17. Chapter 17 #2
I can't say I'm as strong as Nat is. The video is still playing, and I study the area in question.
It is not an obscene view, but there's enough there that you want to look closer.
Make sure you're seeing what you think you're seeing.
Worse for me, because I remember how he looked when he came out of the pool.
I shiver, lean back in my chair, and steal more mate.
"So who's winning?" Pen asks.
"Saint, but we'll see." Evie adds hot water to the gourd and sips from it. "There's still time to go."
Of course he's winning. It's almost unfair.
"You have to be objective," I tease. "You may live with one of them, but fans know what they're doing."
Evie purses her lips in humor. "You live with one of them, too."
Pen jumps out of her seat and saves me from having to find a good answer. Something better than, it's different .
"Oh!" Pen exclaims. "They're playing now. We missed the switch, oops. "
We stand near the window and watch. Whatever play they made, it's good. Saint sprints with the ball toward the end zone. Nerves instantly sprout in my belly.
I grab Evie's arm. "I don't think I can watch."
"Yes, you can," Evie says. "If they score, you need to see what they do."
Before I know it, Saint crosses the final yard, throws the ball hard into the grass, and it bounces off and away. He dances in place and, when Dom joins him, they do a series of coordinated moves.
I'm still frozen in place. I cling to Evie.
She rubs my hand in a comforting manner. "Ugh, I love it when they do stuff like this. See them dancing? I bet they practiced that."
"And look at the crowd," Nat adds. "The energy is immaculate."
Bold silver words appear in the megascreen, reading HEAR THE THUNDER . The whole stadium seems to break into a roar. For a second or two, the bass of it makes my chest vibrate.
"Wow. Yeah." I release Evie's arm. "That is pretty sweet."
Pen's eyes glint. "Not as sweet as when the guys dare Logan to make a heart with his hands in Evie's direction."
"He'll do one for me at the end of the game today." My friend grins. "Because he knows I like them, not because of a bet."
"Aw, that's nice." Pen sits and we all imitate her. "It must be love."
"Right?" Evie tracks Logan on the field on his walk back to the bench. "We love a man who will show his feelings freely."
The Strike's defensive team takes the field, and we all relax into our conversation again.
"Talking about showing things freely." Nat smirks in my direction. "You're wearing Saint's jersey."
"It was Dom's idea." I chew on my lip. "And I wanted to show I support Saint."
"What did your roommate say?" Evie asks .
"Not much. He gave me the jersey this morning and told me he looked forward to seeing me in it."
He said it with a smile I couldn't decipher. His eyes lingered on me, too. Butterflies invaded my stomach at the time, for some reason.
I frown. "But if it's anything like it was in college, that means something, right? At least in their mind."
Evie sips from the mate and nods. "They compete over everything, including how many people choose to support them. At least that's my theory."
"Yeah, it's a possessive thing, too," Pen says. "They go a little caveman over having their inner circle wear their jersey."
"Especially their partner," Nat says.
"Or best friend, like me." Pen smirks. "Bear would hate seeing me wearing someone else's name, even if we're not together. That's why I said 'inner circle.'"
"How many people have worn Saint's jersey?" I ask.
Evie gives me the mate and I take a sip. The three women next to me gaze at each other.
"No one has worn his jersey before," Nat eventually says.
My chest stirs. Air seems scarce, all of a sudden. Those butterflies come back to life for good measure.
I do my best to tame them with a deep breath, and by paying attention to these golden nuggets of information. I'm not sure why, but they matter.
"In fact," Nat adds, "I think I've heard Saint say he doesn't let his dates wear his jersey on purpose."
"That makes sense." Evie takes the mate from me. "He's told me he's very careful about letting dates believe there's a future with them and, somehow, the jersey is part of that."
I rub my lips and pretend the comments haven't made me dizzy. So much meaning could be garnered from them, but I'm not ready to face them.
"So how are things going since the breakup?" Pen asks .
I mask another deep breath in a long sigh. "They're okay. The biggest issue is still my business. We filmed that episode with Saint for the streaming service that I'm really hoping will help bring in cash and opportunities. It's coming out tomorrow if you want to watch it."
"We'll watch it!" Nat says, and Pen and Evie agree.
"I appreciate it." I smile. "I have this fantasy that if the episode does well, I'll get to ask the producer for leads and options. Otherwise I really need to start thinking about loans."
"Did you like recording it?" Evie asks. "I can always find other shows like that for Saint. I'm sure he'd invite you each time."
I chew the inside of my mouth. "I really enjoyed it, actually.
It felt like I was cooking with Saint for friends that were about to arrive.
Even having to talk to the cameras. It was like sharing my thoughts and feelings about cooking and food and community…
It was great. But let's not push Saint. Let's see what happens with this show first. My focus should be on my business, anyway. "
A lot of it is going into managing this raging crush on my brother's friend instead. No matter what my feelings are and the number of fantasies they plant in my mind, a relationship with him is not one of those branches I'm hoping for.
He dates plenty, current break notwithstanding. Jersey with his name aside. He's never been known to date long-term, and I won't have anything less.
Except Saint is a feast himself, and there's nothing less about him.
The true problem here is that I'm nowhere near ready for another long-term relationship. I need to figure out who I am first.
"How's your ex behaving?" Nat asks. "When Damián and I got together, my ex said some pretty horrid things, from what I heard afterwards."
"Saint and I are not together—" I feel the need to clarify— "but Aidan got jealous when he learned I'm staying with Saint."
"That's good, right?" Pen asks. "Fun, at least. He's a well-known musician I think? It has to have hurt his ego that you moved in with someone with so much to offer like a pro-athlete. And Saint is cute. "
More than cute, but all I do is nod.
The Strike intercept and we jump to the window again. My hands latch in front of my chest, and I squeeze hard enough to rub my bones together, watching the scramble on the field.
"How do you do this all the time?" I cry. "My stomach is twisting!"
But when the cornerback manages to score the touchdown, Saint celebrates on the sidelines and dances with his friends, and the warmth it evokes could make me melt.
Until he turns toward the suite and points at us. He keeps on moving to music only he can hear, and even from this distance I know he smiles. Melting is too soft a word for what I feel now. Whether he pointed at the group or at me, the heat at every nerve ending can't be any less than ignition.