Chapter 22
Inés
Guilty Pleasure—Chappell Roan
The storm rumbled around us, almost drowning out the sound of the ringing landline. Without hesitation, Chloe marched across
the cozy white-clad living room, still dripping wet, and answered it.
“Yes?” she said, holding the phone in the crook of her neck. Her eyes rolled as she held her hand over the receiver, looking
to me. “Do you want to grab us some towels?”
I nodded, turning as she burst out, “No, I’m going to hide out here from the storm.” Her voice carried easily from the main
room, even when she spoke in hushed tones. “Send them home. It’s only across the street.”
I caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair clung to my face, soaked completely as if I’d stepped into a shower, but my
dark blue dress didn’t reveal anything except curves. While Chloe was busy, I pulled it off, throwing the drenched material
into the shower to deal with later.
I wrapped some towels around my hair and body, quickly looking out into the living room to make sure Chloe was still preoccupied.
“I don’t care what they are saying. We have a deal,” she hissed down the phone, her back to me as she stood beside the large
French doors, the rain still pouring down outside.
Alarm bells went off in my head, but I decided to ignore them, instead heading across to the bedroom. The area was open-plan, divided up by partition walls; whoever had designed the guesthouse obviously hadn’t shown up to their interior design class on the concept of doors.
But if I was quick . . .
I grabbed fresh underwear, found the first pair of shorts I could, and threw all the towels on the bed as I stepped into them.
“Alright, I’ll be there when the rain stops,” I heard Chloe say, followed by the noise of the phone returning to the handset.
Panic gripped my heart as I scrambled for a shirt to wear, anything to cover me up.
“Shit, sorry,” she shouted, catching a flash of skin before I yanked the hemline down.
“It’s okay,” I managed, my heartbeat still drumming. How much had she seen?
“I didn’t realize. I wasn’t sure if you needed this.” She held up a fresh towel, offering it to me. I took it from her, wrapping
it around my hair. “It’s good to see you didn’t get stuck this time.”
I laughed flatly, feeling the closing proximity between us in the small bedroom.
“I see you found my favorite T-shirt. I wondered where it went.” She hummed. I immediately looked down, having assumed the
T-shirt I’d grabbed from the dresser was my own.
Instead, I found the tagline sitting next to a little racket that read “I serve harder than your ex.” I didn’t need to look
in the mirror to know that my face was quickly burning red.
OH GOD.
“Oh, I thought it was mine.” I panicked, fingertips pulling at the hem, realizing what I was wearing underneath: nothing.
“It’s fine.” She smiled, unaware of the mental screaming I was doing. “It looks better on you anyway.” Chloe moved around
the bedroom as if it were her own. I guess it was. “Do you have anything I can borrow?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.” I stumbled over my words, spinning around to the dresser. I pulled out some clothes, judging her size to be similar to my own, and passed them over. Her fingers brushed against mine again as she took the material.
“Thank you,” she said, before, without any hesitation, she turned around and pulled her wet clothes off.
I spun around, heart pounding against my chest. I mean, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t caught glimpses of before. In locker rooms
and in beachside bikinis. But this felt different.
“It’s so cute here. I forgot how nice it is,” she said casually. As if she wasn’t currently half naked behind me. AS IF THIS WAS NORMAL.
“Yeah, it’s really comfortable,” I just managed to say, stumbling over my words. I heard a thump, probably the dog getting
up to mischief, and I instinctively turned around, only to see Chloe’s naked back.
Her shoulders looked like they were carved from ivory, tan lines prominent along her milky skin from her time on the court.
I was hypnotized as she moved, her hair stuck to her back. Her arms lifted before I realized I could also see the swell of
her breast. Before it could register, she pulled down the tank top I had given her.
Then she looked over her shoulder, her gaze catching on mine, and a sly smile slowly curled her lips. “Private too.” She winked.
I froze. Did she mean what I thought she meant? She must have seen the panic cross my face as she corrected, “I mean, it’s away from my parents. I needed the space.”
“Oh yeah. Of course,” I said, smiling. “They seemed like they care?”
She let out a heavy breath, turning around fully, her wet clothes wrapped up in a towel. “You have no idea.” Chloe shifted her weight, her gaze dropping for a brief second before meeting mine again. “They mean well, but sometimes
it’s . . . suffocating, you know?”
I chuckled softly. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” she admitted. “Are you hungry?”
“Is that your way of saying you’re hungry?” I asked. There was a low rumble of thunder, the storm reminding us of its existence. “Was that you or the weather?” I joked.
“Me,” she said quickly, grinning brightly.
I hummed to myself, heading for the kitchen. “I don’t think we have a lot over here.” Chloe’s chef had been making most of
our meals, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t stashed some snacks. “But I do have some ramen?”
“Fresh?” Chloe asked, following me through.
“No.” I shook my head. “Instant.”
“I’ve never had it.”
I paused, looking back at her. “You’ve never had instant ramen?”
She shrunk in on herself. “I’ve always had a chef, or room service.”
“Have you ever had to make your own food?”
“Sure, if it’s like reheating it in the oven,” she said. “But it’s all been pre-prepared.”
I nodded, understanding. So many of us were used to having our meals made for us, the diet of an athlete predetermined, well
studied, and even better documented. I bet there wasn’t a meal she’d had that wasn’t calorie counted and protein packed.
Opening the cupboard, I pulled out the two flavors I’d brought with me. I’d learned a long time ago to always have a snack
on hand. You never knew when room service closed or you’d get stuck somewhere with only a protein bar as sustenance. “Well,
you have a choice. Tom yum flavor or chicken.”
She paused, biting her lip. And I pretended not to notice. “Why are you being nice to me?”
I opened my mouth to issue a denial, but there was no more denying that things were . . . different. I was here, in her house,
working for her. And it had been a little while since we’d found ourselves in a fight.
This was something I couldn’t name but felt pressing against the edges of every interaction we’d had lately.
It wasn’t a rivalry, but it wasn’t quite friendship either.
It was softer, unspoken, like the quiet after a match when the crowd’s roar fades, and all that’s left is your own breath in your ears.
“Don’t you think being friends is a lot easier?” I offered as the kettle stopped boiling. Peeling back the container lids,
I poured the water in for the ramen, watching the blocks of noodles float up.
“Sure,” she said. “But that hasn’t stopped you before.”
“Maybe I got tired of fighting you,” I suggested. “Besides, I think practice today took out all the hostility I had.”
“You thought you had me with that last overhead, didn’t you?”
How could she read me so easily?
“I think I’m pretty confident it was going to be my point,” I confessed.
“I guess this makes me the winner.”
“You wish. That final game was incomplete.”
Chloe leaned back on the counter. “I seem to remember returning that ball and getting nothing back.”
“Calvin had already called it off due to weather.”
“And I think that was after you didn’t return the ball.” She smiled knowingly, before my phone burst into life, a timer going off.
“Saved by the bell,” I said, lifting the lid from the ramen, steam revealing the now-cooked noodles.
While I finished the minimal prep of the noodles, Chloe moved to the lounge, getting comfortable while I took the food over,
Wilson looking on hungrily from where she lay on the floor.
“Okay, try this one.” I sat down next to her, offering her the chicken ramen first. “I added some garlic.”
“Doesn’t it need some soy?”
I shook my head. “Not this ramen. It’s like fifty per cent sodium.”
Chloe continued to look unconvinced. Twirling a fork in the noodles, she took a mouthful.
I watched her face for any sign of disgust. “Well?”
“This isn’t bad,” she said, swallowing down another. “It’s not as good as fresh ramen, but it will do in a pinch.”
I rolled my eyes, offering her the second cup. “Try the tom yum. It’s my favorite.”
This time, she didn’t hesitate.
“Isn’t bad” my ass. Fancy-pants “fresh ramen” Murphy liked the $2 cups.
“Okay, this is good,” she said and smiled, happily eating another mouthful of noodles, her eyes almost rolling back at the flavor. I forced myself
to look away before that expression burnt itself into my eyeballs.
Instead, I picked up the other pot and began to dig in, the post-training hunger hitting hard.
“Wait, you said this one was your favorite!” She offered her cup back to me, holding it out. I smiled, noticing a little of
the spicy stock staining the corner of her lips.
Did she have to look so cute?
“I don’t mind,” I said. “You have a little . . .” I pointed to my lips. “Just a little stain.”
She wiped at her mouth, but it remained.
“Here, let me,” I offered, but as soon as my finger reached the corner of her lips, I realized my mistake.
Soft. Pink. Plump . . . and I knew exactly how those lips felt against mine.
Music, playing down the hall. Her, sitting on my lap. My tongue, in her mouth.
“Got it.” I pulled back, a wave of awkwardness crashing into me. The less I remembered that night, the better. The less I’d want a repeat.
“How about we go halves?” Chloe offered, tilting the cup in her hand. “I’ve already eaten from both bowls.”