Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SILAS
Should I light a candle?
That seems like I’m trying too hard.
But what if it smells weird in here?
I don’t want her first impression of my place to be associated with an odd smell.
I stare at the beeswax mahogany teakwood candle on my living room coffee table. It smells really good. It could make a great first impression, even if it screams trying too hard.
“Fuck it,” I mutter as I pick up the candle as well as the lighter in the wood box I keep it in and light the stupid candle.
Once I put the lighter away, I lift my arm and check that I put deodorant on after my shower.
Yup, smells good.
Hands on my hips, I look around my place, seeing if I can do anything else to get it ready.
As usual, everything is in its proper place.
So why the fuck do I feel so nervous?
This is stupid.
I don’t even like the girl. I don’t know her, so I shouldn’t be nervous.
But something about inviting someone into your personal space exposes you in a different way. I feel vulnerable when I shouldn’t. Compared to her dorm room, I truly believe her mind will be blown when she sees my penthouse apartment.
For the seventh time in the past hour, I fluff my throw pillows just as there is a knock on my door.
I glance at the clock.
Fuck, she’s early.
I walk over to the entryway and catch a glimpse of my T-shirt and jeans in the mirror and wonder if I should have opted for sweats. Doesn’t matter now.
I grip the handle to the door, take a deep breath, and open it.
“There he is, our man,” Pacey says, charging through the door, followed by Hornsby, Holmes, and Posey.
Shit.
What the hell are they doing here?
That’s when I notice the pizza and beer in their hands.
“Uh, what are you doing?” I ask while shutting the door.
“What does it look like?” Hornsby says while kicking his shoes off and taking a seat on my couch. “Keeping you company.” He glances around. “Man, it looks good in here.”
“I don’t need you to keep me company,” I say as panic sets in. Ollie will be here any moment, and the last thing I want, before Ollie and I can even figure out our story, is my boys meeting her and questioning everything about our relationship.
“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Pacey says while flipping open the pizza box, the sausage and onions ruining any improvement the candle had made in my space.
“You act like everything is okay, but when you left practice today, you bolted. And you haven’t really talked to us at all in the last few days.
You’re retreating because of Sarah, and we’re here to make sure you’re okay. ”
I’m not retreating.
I don’t give a fuck about Sarah—sort of.
And the last thing I want is company.
“And we brought pizza, so that’s fun,” Posey says as he grabs a slice and takes a huge bite. Through a full mouth, he moans, “Fuck, that’s good.”
“Doesn’t his place look nice?” Holmes asks. “These pillows are perfectly fluffed as if you’re trying to impress someone.”
“Are you?” Posey asks.
“No,” I say quickly.
“Don’t you think the pillows look nice?” Hornsby asks, harping on the goddamn pillows a touch too much.
“I think they look great,” Pacey says, clearly trying to be the super positive one. “Best pillows I’ve ever seen.”
“Where did you get them?” Posey asks. “Target?”
“Target?” Hornsby scoffs. “These are West Elm quality.”
“Target has great quality pillows, you jackass,” Posey replies.
“I don’t think we’re here to talk about the pillows, remember?” Pacey says, giving them both looks.
“Oh . . . right,” Hornsby says. “Uh . . . how’s life?”
Jesus Christ. I pinch my brow, irritated that I must deal with this.
“You okay?” Holmes asks, the more levelheaded and quieter one of the group.
“I’m fine. I actually—”
Knock. Knock.
The guys all pause, and with confused looks in their eyes, they glance over at the door.
Shit.
Using his finger, Posey counts us, making sure we’re all here. Hornsby sits taller, staring at the door as if he has X-ray vision, and Pacey fluffs the pillow next to him while whispering, “Who’s that?”
“Uh . . .” I say, unsure of how to respond. They all turn to me, looking for an answer, and I don’t know what to say. Their stares and confused expressions shift to anger, which causes my back to break out in sweat.
“If you tell me that’s Sarah, I’m going to have a fucking conniption,” Hornsby says.
“Oh shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Posey says. “Tates, that can’t be Sarah.”
“Dude, is it Sarah?” Pacey asks, his fist clenching at his side.
“No,” I answer, exasperated.
“Then answer it,” Hornsby challenges.
“No need. I can,” Pacey says, moving right past me and toward the door.
“Wait,” I call out, but it’s too late. He opens the door, revealing Ollie standing on the other side. Long brown hair tied up into a tight pony on the top of her head, she has minimal makeup on her face and is sporting a pair of leggings and a plain black V-neck T-shirt.
“Oh, is this the wrong apartment?” she asks, looking confused.
“Who are you looking for?” Pacey asks.
“Me,” I call out, knowing there’s no use telling her to run for her life. “Let her in, Pacey.”
A collective quiet hangs over the room as Pacey moves to the side and Ollie steps into my apartment, her hands clutching the thin straps of her mini backpack.
“Uh . . . hi,” she says with a cute wave. “I didn’t think you would, uh, have company.”
“I wasn’t expecting them as well.”
Looking more confused than ever, Pacey says, “Who’s this?”
Well, this is what I wanted, right? To tell my boys that I’m seeing someone so they don’t assume I’m lonely and barge into my apartment with pizza and beer. Or fret over me getting back together with Sarah. This is the moment . . .
So I guess here goes nothing.
“This is Ollie,” I answer. “My, uh . . . my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Posey croaks, choking on his pizza.
“You have a girlfriend?” Pacey asks, brows pulled together. “How come you’ve never told us about her?”
“Yeah, what the fuck, man?” Hornsby adds. “You’ve just been hiding her from us?”
I pull on the back of my neck, trying to gather my patience. “We, uh . . . we wanted to make sure we were committed before going public.”
Ollie awkwardly smiles and then waves. “Hey, I’m Ollie, nice to weirdly meet you all.”
Finding his manners, Pacey lends his hand out to her and says, “Hi. I’m Pacey. The guy with the pizza is Levi Posey. The one on the couch is Eli Hornsby. And the shy one over there in the corner, that’s Halsey Holmes.”
“Nice to meet you all.” She rocks on her heels as silence falls between us all. This is so fucking uncomfortable. “Do you want me to wait out in the hallway until you’re done?”
“No,” I say quickly. “They were all just leaving.”
“Wait, I didn’t even get to crack my beer open yet,” Posey says.
“You’re leaving.”
“Now that Ollie’s here, I really want to stay,” Hornsby says.
Yeah, over my dead body.
“Leave. Now. Before I physically remove you myself.”
“I think he’s being serious,” Posey says while looking among the boys and me. “I think he wants us to leave.”
“I think he does,” Hornsby says. “That’s fucking rude.”
“Come on,” Holmes says while picking up the pizza and the beer.
“Are we really just going to let him slide by with this new information?” Hornsby asks, the ever-present questioner in the group.
“We can talk about it later,” Pacey says, eyeing me.
“What about the pizza?” Posey asks while standing.
Glad to see where his priorities are at.
“We’ll finish it at my place,” Holmes says. “Come on.”
Thank God for him. Collectively, they shuffle out the door, all saying bye to Ollie. Pacey is the last one out, and when he turns to me, he has a very serious look on his face as he says, “You will be explaining this tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” I say right before shutting the door on him.
Jesus, they treat me like an absolute child. There will be explaining, though I owe them nothing. Although I know they’re going to harass me until I do explain, so . . . something to look forward to.
Slightly embarrassed, I turn toward Ollie and push my hand through my hair. “Sorry about that.”
“Why are you apologizing? That was a lot of fun.”
“For you,” I say. “Not really the way I wanted to greet you into my home.”
“I don’t know. It had some pizzazz that I wasn’t expecting.” She kicks her shoes off at the door and takes her backpack off, which she sets down next to her shoes. “Wow, your view is incredible.”
“Thanks,” I say, grateful she’s so easygoing. And clearly not a hockey fan. When was the last time a college student had been among my teammates and not swooned with a thousand oh my Gods spilling from their lips? Ah, that would be never. Until Ollie. So weird.
“Is your place always this clean? Or is this all for me?”
“Usually this clean, especially during the season when I’m not here that much.”
“Hmm, fake dating an older man does have its pluses. Nice, fancy apartment with a gym, clean, smells good.” She turns toward me. “It’s a real step up from what I’m used to when it comes to men.”
“Men . . . or boys?”
“Good point.” She moves over to my couch and sits cross-legged. “So what’s for dinner? That pizza smelled good. Should have asked them to leave it.”
“I can order some. I wasn’t really sure what you would want.”
“Pizza now.”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I sit on the couch as well and pull up my delivery app. “Do you want just pizza, or do you want a salad too?”
“Salad would be amazing. Italian dressing, please.”
“Got it.” I finish putting the order in, then set my phone on the coffee table before turning to face her.
She turns toward me as well and smiles brightly. “So . . . those are your teammates?”
“Yeah. They’re evasive as fuck.”
“I don’t know about that. They seemed like a good time,” she says with a cute smile.
“Not when they’re up my ass.”
“Why were they here? Seemed like they were planning a guys’ night.”
“They were here because they thought I was depressed and needed some cheering up.”
“Are you depressed?” she asks.