Chapter 14
Fourteen
AUGUST CURRENT DAY (FRIDAY)
“T eams are Warren, Mac, and Jason versus Peter, Ben, and me.” I relay the split and internally laugh at the frustration on Jason’s face that comes from being assigned to the same team as Warren. But when Jason’s gaze lands back on me I shift out of his sightline. The way he’s been looking at me since I walked up in these leggings still sends a shiver through me—in a bad, uncomfortable way. I know he mostly agreed to play to go head-to-head with him, but this was the fairest way to split the teams.
I spent hours this morning looking for a solution for our company, but the only outcome of that was a never-ending stream of groans. There has to be a solution. Warren stopped by to help when he could, but Peter kept him in meetings all morning, and apparently they didn’t finish what they needed, so he’ll have to meet up with him again this afternoon.
Both of us were more than ready to blow off some steam with this basketball game.
“All right, team strategy,” I say after shooting Warren a menacing smile. I’m glad we’re on different teams—I really want to win just to throw it in his face. Mostly because the way he kisses when he’s worked up is on a whole other level, and with the way his eyes are trying to burn my leggings off me, I know that’s what’s waiting for me on the other side of this game. I may have needed time to think last night, but after I did some baking—in preparation for this weekend—and now that I’ve processed all the new information, I’m ready to cross that invisible line I’d drawn.
When we huddle up, I’m surprised when Ben, the quietest of the bunch, speaks up first. “I should probably take Jason, since we’re the tallest.”
“Agreed,” I say, relieved I won’t be paired up with him. And though I really want to be paired with Warren, it makes more sense to put me against Mac since we’re the only females here. But before I can voice my opinion, Peter jumps in.
“I’ll take Mac.” I try to hide my surprise and excitement when he looks over at me. “Can we trust you to deal with Warren?”
I can’t hold back my grin. “Consider it done.”
From observing this group over the past week, and especially with Peter’s request, I’ve started to wonder if there’s something between Peter and Mac. They’re often around each other and seem to speak a language that only the two of them understand.
When we break, and see the other team has chosen the same match-ups as us—to the obvious dismay of a grumpy Jason—I wonder again if they planned this ahead of time, especially when Peter and Mac keep smiling smugly, glancing over at Warren and me.
“You game, Summers?” Warren’s face is competitive and devious as he approaches me and all I want to do is throw my arms around his neck and kiss that stupid, handsome look off his face. His eyes darken and I know he’s catching every little tell on my face, in my eyes, in the way I’m positioning myself around him to give him the best view of my ass in these leggings.
I take a deep breath to steady my thoughts, then narrow my eyes at him. I grin back as I say, “Oh, it’s on, Mitchell.”
As the game starts, the teams look evenly matched. Ben and Jason both get extremely into it and start getting overly competitive almost immediately. No matter how much the rest of us are laughing and keeping it light, the two of them are acting like it’s the NBA Finals, Game 7. They’re so evenly matched they’ve essentially blocked each other out of the game since neither can get free from the other. It seems like it’s going to come down to me and Mac.
Whichever one of us can shut down our man more effectively is going to win this for their team.
Warren gets the ball from Jason and pulls some fancy footwork to roll around me and make a basket. He struts over to me like he’s walking a red carpet, and I scowl at him as my cheeks heat. He has always played into that air of confidence, and I see in his eyes he’s doing it for me.
“You’ve got to up your game if you want to beat me, Summers.” While he’s always been turned on by me going off on someone—or him—at work, I’ve always been turned on by his perfect amount of cockiness. I have to link my hands together behind my back so I don’t reach out to him.
“Watch yourself, Mitchell,” I say loud enough for the others to hear since they’ve been watching his celebration with varying levels of amusement and anger. But I lower my voice to add the last bit. “Or I might have to start playing dirty.”
His eyes light up, two beautiful suns burning me to the ground. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Despite myself, my forced scowl twitches up into a smile.
I take that as a challenge and start sneaking little touches across his body when no one’s looking to get his blood flowing and pull his focus from the game. From the way his eyes get darker and his breathing gets heavier, it’s working—but it’s affecting both of us. We’ve both done very little to contribute to this game score-wise, but it stays competitive mostly because of Jason and Ben.
The score works its way up to a tie game—next basket wins. Peter has the ball for my team, and even though he could find a way around Mac to score, he passes it over to me. I swear there’s a smirk on his face, but I immediately shift into serious competitor mode. I’m going to beat Warren.
I fake right, then roll around him to the left, but knowing he’ll have read my movement, I’m particular about my foot placement—landing right between his legs as he’s trying to twist around to stop me. It causes him to trip and fall and gives me the opening I need to make the winning shot.
The ball rolls around the rim and everyone goes silent.
When it finally drops in the net my team starts cheering as Warren sits on the ground calling for a foul. After I’ve let him complain long enough, I walk his way. “Aw, is someone being a sore loser?”
He scowls at me for real this time. “Don’t play coy, you know you did that on purpose.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease, getting closer. “I can’t control if you trip. Or can you just not handle losing to me?”
Someone snickers behind me, and my bet is it’s either Jason or Peter.
“You know exactly what you’re doing right now,” he says, just for us, when I’m standing over him and enjoying the way his eyes travel up my body. I fight a smile, but it gives me away— yes, I do know exactly what I’m doing, and it’s working perfectly. “You’re lucky this is a work event, or else things would get really dirty, really fast.”
I smile and hold out my hand. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I say, repeating his words from earlier.
“Oh, Analise.” He says my name like it’s a prayer as he gets up off his knees, and I almost drop down to mine. I suck in a breath when he brushes his fingers up my arm and whispers, “It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.”
He walks over to congratulate Peter and Ben and talk to his team as I take too many seconds to compose myself from those few words. All I can think about is how to get him back to my apartment without it looking suspicious.
And I get so lucky.
Jason drove here, and Ben accepts his offer for a ride back. It seems they bonded over their shared competitiveness. Peter and Mac say they’re going to stay at the park for a while, but they glance between us and smile as they walk away. In seconds, it’s just Warren and me. And as soon as we’re out of sight of the others, I lead him away from the hotel and towards my building.
We walk in silence through the streets of this town where we first fell in love. There’s a nervous, excited energy between us, just as there used to be back then. But before we even make it to my place, he grabs my arm and pulls me down an empty side street.
“Where—” I start to ask but he stops us, pushing me up against the wall and kissing me like it’s his job and he’s looking for a promotion.
He groans against my lips. “I’ve been waiting to do that since you walked up in those leggings. And then you started talking dirty and touching me during the game—I was about to lose my damn mind.”
“You’re easy to rile up,” I mumble as his lips make their way to my jawline. “I love that burning look in your eyes when I get under your skin.”
“God, I fucking love that about you.” He looks me in the eyes and my heart goes into overdrive at the word love . “I love that you’re the only person that can get under my skin. I love your wit and our playful banter. I love that you’re not afraid to call me out and tease me in front of anyone. And most of all, I love the way I can see every muscle in your body tighten when I run my eyes over you because I know every memory that’s making you react that way. I love that I’m the only person who knows how to make you squirm, who can make you weak with one look, who knows exactly what you like.”
I stare at him, awe-struck because it sounds a lot like he still loves me .
His hands run up my back, beneath my shirt and I suck in a breath. “I don’t exactly remember where Solana is, please tell me we’re almost there.”
I nod, smile, and grab his hand, pulling him along after me.
The building is a well-kept brick building. It looks quaint from the outside but the second you step into the lobby you realize how much work went into renovating the inside. The lobby floor is a white and gray marble with a few black couches and seats. There’s even a small chandelier that always perfectly refracts the lights in the room.
Warren looks around in awe. We only saw it through the windows back when it had been our dream to live here. We said we’d only step foot inside once we had a place there. I kind of kept that promise—I just replaced the we’s with me’s . When we step into the elevator, I press the button for the second floor. He stays quiet, but pulls me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me and dropping a kiss on the top of my head.
Many business professionals live in the skyscrapers in the city-center—tall, modern buildings completely made of glass. But here, it’s quieter. I’m practically on the ground floor, and there’s so much more charm than those other buildings. This place has been even better than I dreamed it would be, and now, with Warren here with me, it finally feels complete.
I lead him down the hall, my hands fumbling more than usual when I reach for my key. When I open the door to my apartment, I expect his lips to come crashing into mine again, but instead he slowly enters, his head on a swivel, taking everything in. I decorated the main rooms in neutral earth and clay tones. I wanted it to be cozy and warm, and feel lived in, so all the shelves are packed with decorations and personal mementos. I try to see it as he is, with fresh eyes.
It’s weird to be with him in a living space that he hasn’t been to, but I like having him here. He’s been a ghost in this place for so long, I’m glad he finally gets to see it. If he hadn’t moved, this would’ve been our place, our life.
A smile grows on his face. “This is exactly how I imagined your place would look,” he says, and I follow him as he walks towards the shelves against the back wall and starts examining their contents. There’s not much I kept from our old place, so he has a lot of new items to take in, but there is one thing I couldn’t get rid of.
He sucks in an audible breath, and I know his eyes have landed on it without having to look. He reaches out and picks up the small frame.
“You still have this?” His voice is small, and when he looks at me, his eyes are glassy.
That perfect polaroid—mostly a white blur with his hand hovering above us, holding a snowball and our lips locked.
Of course, I still have it.
“It’s not something I ever wanted to forget.” I shrug.
His hands are shaking as he sets it down and turns towards me. Something in me shifts then. This was supposed to be fun and light, the conclusion to the flirtatious challenge during the game. But I’m suffocating in the dense reality of it—it’s heavy and real. I know us, I know me , and I can’t do casual— we can’t do casual. This is either going to be all-encompassing or nothing at all, and I need to know which it’ll be now, before I let it become everything to me.
“You’re leaving again in a week,” I whisper as he takes small steps closer to me. “What are we doing?”
“What feels right,” he answers immediately, his hand reaching for mine and lacing our fingers together.
“Warren.”
“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll walk out that door right now,” he says, pleading, tears still pooling in his golden eyes. “Tell me that something has felt more right than being together and I won’t say another word. Tell me that you don’t still love me like I love you and I’ll find some excuse to get on the next plane out of here. Tell me you don’t want me anymore and I’m gone.”
A tear drops down my cheek and he lifts his hand to gently wipe it away. I close my eyes and lean into his touch. After a deep breath I look right at him. “You know I can’t tell you that. You know I still love you.”
“That’s all I need,” he says on his way to kiss me. And when our lips meet, that’s it. No more second guessing, no more questions, no more holding back. I give in to this feeling and to him. I give into this pull that’s always been between us. This pull that will always stay between us.
I kiss him, hungrily, desperately, not wanting to wait another second to be with him. My hand runs up his chest, pulling his shirt over his head and he laughs. “Someone’s antsy.”
I seal my lips back to his and mumble against him, “You might love it when I get under your skin, but there are other parts of you I’d love to be under right now.”
“Your wish is my command,” he says and picks me up, not breaking the kiss.
“Bedroom is at the end of the hallway.” I guide him when he starts heading toward the second bedroom that’s set up as an office space.
“I thought you said I do my best work without a bed,” he teases.
I laugh. “Just shut up and get me out of my clothes already.”
He lays me back on the bed and slides down my body. My heart is a drum, beating along to the perfect harmony of this moment, the long-awaited serendipity of this reunion I’d prayed would happen for years.
“I’ve missed you, Analise,” he whispers against my stomach as he pulls my shirt off. “And how bossy you are in bed.”
My eyes that had just fluttered closed fly open. I sit up and gape at him. “I am not bossy in bed.”
He raises an eyebrow at me and starts taking my leggings off slowly, so fucking slowly. I try to stay still but I can’t take it. This is torture. I start wiggling around trying to get him to move faster.
“Warren,” I complain, and he just laughs.
He only gets them to my knees before I take charge, sitting up and pulling them off before grabbing the waistband of his athletic shorts and pulling him to me while slipping them off him at the same time. He chuckles as he lands on the bed beside me, and I immediately climb on top of him.
That perfect sunshine smile is looking back at me. “Bossy,” he says. And before I can respond he pulls me down and kisses me. “And I fucking love it.” He cups my face and holds us nose to nose. “I love you. Always have, always will.”
“I started falling in love with you when I saw you leaning against your cubicle that first day,” I say, tears in my eyes. He loves me. He still loves me. “And I never stopped. I love you, Warren. Always have, always will.”
We both have glassy eyes as we make love to each other for the first time in over six years—and it’s just that. This is not just sex. This is not fucking. This is pure love flowing between two people who have been apart for too long. This is destiny taking over and righting something that has been wrong since the moment he walked away.
This is everything.
Even after we’re done, we lie there, holding each other, staring into each other’s eyes, unwilling to break this precious moment. A tear drops down my cheek and his hand lifts to wipe it away.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper, lips quivering. I still can’t quite convince myself this isn’t a dream. “I thought about you every day, no matter how hard I tried not to.”
I close my eyes as the featherlight pressure of his lips touches mine and his thumb continues to wipe my tears.
“I hate that you’re crying because of me,” he says against my lips.
“These are happy tears.” I pull back and smile at him. “I hoped you would come back every day and we could get a second chance, because you’re all I’ve ever wanted. This moment is almost too good to be true.”
“It’s real, it’s true.” He presses his forehead against mine and takes a deep breath. “ We’re real.”
I kiss him one more time before rolling out of bed to get cleaned up. In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection and grin at my messy hair and glassy eyes. I look happy—I’m glowing. I’ve been missing my sun for so long I almost forgot what this feels like: being Miss Summers and living up to the name. It feels good.
I splash water on my face and check the cut on my cheek and am pleased to find it’s receded and is only a small pink line that’ll be completely gone in another day or two.
I stay in the bathroom longer than I should because part of me is scared he won’t be there when I walk out. That it was just an elaborate dream my mind concocted to heal my broken heart. I never wanted to believe that Warren could still want me because it only made the hole in my heart larger, but he’s there, waiting for me at the door when I leave the bathroom, and he kisses me again—long and slow—before heading in himself.
My heart settles in my chest and I breathe easier. Not a dream.
This is real. We’re real.
I walk over to my drawers and open the middle one on the right-hand side, this time smiling instead of crying when I see what’s inside. I grab one of the old shirts and slip it on.
When he comes out of the bathroom, I’m sitting on the bed in an oversized T-shirt and his eyes widen when he sees it, recognizing it immediately.
“I wondered where that shirt went,” he says, a grin growing on his face. “You’ve had it this whole time?”
I bite my lip and my face scrunches up as I nod. “After you told me you took the job in D.C., I started stealing your T-shirts so that I had a stockpile in case you didn’t ask me to come with you and we had to do long-distance.”
His mouth drops open. “How many do you have?”
I point to the drawer, and he opens it. He pauses before he slowly starts pulling them out, one by one. His voice is quiet when he finally says, “Why did you keep them?”
There has to be at least fifteen of his shirts in there. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I knew I was going to miss him like crazy and wanted to prepare. “I still wear them to bed.”
“Really?” He turns to look at me and there’s a rawness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
“At first, it was because I couldn’t sleep well without you beside me, and they all smelled like you, so it helped.” I smile nervously but his eyes are endless pools of love. “And then after we broke up, I realized it was one of the only things I had of yours and I was never ready to let go of you, of us.”
“That’s why you kept the picture too?”
I nod and can’t stop my smile at the memory. “That was one of the best days of my life, even if it was a chaotic mess of a moment.” We both laugh. “I could never get rid of it.”
“Remember that first night, when I was telling you all about D.C.?” He sits on the bed behind me and pulls me into him so my back is against his chest and his arms are wrapped around me. I feel safe here—happy, in his arms. “All those things I love are things I know you’d love too. I see you all over D.C. I find myself picturing what your reaction would be to everything. Everything I do, I wish I was doing it with you.”
“You couldn’t let go of me either?” I whisper, the vulnerability of the question coming forward in a way that I don’t usually show.
“I know from your side it felt like I did let go, but I swear I never did.” He kisses my temple. “I was a stupid kid back then who was scared of a good thing. Scared that it was too good to last, so I broke it before it could break me. But I ended up breaking my own heart in the process. I don’t know how to begin to ask for your forgiveness, how to begin to make up for it.”
My heart tightens for that boy—the one that existed before he met me. The one who lost trust in love because of his parents’ divorce. The one I didn’t know about until after he was gone. The one I still hope he’ll tell me more about one day, so I can tell him I love that part of him too. For now, I just keep it light and revel in the happiness of being in his arms again.
“Just never leave me again.” I rotate in his arms and kiss him.
His hand comes to rest on my cheek, and he sighs. “Deal.”
He leaves soon after that to meet up with Peter before joining me and the old Triniti group at The Dizzy Acorn again tonight, so I begrudgingly kiss him goodbye. Only after he’s gone do I question the deal he just made me.
He’s only here for another week. Am I setting myself up for another heartbreak? Because I might love him more now than I did back then, and I don’t think I’ll survive him leaving me again.
What’s the probability it’ll work this time? The probability that we’ll be an us again?
I’m so used to having all the answers. I’m used to being sure and confident. I’m used to knowing. But I don’t know the answer to this question—maybe the most important question I’ve ever had—and it scares the shit out of me.