19. Calvin
CALVIN
“Can…uh…can I have a word?” I ask, slipping into the trainers’ room after Parker has walked out, leaving Hayden alone.
“Yeah, sure,” he says as he pulls his T-shirt on. “What’s up?”
I roll my lips between my teeth, trying to figure out exactly what I want to ask.
“You guys have got a game tomorrow night.” Great. Brilliant start, Keller.
“Yeah,” Hayden agrees suspiciously, looking confused as fuck. Understandable, seeing as I’m standing here spouting facts.
“Hypothetically speaking,” I start, rubbing the back of my neck as my muscles tighten. “If you weren’t playing and were left behind and had invited someone to watch the game with you—”
“Someone?” he interrupts. “Any particular someone?”
“I…uh…”
“I know you’ve been hanging out with Sienna,” Hayden admits.
“Oh. Right. Yeah. She’s cool, ya know.”
He nods, his lips twitching as if he’s really fighting the smirk that wants to appear.
“Yeah, I know. So, what did you want to talk to me about exactly?”
“I invited a girl to watch the game with me, Monroe. I’m low-key freaking out. I don’t do that shit. Why did I even ask?” Because you want to spend more time with her. And you really want to fucking kiss her.
She wants to; I can see it in her eyes. Her body is screaming for me to make the next move.
But her head…fuck. That’s on an entirely different page.
I swear, both times I’ve got close, there’s been a flicker of fear in them.
I want to know what it is, what puts it there, almost more than I want to discover just how sweet she tastes.
And that’s a problem, because I never, ever want anything more from a woman than the pleasure she can offer me.
“Because you enjoy spending time with her?” Monroe asks, dragging me from my thoughts.
I think of last night. Did I want to spend my evening putting up shelves and sweeping hair from a salon floor?
No, not really. But it was the best evening I’ve had—aside from hanging out at her apartment—recently.
Even if I was walking around practically naked, which, let’s be honest, Sienna enjoyed the fuck out of.
I caught her looking over and over. I won’t lie; it gave my ego a nice little boost.
I thought it was over the moment she caught sight of my tattoo. I didn’t even think about it when I dropped my sweats, but the second she mentioned it, I thought she was going to figure it out. After all, there’s only one reason I have that on my thigh, hiding from the sight of most people.
It’s personal. Private. A memory of a time I don’t want to share with anyone but the girl who was there with me at the time.
We spent hours that summer lying on our backs and watching the stars twinkle in the sky.
I knew fuck all about astronomy before she appeared in my life, but that first night, she started questioning what we were looking at and mentioning different constellations.
She was intrigued, which meant the second I got back to my room, I started researching.
I’m pretty sure I learned more in those two weeks than I did in a year at school.
I was desperate to give her the information she needed, and it was so worth it when I pointed out the Scorpius constellation a few days later, and she squealed in delight.
“Are you watching the game at your place, or going out?”
“I don’t know. This is the problem. I asked without a plan, and now I’m freaking out and need help.”
This time, a laugh slips out of him.
I’m not sure what my face shows, but he quickly schools his reaction and folds his arms over his chest as if he’s getting serious.
“Okay, so let’s break this down. If you invite her to your place, that’s kinda intimate. Letting a girl into your space is a big deal, right?”
“Right,” I agree. I don’t fuck puck bunnies at my place. The risk of them coming back for more and causing our concierges a nightmare is too big. Some bunnies be cray cray, and I really don’t need that in my life.
“She might think you’re after more if you invite her up there.”
I nod, aware that getting too close to Sienna seems to make her as uncomfortable as it does excited.
“So you go out to watch it where you’re surrounded by others, but you might get recognized.”
I nod again, following along with him.
“I don’t want to share her with anyone else, but—”
“Fucking hell. She’s really got to you, hasn’t she?”
Yeah, about fifteen fucking years ago, and apparently nothing has changed.
“Have you already…You know?”
“Fucked her? No.”
“Then you should probably go out.”
“Yeah,” I agree. That’s what my gut is saying, but I really, really just want to stay in and keep her all to myself.
“You should take her to Bills. That place never gets that busy, and he’ll probably let you have the back booth. It has its own screen, so it’ll give you the privacy you want without the pressure of being alone in your apartment.”
My brows pinch. “How are you so good at this?”
He chuckles. “Women aren’t all that hard to figure out, man. You just gotta watch and listen. The movies and books might seem over the top at times, but it’s pretty much what they want.”
“Are you trying to tell me I should bring her flowers?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. You know her better than me.”
“Shit,” I hiss. “But it’s not a date.”
He laughs again. “Are you sure about that?” he asks before pushing from the trainer’s table and walking toward the door. “We good here?”
“Yeah. Are we okay to keep this between us?”
“You got it. You know where to find me if you need any more advice. I’m good for it; I snagged Hailee, after all.”
“And you’re not even slightly smug about it,” I deadpan as he disappears from sight.
The arena is just fucking wrong with everyone on the road. Everything is too quiet. Too eerie. There’s no banter, no whistles, no laughter or groans of pain in the weight room. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m making enough noise to scratch that one off as Darcy puts me through my paces.
“You know, you could be in Florida right now,” I tell him as I rack the weight and let my arms drop to my sides.
“Yep. I could be lying in the sun, hiding behind my shades, watching all the eye candy. But no. I’m here with your sweaty ass.”
“Hey, I’ve got a great ass,” I point out.
“You’re a hockey player; of course you’ve got a great ass,” he teases.
“Thank you.”
Our banter continues as he puts me through my paces, just like he does every day, checking my mobility and improvement before getting me onto his table and letting his fingers do the torturing.
When I leave the arena later that evening, the sun is setting, making the leaves that are still clinging to the trees glow even brighter shades of red and orange.
Fall used to be my favorite season, but then that summer happened, and lazy, humid summer evenings stole the top spot for me.
Every single summer after her visit, I’d head out to our spot and stargaze, pretending she was lying next to me.
I’m so fucking tempted to take her out to a stargazing spot I found when I first moved to LA after the game tonight. But I know if I do, everything will start unraveling. And as much as I want her to know who I really am; at the same time, I’m terrified for her to find out.
I’ve been lying to her since the first moment I saw her in that club earlier in the year.
She’s going to be pissed, I know that. I just hope she’ll understand my reasons.
Hell, I’m not even sure I understand my reasons.
But I’m not ready to confess, yet. The time isn’t right.
But every time I’m with her, I’m getting closer to it needing to happen.
Panic grips me, making each breath harder to drag in as I wait for my rideshare to appear before me. I can’t fucking wait to drive again. Waiting for others to taxi me around is getting old fast.
The second I walk into my apartment, I try to see it through different eyes. Through her eyes.
The only time she’s come up here was to shout at me in the middle of the night. She didn’t so much as step over the threshold. What would she think if she were to come up here? Would she see a bachelor pad, or a home she’d happily hang out in?
It’s not like hers. I don’t have photos of family and friends or little trinkets. It’s functional. The only part of my entire apartment that shows any real sign of life is the magnets on my fridge.
I’ve never before considered what a woman would think about the way I live in my home, but suddenly, I have the desire to go out and get some cushions and a blanket for the couch.
Maybe even some candles to complete the look.
I can see us snuggled up together, having movie nights up here instead of her apartment.
I picture us standing at the windows on a clear night, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars.
It doesn’t happen very often with the light pollution, but every now and then, one is bright enough to shine through.
I see her in my huge tub, nestled between my thighs, both of us covered in bubbles, and of course, as clear as day, I can see her in my bed, wrapped up in my sheets, her hair messy and her cheeks flushed.
“Fuck.” I groan as I stalk through my apartment and into my bedroom. I showered at the arena, but I don’t want to risk still stinking of sweat, so I shed my clothes and step under the hot torrent of water.
Tipping my head into the stream, I can’t help but obsess over that final fantasy. Sienna Wentworth in my bed. She’s the only woman I’ve ever met who has a place in it. The only woman I’ve ever wanted to fall asleep holding and wake up the next morning with her still there in my arms.
Fuck. I’ve got a problem.
And the image in my head isn’t the only one, because I’m now hard as fuck.
I groan as I wrap my fingers around my shaft and squeeze gently, punishing myself before I begin stroking. My head is firmly on her as I work myself over, bringing myself to a fast but unsatisfying release.
My hand isn’t doing it for me these days. Sure, it takes the edge off, but that’s about it.
Usually, I’d have my choice of women to help scratch my itch.
But while they might all still be out there, the thought of getting up close and personal with any of them, no matter how hot they are, just doesn’t appeal.
There’s only one woman my body wants, and I don’t think it’s going to give up on her anytime soon.
When I get out of the shower, I find my cell lit up on my bed, and I’d be lying if I said my dick didn’t jerk behind the towel wrapped around my waist at the sight of her name.
Sienna: Are we still watching the game tonight? You’ve been suspiciously quiet.