23. Chapter 23
Saint
I have almost thirty texts from Ames by the time I check my phone after winning the game. The celebration is still going on strong in the locker room, but I take my time re-reading my favorite ones.
At my cubbie, I sit down and smile.
Ames : the TV zoomed in on you dancing to that touchdown. You're such a great showman
Ames : are you okay? Damn tackles.
Ames : am I jinxing it if I say I think you guys are soooo going to win this game?
Ames : I've had a couple of drinks, which is only partly why I feel bold enough to tell you that play was HOT
Ames : another drink, and now I can't find a way to delete that text. Oh well, you did look HOT
Ames : you know what they say about peiple who dance well right? Hahaaha I bet you do
Ames : I can't wait for you to come home. Ill wait for you. You said we'd celebrte
Ames : Ignote the typso. CONGRATUELATIONS ON THE WIN AAAH YOU'RE AMAZNG
Ames : the way theyre replayijng your touchsdowns on TV they wuld have to be FOOLS to let you go. Evie agrees with meeee
"Who's the one sexting now?" Logan's voice has the same serious tone as usual, but I know him well enough to know he's teasing.
Saint: Can't wait to see you tonight.
I don't text anything else in response. When I choose my words this time, I want to do it while looking her in the eyes.
"I am not sexting." I put my phone away in my bag and prep my things for the shower. "Why would you say that?"
"I'm really enjoying getting back at you for the grief you caused me last year when I was falling for Evie."
"Did I tease you about sexting with the love of your life? I would never."
We mirror each other as we get ready for the shower, with towels at hand and our change of clothes hanging in the cubbie. The ruckus around us has started to calm down, as we all get antsy to go answer press questions and finally take the bus to the airport .
"You told me I looked like I was sexting when I wasn't." He frowns. "Then you told me you'd set me up with someone else. Shameful."
"I'm sure you took it with the same equanimity I am. I'm not sexting with Ames, and I don't need you to set me up with anyone else, either."
He raises an eyebrow. "Huh. You looked like that when talking to Ames? What could this possibly mean?"
I narrow my eyes. A gratified, tiny smile takes over his mouth as he grabs his phone. His eyes scroll down the screen, and his face changes in slow motion.
I chuckle. "Is Evie texting you, too?"
"Mhh. Let's make sure we're all on the plane on time," is all he says.
Several hours later, I open the door to my condo with curiosity bubbling in my stomach. Ames' guests should have left, as far as I know, but I'm not sure what to expect.
The living room lamps are on. Music plays from the speakers. A few piano notes ring in the air. They're random, and not part of a melody. They clash with the Latin Pop song filling up the space.
I close the door behind me. A quiet click is all it takes. Ames hears it and jumps off the piano bench.
"Gael!" She turns and wobbles. Her hands and ample ass press on the keys, and several dissonant notes clang in the air. "Oops. I'm okay."
I drop my bag and run to her. "Are you sure?"
I kick the bench aside and bring her into my arms, just in case she loses stability again.
Her hands land on my chest. She lifts bright eyes at me. A soft smile tilts her lips.
Ames is stunning, soft against me, willingly held in my arms.
My whole system stutters. My heart beats faster than it does when I score a touchdown.
I pull her tight, pretending she's still unsteady, but it's only an excuse.
This is as close as I might ever get, and I'm too weak to resist. I may be offering myself as her support, but I'm the one in need of a backbone .
It's just a taste. With my name on her lips, and the warmth of her body against mine, it's a morsel I can't resist.
Her fingers curl and she fists a handful of my shirt. The drumming in my chest intensifies.
"I'm really good." She blinks slowly. "Ready to celebrate with you, if you are. Your win and the call about the show…"
"Tell me everything," I whisper.
She makes me a drink she says has no name yet, but was a success during the watch party. It has rum, lime, mint, and pomegranate, and it's fresh on my tongue after we toast to the win and this offer that fell in her lap.
"Never in a million years did I think I might end up on TV." She sips from her drink. "Not that it's a sure thing at all, but the ladies told me I should act like the show's already mine."
We sit on the sofa. Soft music plays around us. The city outside twinkles against a dark backdrop, and the light of the lamps are a mellow honey in the room and on her skin.
"So you want the opportunity?" I ask. "Can you see yourself hosting a TV cooking show?"
"Fuck yeah!" she laughs.
I chuckle. I've dreamed of evenings like this. It's late in the night, I just played a brutally demanding sport for hours, and I'm sore and bruised, but nothing is further from my mind than rest. Not when Ames sits next to me at home, grinning every time she gazes at me.
"I loved recording the holiday special with you." She smiles beatifically at me. "If it's anything like that, I could share recipes and that togetherness I love so much about food."
"I can see it. A cozy show where you cook meals that bring people close. "
"It's all about celebrating. Friendships and family and love… you know, all the important things. Love in all capitals! Maybe you and Pablo could be my guests one day, and I could have a special about those things. The two of you representing all of it. Can you imagine? Would you be my guest?"
A soft blush reddens her beautiful face.
Her eyes shine with mirth, and the big waves of her hair look windblown and wild.
The gestures she makes are bolder than usual, and her voice is a little raspy.
She's uninhibited, still a little tipsy from the earlier festivities.
I can only hope the sight will never leave my mind.
"I'll go every time you invite me." I smile. "What would you want to do with your catering business?"
"Those dimples." She sighs.
I smile harder, so my dimples pop more. Her eyes journey over my face, down my chest, before she covers her face with her hands.
"I'd keep my business," she finally replies. "Focus on private events. I'd let Jo run all of that. A TV show would be great publicity, right? And with that cash, I bet I could keep everyone employed until things pick up."
"I bet. I'm excited for you."
In a clumsy series of movements, she kneels on the sofa and leans closer. I raise my eyebrows. The change is the physical equivalent of a non sequitur.
"I'm excited for you, too!" she exclaims. "You keep winning. They have to keep you. You can't leave."
"I'm doing everything I can to stay."
"Evie said the fans adore you. What's not to love? Everyone's got to see it. You score in every game, you have the flirtiest smile always, even when there are no cameras around. Those social media posts? Hot. And you're so warm and friendly with people around you…"
Warmth and longing and this feeling I've always had in my chest— they pulse, taking turns in different colors, creating a kaleidoscopic effect all over my inner world.
She glances at me. Her eyes twinkle .
She laughs.
"What?" I ask.
Her arm is close to me, resting on the back of the sofa. I can't stop it. I run my fingers over her skin in long, gentle caresses of my fingertips.
Her mirth softens into a chuckle. "I thought I kept myself on the right side of tipsy all evening, but I just said you're hot and I don't mind a whole lot. I must be more intoxicated than I thought."
Her eyes follow the movement of my fingers on her.
I smile. "You don't have to be drunk to admit I'm hot."
She laughs again. "And soooo cocky. And always flirting. You're flirting, right? I think you're always flirting."
"I can't help myself."
My voice comes out rueful, confessing truths I'm not ready to share about my feelings for her. How even when I know I shouldn't flirt with her, all I want to do is flirt with her.
I don't think she notices it.
"How did I not realize it before? The cockiness. The flirting I would have noticed years ago. If you ever directed it at me, that is."
"You must not have been paying close attention."
"I have paid att— attention. Too much, at times."
She's not slurring her words, and that wasn't quite a hiccup either, but I inspect her with curiosity. I have never really seen Ames under the influence.
"Is there such a thing?" I ask.
She frowns. "I shouldn't."
"Go right ahead, Amy. Pay close attention. I'll love every second of it."
She chuckles, thinking I'm making fun of things.
"Let's take it easy, then." I make a long pass of my fingers on her arm. "We said we would celebrate."
"You have work tomorrow. "
"We're celebrating." I clink our glasses and we drink some more. "I'll sleep another time."
"We'll go to bed soon. Each to our own room!" She giggles. "They were teasing me earlier about us living together."
"Evie and them?"
"Yep." She takes a big gulp of her drink. "I was teasing Pen about Bear. She keep— keeps making comments about him so we teased her. Then she teased me about my comments about you and she gave back as hard as she got."
"Wait. Were you making comments about me to them?"
I'm vain enough to love the thought. Greedy enough to be thankful she's been drinking and some filters have come off.
"You can't blame me." She points an accusing finger at me. "I have eyes. I live with you. I danced with you. I am a warm blooded human who likes sex and who hasn't had a mind-blowing night in years and years..."