Chapter 12 #3
“She wants to go out with Coach Wood?” he whispers and looks toward the front of the plane. “In all the years he’s been my coach, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him even look at a woman.”
“I haven’t seen him glance at a woman either since my mom left either. I think he’s dead inside when it comes to romance.”
“What did you say to Giselle?” he asks, more invested in this than I thought he’d be.
“She could go for it, but I wasn’t giving her a lot of hope.”
Glancing toward the front of the plane again, he asks, “Does he even understand what a date is?”
“At this point, I think he considers the term date more of something he eats to help with constipation rather than an opportunity for conversation and a meal.”
Levi lets out a roar of a laugh, and the sound travels through me, all the way down to my toes, warming me up.
“Please tell me he eats dates for constipation.”
“Are you really interested in my dad’s bowel movements?”
“Oddly, yes. Anything to give me that edge when he’s yelling at me, spittle flying off his lips and right onto my eyeball.”
“Has that happened?” I ask.
“Several times. So give me the goods. Does he have a secret stash of dates when he has a sicky belly of poop?”
I flinch in disgust. “Please, don’t refer to it as that.”
He chuckles. “Well. . .”
I twist my lips to the side, pretending to give it some thought, then I lean closer to him and say, “He has a date every morning and night to stay regular.”
“Is this before or after he blesses his underwear?”
I grin. “Before.”
“Good to know.” He nods.
“What about Jessica?” I ask, bringing it back to the conversation he clearly avoided.
“What about her?”
“You going to call her?”
He rubs his hand along his jaw and shakes his head. “Not my type.”
“Jessica’s not your type?” I ask, flabbergasted. “I feel like she’s everyone’s type.”
“Not mine,” he says.
“Is that so? Then what is your type?” I ask.
He stands and sticks his hands in his pockets. He looks down at me and says, “I’m staring at it.” With that, he heads back toward the middle of the plane, leaving me in utter disarray.
Because who says that and walks away?
Levi Posey, that’s who.
“So, couldn’t splurge for the extra room again?” I ask as I stare at the cot in his hotel room.
“Told you I need you close in case I need anything.”
When we arrived in Chicago, we went straight to the arena.
Dad wanted to carve some time out for them to warm up their legs, get some motion into them, and visit with the trainers for any treatment needed.
Levi was there longer than I expected, which gave me time to catch up on his social media.
Once I began posting, I realized just how much work it is to keep up with all the comments and responses.
I don’t comment on them, but I like to see what people are saying so I can continue giving them the Levi content they want.
He also had me run a few errands, like grabbing him some bologna for the game tomorrow and for a snack today.
I watched him stuff a sandwich in his mouth with three bites. It was equally impressive and disgusting.
He sets his suitcase to the side and takes a look at his watch. “Fuck, I’m hungry. Want to grab something to eat?”
“Uh, I mean, yes, but do you want to eat with your assistant? Not with your guys?”
“They’re all doing other things.” He takes a step forward and tugs on my hand. “You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”
My mouth goes dry.
“When you say it like that, it looks like we’re going to dinner.”
“Good decision.” Once again, he pushes some hair behind my ear. “Let’s go.”
I swallow down the nerves scattering through me and grab my wallet and phone from my bag, and together, we head down the elevator to the hotel restaurant.
While we wait for a table, he says, “Feels full circle, doesn’t it?”
I look up at him. “Are you referring to the first night we met?”
“Yup.” He reaches up and twists a strand of my hair around his finger. “Although, I doubt you’ll be palming my dick tonight.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva as the hostess comes back. With two menus in hand, she directs us toward a two-person table right next to a fireplace.
Very romantic.
Very intimate.
Very not what I was hoping for.
I’m trying to keep this professional.
I’m trying to make sure I keep my hands to myself.
But it’s as if something has switched in his head.
The touches.
The comments.
The dripping-wet body in a barely-there towel.
It’s almost as if the roles have reversed, and he’s taunting me.
Levi pulls my chair out before he takes his seat. We’re facing each other with the fire on the right, brimming with flames and casting a glow on us as the hostess sets down our menus.
“Jared will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” Levi says, scanning the menu. “Hmm, I’m in the mood for a burger. What about you?” He glances up at me, and I find myself staring, confused that he can be so casual about this.
Glancing down at the menu, I try to rid my thoughts and not be awkward about this. “Umm, I’m kind of feeling a pasta dish.”
“Interesting. I thought you’d get a burger as well.”
“Why’s that?” I ask. “Think I like copying you, and I don’t have a mind of my own?” I use a teasing tone so he doesn’t think I’m serious.
“No, just seems like you like a lot of meat in your mouth.”
My jaw falls open as I stare at him blankly.
He chuckles. “Burger meat, Wylie.”
“That is so not what you meant, and you know it.”
He smirks. “Take it as you will.”
“Well, for your information, I like carbs, so therefore, it will be a pasta dish for me. This primavera looks good.”
He scratches the side of his head. “Or do I want tacos? I love a taco in my mouth.”
“There aren’t tacos . . .” I pause and look up at his grinning face. “Why are you the way that you are?” I ask.
“Why do I like tacos? Well?—”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I meant . . . never mind.” I shake my head.
“Do you not like tacos?”
“No, I like tacos,” I say, “but I know tacos aren’t really what you’re talking about.”
He leans back in his chair. “And what exactly am I talking about?”
“You’re talking about the vagina?—”
“Uh, I can come back.”
I’m startled as our server steps up to our table, ready to take our order. My cheeks flame with embarrassment as Levi says, “Oh no, I think we’re ready. The lady will have the pasta primavera, and I’ll take the tacos.”
“Great. And to drink?”
Levi looks at me, but I’m still embarrassed about the vagina comment, so he says, “Water for both. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. I’ll put that right in.”
When the server leaves, Levi says, “Not sure where your mind is at, but I was really talking about the tacos.”
“I didn’t see tacos on the menu, and you knew he was coming up behind me, didn’t you? You made me say vagina to him.”
“Technically, it wasn’t to him. And it could have been worse. You could have said pussy. At least you used the scientific term. The classy version.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think there’s any classy way to refer to the female genitalia.”
“Not true, you just said it. Female genitalia. Wow, nothing makes me harder than calling a delicious pussy the female genitalia. Talk about a turn-on.”
“Delicious?” I ask, brows raised.
“Oh yeah, love eating a good pussy.”
Dear God in heaven.
I squeeze my legs together as I clear my throat. “Well, that’s new information.”
“One of my favorite things to eat,” he continues. “If it was on the menu, I would have ordered it.” Then he looks at me with those devilish eyes and says, “Maybe for dessert.” He winks, and I quickly rise from the table. His eyes track my jerky movements.
“I, uh, I need to make a phone call.” Before he can respond, I move toward the back corner of the restaurant, where I hide away from Levi and pull out my phone. Quickly, I dial up Sandie and hope she answers.
On the third ring, she does.
“Hey, how’s it going?” she asks.
“Not good,” I hiss into the phone.
“Uh, okay, what’s going on?”
“He’s different,” I say.
“I assume we’re talking about Levi. How is he different?”
I look past the corner, over at our table where he’s sitting casually, staring right at me.
I squeak out a sound before I move out of sight again. “He’s . . . he’s sexually charged,” I answer.
“Describe how he’s sexually charged.”
“Well, besides the fact that his entire demeanor went from she’s off limits to I’m pushing her hair behind her ear now, he’s walking around in a towel, all wet from the shower, telling me that I’m his type when there’s a woman more suited to him serving him drinks on the airplane, and now he just offered up my vagina for dessert. ”
“He really said that? That he was going to eat you for dessert?” she asks, shocked.
“Well, not blatantly, but in a roundabout way, yes. And then there’s just little things, like, oh, he gave me a massage! And he touches me and twirls my hair. I feel like he’s flipped the switch, and he’s the one doing erotic torture, not me.”
She’s silent for a second and then says, “Maybe he is.”
“Huh?”
She gasps. “Maybe . . . maybe he knows you know.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I look past the corner again. This time, Levi twiddles his fingers at me in a wave.
I quickly hide again, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Maybe he knows that you know about the agreement he has with your dad.”
I pause and think about it. Consider his transformation. He was skittish, adamant about keeping things platonic and then, all of a sudden, he switched his behavior. A complete one-eighty.
I mean, hell, we’re sharing a hotel room in case he needs me in the middle of the night to do God knows what.
It wouldn’t be too hard to get me a hotel room. I could easily tend to his every need from another room. And since I’ve been here, I really haven’t done anything.
So maybe . . .
Maybe Sandie is right.
“You really think he knows?” I ask.
“No idea. It’s a hunch, though. Did you give him any indication that you know?”
“No, but I did stop the erotic torture, and shortly after that, he picked it up.” I press my hand to my forehead. “Do you think he knows about the erotic torture somehow and just decided to play me at my own game?”
“Possibly. Does it feel like he’s playing the erotic torture game?”
“I mean . . .” I think about it, tugging on the corner of my lip. “Not as blatant as I was at times, but yeah, it feels like he’s trying to turn me on or at least get me to slip somehow.”
“Then I bet he knows. How could he not? He was so adamant about not crossing the line with you and keeping all zippers zipped up and all nipples stuffed away. I bet he knows and is playing you at your own game.”
I grumble under my breath. “Of course.” I rest my head against the wall. “Of course he freaking knows. Why else would he be pulling this stunt?”
“Well, also maybe because he finds you attractive.”
“He’s said that, I know, but to risk that attraction?” I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “No, he’s playing the game.”
“And what game is that? Because I know I’ve been a part of this from the beginning, but I’m still confused. What the hell is going on?”
“The who is going to break first game,” I say.
“And when you say break, you mean . . .”
“Give in to the eroticism. Come on, Sandie, keep up.”
“Right, right. We’re always coming back to the eroticism.”
“Exactly.” I shake my head. “God, he thought he was so good. He thought he could just skate on by, drive me nuts with his pectorals on display and his bulge ready to be unwrapped. Ohhhh no, I see right through him. When I said this is war, I meant it, Sandie. Time to strap on the war paint.”
“You know, you sound a bit, um, unhinged at the moment, and I just want to make sure we’re maintaining our goals.”
“Oh, we’re maintaining them all right. We’re controlling our goals. We’re taking the men by the dick, and we’re making them all suffer.”
“Okay, so when you say things like that, do you mean you’re taking your dad by the dick as well? Because although I enjoy the play on words, I’m just afraid we’re not thinking entirely straight here.”
“I would never grab my dad by the dick.”
“Good, okay, now I feel like we’re?—”
“But I would grab him by the man nipples.”
“Ehh, okay, now we’re back to me being concerned.”
“No need to be concerned,” I say, feeling slightly crazed. “Everything is on the up and up.”
“What do you mean by that?”
The warrior inside me takes over as I say, “I mean, we’re no longer going to sit back and be the good girl worker. Ohhhh no, if he wants to play with me, then I’ll play with him. First one to cave loses.”
“Ah, I see. So we’re not going to tell him that you know he knows that you know? We’re just going to continue this battle?”
“Battle? Ohhhh no, Sandie. This is war now. All of this is war. I was sidetracked for a second there, trying to please my dad, but not anymore. I’m doing this for me and me alone.”
“I like that attitude, but what are you going to do?”
I squeeze the phone in my hand and say, “Erotic torture is back on.”
“Oh dear God in heaven . . .”