I press the call button, holding my screen up just as her phone rings in response.
“Really? Tater Tots?” she laughs, waving her phone at me. “Maybe I should save your name as Not Novak?”
“If it is anything other than ‘Handsome Hockey Player Not Novak’, I’ll be deeply disappointed.”
Twin pink spots appear on her cheeks, the shadows that had shrouded her during the car ride slowly lifting. I like making this woman blush, I realize with a jolt.
“I’ll see you around, Tots.” I wave, walking backward, one hand in my pocket. With a light shake of her head, her tiny smile intact, she turns and disappears down the lobby, leaving me wishing for another glimpse.
Alia fuckin’ Joshi. I’m glad I could clear the air with at least one of the two people I’ve been thinking about. Hopefully, Moore is just as easy—because he certainly isn’t as beautiful.