32. Brodie
I”m pacing the floor like a caged tiger on espresso.
Lizzy”s supposed to be here any minute, and I”m a cocktail of nerves and excitement. It”s like waiting for the results of a pop quiz you didn”t study for, except the subject is romance, and failing is not an option.
I am going to fuck this up, I can feel it.
I keep glancing at my watch, willing time to move faster.
Seriously, why does it feel like time is dragging its feet when you”re waiting for something as monumental as Lizzy”s arrival? I should have set up a countdown clock with fireworks or hired a skywriter to announce her impending visit. That would”ve been subtle.
My mind races with all the scenarios. What if she changes her mind and decides she”s better off knitting sweaters for that blasted squirrel in her wall? Or blow drying her hair? I shake my head, trying to dispel the absurdity of my thoughts.
She”s coming because she wants to.
Right?
Not because she wants to be friends.
We dispelled with that theory the second she invited me to play naked games to pass the time, practically begging me to remove my shirt.
I glance around my bedroom, feeling a sense…something.
This visit feels different and it’s not just because I have adrenaline from my game coursing through my veins.
My roommates aren’t home; they headed to the bar to celebrate though I suspect they won’t be out late.
We still have practice tomorrow and that team meeting, so best not to be hungover, yeah?
Tilting my head, I debate: should I light a few candles? Or would that come off as being a try hard—or will it just come off as being a fire hazard?
Note to self: Google ”romantic gestures to set the mood for dummies.”
I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart.
I push the doubts out of my mind by doing some last-minute tidying up. A whirlwind of socks and magazines are still scattered, and I pull the covers up on the bed, giving the pillows a hard thwak.
I find myself standing in front of the mirror, straightening my shirt for the umpteenth time. Do I look presentable enough? Should I have worn something less…sweatshirty? Is my hair doing that weird thing where it sticks up in the back?
Fuck. How do girls see the back of their heads when they’re doing their hair?
I give my head a quick pat-down.
Get down on my floor and start doing push-ups, cause nothing dials down the anxiety like an adrenaline rush although Lizzy is the best kind of dopamine.
In a few short minutes I won’t have to?—
Suddenly, there”s a knock at the door.
My heart skips ten beats before leaping into my throat.
Is that her already? Did I lose track of time with my neurotic pacing?
I rush to the door and yank it open, whatever chill I had in my body completely gone, grinning at her like a fucking idiot.
I feel like I”ve been hit by a lightning jolt of joy and that lightning jolt has gone straight to my cock.
”Hey,” she says, her voice soft and warm.
”Hey,” I reply, trying to sound cool and collected.
She steps forward, wrapping her hands around my neck, her warmth pressed against my body—her boobs, too. It sends a shiver down my spine and has me wrapping my arms around her, pulling her close.
”The front door was unlocked so I let myself in,” she says softly. “Wasn’t that brave of me?”
”You just waltzed right in?” I tease, pulling back to meet her gaze.
She nods, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ”Yup, I figured it was easier than running into one of your roommates. I like Sully but I’m not in the mood to socialize and I figured you weren’t either.”
“None of them are home.”
“Again? Wow. Are we having a streak of good luck or are they out partying or something?”
I shake my head. “They’re at the bar. Don’t think they’ll be long though.”
Leaning in, I press a lingering kiss to her forehead. Have I ever kissed a girl on the forehead before?
Who am I?
I’m acting like a sap, that’s who.
Without a word, I lean down; my heart pounds in my chest as our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. Sparks go off in my brain?—
I can practically hear the ”oohs” and ”aahs” echoing in my mind, crackling in the air around us.
So this is what having a girlfriend is like….
Not that she’s my girlfriend.
But I’ve often wondered what the big deal is and now I know.
Bonkers.
Moments like this—that make your dick hard at the same time they make your heart race—are the best fucking combo and I dare you to argue with me about it.
My addled brain throws confetti when her tongue meets mine; her delicious, sweet, warm tongue.
As our lips move with a sweet urgency that leaves me breathless. In that moment, nothing else matters but the intoxicating sensation of her pressed against me, and I’m glad my dipshit roommates aren’t here but even if they busted through the door…
Would I notice?
Would I notice if a truck drove through the living room?
I deepen the kiss, losing myself in the taste and feel and smell of her; each brush of our lips sending waves of pleasure coursing through my veins and makes me want to pick her up and toss her to the?—
Lizzy pulls back, breaking the kiss.
Dabs at the corners of her mouth, face red. Lips totally puffy and pouty.
I did that.
I made them that way.
She’s sexy as hell, hair a bit mussed though my hands weren’t in it, raking through it as I’ve done before because it’s so fuckiing silky smooth.
“Well.” She lets out a puff of air. “Woo! That was…” She goes and sits on the edge of my bed. “That was intense.”
Intense.
Hot.
Sexy.
I look down at her, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans to stop myself from reaching for her again.
Here she is, sitting on the edge of my bed, looking all cute and satedand I have no clue what to do with myself next.
Think Brodie, think, you fucker.
You invited her here for food, but did you think to make any? Or order it?
No.
Because you’re a moron.
My lack of inexperience with women is showing.
I can’t stand here staring at her until one of us cracks a joke.
”Tell me about your hockey game?” Lizzy asks, breaking the silence.
Thank god.
I blink, momentarily thrown by the unexpected topic. ”But you were there.”
Lizzy doesn”t seem deterred by my lackluster response. Guess she’s used to it by now?
“I know I was there but I want to hear what it’s like.”
“What’s it like being on the ice?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s cold,” I tease, removing the phone from my back pocket and pulling up the delivery app. Might as well get us something to eat while we’re lounging around since I promised her I’d feed her.
“You brat.” She giggles. “Do you ever accidentally trip over your own skates?”
I chuckle at her playful teasing. ”I used to, when I was younger,” I admit. “Now I’ll probably only trip over them if I know you’re going to be watching.”
“I doubt that.”
Little does she know how fucking nervous I am when I’m with her; how I feel like a giant ox, wandering around drunk in a room full of breakable glass.
“You look cute in skates.”
Cute in skates?
“Words that no one has uttered to a hockey player.”
She bounces her knee. “How do you know?”
“Cuz I know. That’s not something we hear.”
“Fine. How about sexy? You look sexy in skates.”
I nod. “Yeah. That one gets used all the time.”
Lizzy frowns. “But you’re still cute.”
“You don’t think I look like a penguin?”
”A penguin?” Lizzy interrupts, her laughter bubbling up. “No. But I was impressed with your athletic prowess.”
My prowess? Another thing no one has ever said to me.
“Prowess,” I deadpan. “What does that even mean?”
Lizzy laughs. “Sounds sexual, doesn’t it?”
Uh—yes. “Is it?”
She climbs back on to my bed, laying in the middle, hands clasped behind her head. “Of course.”
How am I supposed to know that?
“But what does it mean?”
Lizzy fishes her phone out from the back of her leggings. Taps on the screen and then, “Prowess refers to exceptional skill, talent, or expertise in a specific area or activity.” She looks up at me. “It means you’re exceptionally good at something.”
“Okay. But what does that have to do with it sounding sexual?”
She taps on her phone again. Clears her throat. “Having prowess in the bedroom is not solely about physical prowess or stamina. Having prowess in the bedroom often implies being adept at various sexual techniques, knowing how to please one”s partner, and being responsive to their needs and desires.”
She clucks her tongue. “That’s definitely you.”
I gawk at her.
Glance behind me.
Point a finger at my chest. “Me?”
She thinks I have skills in the bedroom?
Actually?
“Yes.” Lizzy laughs, giving her head a shake. “Why do you look surprised.”
“Cause I am.”
”You’re acting like you”ve never scored a goal off the ice in all your years of playing hockey.” She laughs again, giving me a look.
I grin sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. I don’t know what to tell her and I’m not exactly about to spill my guts about my lack of prowess, masturbating not included.
I hit ORDER on the delivery app and put the phone back in my pocket.
“Want to grab something from the kitchen? To drink?”
Her brows go up and she’s already scooting her way off the bed. “A drink to celebrate your win?”
“Sure.”
When we get to the kitchen and I pull open the fridge I discover that we don’t have much in the way of decent alcohol. A few beers—the cheap kind—a bottle of vodka, several of those canned, hundred calorie drinks that girls like and…
I lean in, staring to the back. “We have a bottle of wine.”
It’s been opened so I don’t know how good it is.
Lizzy peers into the fridge next to me. “I’ll do one of the pomegranate things. On ice?”
Awesome.
I pull a beer and her drink from the fridge, and open a cabinet.
Jesus, we don’t have a single glass to pour this in, just shitty plastic cups, none of which match. Like, where did we even get these? I bet if I walked back over to Lizzy’s house and went into her kitchen I would not only find glass glasses—but I bet they would all match and have some cute design on them.
I crack her can before I crack mine. “Are you sure you want this in a cup? We only have plastic.”
Lizzy nods. “That’s no problem. I realize that this isn’t the Ritz.”
“Do you have matching sets at your place?”
Another nod.
“I knew it.” I chuckle, filling a cup emblazoned with CUM’ON I WANNA LAY YA, KAPPA ZETA UPSILON ANNUAL HAWAIIAN BASH with ice. Then I pour in the pom seltzer and had it to her.
She takes a sip, smiling at me from over the brim. Hums. “Mmm, this is yummy. Thank you.”
You’re yummy, I want to say but don’t. Because I wouldn’t know what else to say after that and don’t want to sound like a fucking tool.
Not brave enough.
Maybe I’ll get to a place where I don’t feel like a total wanker saying shit like that but today is not that day…
I crack open my beer and sip the foam off the top, leaning against the counter.
“Look at us drinking together.” She smiles. “Sure you don’t want to go to the bar?”
The bar? “Shit, I haven’t been to a bar in months.”
Her eyes widen. “Really? Why?”
I shrug. “Just haven’t? We go to diner sometimes and hang out in town but not usually during the season. I have no idea why my roommates went out tonight, that’s not usually their thing either.” Some of the guys on the team can go drink until they’re under a table—but my roommates aren’t soaks.
“I’d probably have to drink an entire case of beer to get drunk and I’m not spending that kind of money at the bar,” I confess. “Plus, I get handsy when I drink.”
Lizzy wiggles her eyebrows, stepping forward, between my legs. “You do not get handsy when you get drunk, you liar. Although I appreciate you saying so.”
“Yeah you’re right—I don’t get handsy. It would be cool if I did, though, wouldn’t it?”
She laughs, taking another sip from her cup. “I’d only think it was cool if it was my ass you put your hand on.”
I feel my own eyes go wide. Shit. I hadn’t realized when I said that what the implication was.
Fuck.
“I would never…” Am I stuttering, cause it sounds like I am? “I didn’t mean…”
Lizzy lets out another laugh, this time, it’s loud. And her head is tipped back. She raises a hand and strokes my cheek.
“Oh you poor thing, I’m teasing.” She takes another drink. “But seriously, maybe we should do that one night.” Sip. “You know, go to the bar or something.”
If that’s what she wants to do, I guess that’s what we’re going to do.
I give her a nod. “Okay.”
“Only because that’s what everyone does around here and honestly, I would love to see you out of your comfort zone.”
“I do lots of things that aren’t in my comfort zone.”
She scrunches up her face. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like…helping you.”
Lizzy guffaws. “Knock it off, you would have helped me no matter what. Next.”
I think. “Playing naked board games.”
“You weren’t naked.”
“Okay but I could have been naked.”
She gives me that. “Yeah—I feel like we could have done that differently. Like. Maybe we should have had to take clothes off after getting our moves blocked not when we lost.”
“Never in a million years would I have suggested that,” I mutter, taking a healthy swig of my beer.
She watches my throat, before taking a sip. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“You like me?” I ask dumbly. “Since when?”
“Since…” She presses her body against mine. “Since I was a damsel in distress and you rescued me.”
I snort. “You did not need rescuing. You could have handled that whole thing on your own.” Which is one thing I like about her.
“How do you know I didn’t need rescuing?” She kisses the side of my neck, nuzzling it, causing my junk to stir. He’s listening intently to every word she’s uttering.
“Because you’re strong and independent?”
She likes that, humming in her chest. It reaches my eardrum and causes me to shiver.
“Am I though? Sometimes I want someone big and strong to pick me up.” Lizzy sets her cup on the counter behind me and runs her hands over my biceps. Squeezes. “Someone who could probably bench press me.”
I could totally bench press her but I’m not the bragging kind.
Instead, I nod. “Uh huh.”
“Rawr,” she makes a sound in her throat, giving my muscles another squeeze, hands wandering over my chest. Down my stomach, fingers sneaking under the hem of my shirt. “Your abs aren’t the only thing I like about you.”
Oh?
They’re not? Cause they’re not that great, if you want my opinion. I’m in good shape but I’m not like, a meat head. I’m not in the gym working out as often as I should be and I could step it up a notch and eat a bit healthier.
But whatever. That’s not her point.
“What else do you like about me?”
“I like how sweet you are.”
“You think I’m sweet?” This is news to me. I do not consider myself sweet or nice or any of those other descriptive words that mean a dude is dull.
“What’s wrong with the word sweet? As soon as I said it, you made a face like you had to shit your pants.”
My mouth falls open. Her words are always shocking me—mostly because they’re coming out of someone so dainty and delicate.
“For your information, I’d rather be with someone who treats me like I’m special than someone who treats me like they’re waiting for the next best thing to come along.”
I feel my brow go up. “Is that what you mean by sweet?”
Her head bobs up and down. “Yes, obviously.”
“Oh. That doesn’t sound so terrible,” I grumble.
Lizzy presses her boobs into my chest, leaning on me for support. “When did you know you liked me?”
I should have known she was going to ask me this in kind; turnabout it only fair.
“Uh.” Do I admit that I’ve liked her since the second I saw them moving into the house next door? And do I admit that, had she not come over asking for help, I never would have spoken to her.
“What makes you think I like you?” I tease, moving a piece of her hair out of her face, using any excuse to touch her.
She smacks me on the pec. “Don’t be an asshole. Answer the question.”
“I…guess when you moved in?”
She pauses.
Leans back to get a better look at me.
“Wait. What?”
“When you moved in, I guess?”
“Hold up.” She waves a hand between our bodies. “You liked me when we moved in? How?”
My shoulders lift. Up then down. “I don’t know—I saw you and thought you were cute.”
“But that was like…months ago.”
Yeah, it was months ago. “I just thought you were cute. Obviously I didn’t know you.”
Obviously.
“Why on earth didn’t you say anything?”
“Uh—because you’re our neighbor and I didn’t want to make it weird? Should I have walked over, knocked on the door and asked you out?”
“Yes!” She sounds frustrated. “That would have been great. Do you know how many idiots I’ve gone on first dates with in the past few weeks? Ugh, Brodie.” Lizzy laughs though, sliding her hands back up around my neck where I think they should take up permanent residency.
“Why are you so shy?” she whispers.
“I’m not shy. I talk plenty.”
“Did you think I was gonna bite?” Her lips press against the spot under my ear and I had no fucking idea how sensitive it was until she put her mouth there.