Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Drake
“Heads up!”
I spin around just in time to catch a basketball aimed straight for my head.
“Sorry about that.” A guy on the other end of the court holds his hands out for me to pass the ball back to him. We’ve exchanged pleasantries in passing a few times. He’s always seemed like a decent guy, but the ball to the head makes me reconsider that assessment. “I completely missed that pass.”
I fire a bounce pass his way and then turn back to Jory.
Jory Plath, a winger with the Tennessee Royals rugby team, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
We met two years ago when I moved into this building and quickly bonded over sports and a shared love of pizza.
When he called me on my way home from the office and asked if I wanted to shoot around for a while in our building’s gymnasium, I was all too happy to take him up on his offer.
After the day that I’ve had, I need an outlet to release some of this energy that’s still buzzing beneath my skin, or I’m going to go crazy. It’s also nice to think about something else for a minute. Distance sometimes provides clarity.
“I just don’t know if I want to do it anymore, man,” Jory says, banking a shot off the backboard.
“A part of me thinks I’d miss rugby like crazy if I retire.
But then I think about not hurting every fucking day, settling down in one place, maybe getting a dog, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. ”
“A dog?” I chuckle. “That feels so random.”
“You know what I mean, asshole.” He tosses me the ball. “How’d you know when it was time to retire?”
I step to the three-point line and launch a perfectly arched shot over the rim. The net swishes as the ball slides through.
This question comes up surprisingly often, especially in conversations with other athletes.
It’s hard for us to walk away from a game that we’ve been playing since we were children.
It’s the only reality we know. It’s often the only thing we’re good at.
But my retirement story is complicated and includes discovering Dad’s rapid mental decline.
That played a huge factor in my decision, but that’s not a topic I want to discuss.
“How’d I know?” I ask. “Well, I took a look at my bank account and then took a call from my mom.” Which isn’t a total lie.
He laughs, nodding as he rebounds my shot. “Been there, done that—in that order.”
“We won three championships in five years, and I didn’t feel like I had anything left to prove.
” Which isn’t a lie either. “I had to commit to another three to five years with the team, with at least two of them being rebuilding seasons, or go home. And honestly, I played for eight years without major injuries. It felt like tempting fate if I stayed.”
“It was that simple, huh?”
“Hell no. There wasn’t anything simple about it. But I knew in my gut it was the right thing to do, and I always follow my gut.”
He snorts, setting the ball down and swiping his water bottle off the bench.
He takes a quick drink. “Well, I wish mine would tell me more than to stop drinking cow’s milk.
The last time I tried to figure out what my gut was saying, I woke up with a wife.
” He curls his lips. “That’s why I stopped listening to that sonofabitch. ”
“I didn’t know you were married.”
“I’m not.” He gives me a toothy grin. “Anymore. Thank God.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, unable to read the goofy fucker.
He shrugs before trotting to the basket and shooting a free throw.
I take a ball from the rack by the window overlooking the courtyard and dribble it from one hand to the other.
Football was my bread and butter, but I’ve always loved basketball.
The smell of a gymnasium—sweat mixed with stale popcorn—reminds me of high school.
The acoustics are nostalgic. I’ve spent many hours bouncing a ball as I work out a problem or regulate my nervous system when I’m stressed.
Like now.
“Date me for six weeks. Let me prove you wrong.”
“Deal. You have six weeks to broaden my horizons.”
The thought of broadening her horizons makes my dick so hard I wince.
I have no idea what got into me today, or why I decided to shoot the shot I’ll never really get to take. There’s a damn good reason I friend-zoned Gianna on the first day that I met her. She’s impossibly perfect in every way but the one that matters.
Regardless of whether this was a wise decision on my part, the choice has been made—and she co-signed it.
I’d better enjoy the next six weeks because I won’t get them again. I’d better figure out how not to get crushed by the vixen, too.
“Are you about ready to call it for the night?” Jory asks. “I got up early as shit, and I need a shower. I smell like a locker room.”
“Yeah. Might as well.”
We walk side by side to the benches lining the court and gather our things. I sneak a peek at my phone—still no response from Gianna. I’m not sure if this is one of those “no news is good news” type of things or not.
“Want to grab some dinner on Sunday?” he asks as we head for the exit. “They opened a new surf ’n’ turf place near the stadium. Some of the guys on the team said it was good.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder. “I’m going to my parents’ house for dinner on Sunday. My dad is … going through some stuff, so I try to get back and help my mom as much as I can.”
“You’re a good dude, Bennett.” He starts down the long hallway to his bank of elevators. “See ya when I see ya.”
“Later.”
I forgo the elevator and take the steps instead—all nine stories of them. It’s a long haul, and by the time I get to my floor, my thighs are screaming. It hurts like a motherfucker, but it gives me something to think about besides Gianna.
Mr. Hernandez waves at me from the end of the hall as I slide my key into my door. I return his gesture before stepping inside my apartment, then I drop my shit and head straight for the shower.
I peel off my shirt to hop in the shower when my phone buzzes from my pocket. I dig it out and try to hide my disappointment that it’s not Gianna.
“Hey, Evie.”
“We have some things to talk about,” she says. “And I’m just a little pissed that I had to hear your news through the grapevine and not from you personally. Do you know how much clout I lost today from being the only person in my office who didn’t know you’re now dating Gianna Bardot?”
I blow out a breath that feels like it originated in my toes. A grin dances on my lips. Even though we’re not really dating, even though we are, I like the sound of it.
“My apologies for not calling you with such important news,” I joke.
“It’s Gianna Bardot, Drake,” she says, like I’m a child. “This is quite possibly a bigger deal than you signing with the Legends.”
I laugh at my sister. Only she would think that.
“So tell me what happened. Give me every little detail,” she says. “I need something juicy to share with the office on Monday to save face.”
“Did you listen to the podcast?”
“No, I didn’t listen to the podcast. Some of us have to work in the middle of the day—although I do plan on listening to it when I get home … and out of this traffic.” A horn blasts in the background. “This is the fast lane, asswipe!”
“Settle down.” I chuckle. “Damn. You sound like Dad.”
“There is one tractor in the slow lane, and this grandpa decides to match his speed in the fast lane. I’m the third car back, and I can’t see the end behind me.” She honks again. “Back to Gianna.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, talk to me about it. Let me help you uncomplicate it.”
I laugh. “You’ve never uncomplicated anything in your life. As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a situation where you didn’t complicate things unnecessarily.”
“Rude.”
I slip off my shorts and toss them into the laundry bin. I don’t know what to tell Evie. But I guess I’d better get used to talking about it because it’s going to be a thing for the next month and a half.
“It just kind of happened,” I say, reaching in and turning on the shower.
“We were talking to this woman on the podcast about whether she should stick it out in a relationship or bail. I said she needs to have a conversation; Gianna said to jump ship. One thing led to another, and I’m daring her to date me for six weeks to prove that not all guys are assholes.
To balance the equation a bit, if you will. ”
“So are you really dating or not? Because I’m going to be devastated if this is a prank.”
I laugh, checking the water temperature. Perfect. “I told you. It’s complicated.”
“What are you getting out of this?”
“Honestly?”
“No, lie to me,” she says, snorting. “Yes, honestly.”
I pace the room and ponder the question, which isn’t as straightforward as it seems. Sure, I think it’s a good thing for Gianna to experience a nice guy.
God knows that she deserves more than being ghosted and having to pick up the check at dinner.
But there’s a selfish part of it, too—and that part of it feels a little …
pathetic. But if there’s anyone I can confess that to, it’s Evie.
“Okay,” I say, taking a towel out of the linen closet. “Here’s what I’m getting out of it. Gianna is a woman who I’d consider spending a lot of time with. But she’s also the woman who I’ll never get to spend a lot of time with because she and I aren’t really compatible.”
“Why the hell not?”
I smile. “Because she doesn’t even believe in love, I don’t think.
She bails on relationships. She’s a fucking maneater, Evie.
” The thought makes me chuckle. “So I guess this is my way to have a few weeks with her without actually dating her.” I stop myself.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to date the hell out of that woman.
But I’m going to do it knowing it’s for six weeks and then it’s over.
” Hopefully, that’ll keep me from getting crushed.
“That’s an interesting take on things, but I hope it works out for you. I also hope we can double date so I can hang out with her.”
I shake my head. This conversation has gone on long enough. Evie got the information she wanted. Now she’ll use it to her advantage. Baby of the family shit.
“Hey, I have a shower running, so I need to go,” I say. “Are you good? You don’t need anything?”
“I will corner you on Sunday with prepared questions.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
She giggles. “Love you, Drakey.”
“Love you, Evie.”
She hangs up before I do.
The bathroom is steamy. The scent of eucalyptus from the branches my housekeeper hung in the shower a couple of weeks ago wafts through the air. I take a long breath, filling my airways with the cool, minty, almost medicinal scent. My lungs expand, tingling before I exhale.
I stare into the foggy glass, seeing a muddled reflection of myself. My stomach is a ball of nervous energy thanks to my sister’s questions. But they were helpful, too. Strangely, I feel better about this situation now than I did before my sister called.
I’m just going to have fun with it. I’ll make sure that if it’s only six weeks, it’s the best damn six weeks that Gianna ever has. She won’t be able to look back on this time without smiling and wishing she had more of it.
I turn toward the shower. Before I take a step, my phone lights up.
She finally responded.
Gianna: Yes, I’m free tomorrow at seven. Care to tell me where you’re taking me on our first date?
Guess that means she’s not backing out. I hold my breath as I type out my response, trying not to sound too eager. Play it cool, Bennett.
Me: It’s a surprise. I have everything handled.
Gianna: But what if I want details?
Me: You don’t always get everything you want.
Gianna: Yeah, I usually do.
“I bet you fucking do,” I say, reaching into the shower and switching it from hot water to cold. If this conversation keeps going this direction, I’ll definitely need a cold shower when it’s over.
Me: Not this time.
Gianna: This doesn’t bode well for our relationship, boyfriend.
Our relationship. I blow out a hasty breath.
Me: How can I make an impression if I treat you like every other guy does?
Gianna: I can think of ways.
“Yup.” I groan as my cock grows rock hard. “Cold shower it is.”
Gianna: So this is a real dating experiment? Meaning, it’s for science, but it’ll be real for all intents and purposes, right?
Me: You better tell Matthew to fuck off. Does that help?
Gianna: Oooh. Are you a possessive boyfriend, Drake?
Me: Are you a jealous girlfriend, Gianna?
Gianna: No. I’m confident that I can keep your attention for six weeks.
“There is no doubt about that.”
Gianna: If this is a real relationship, then I should treat you like I would any other guy who I’m dating, right? And not like my coworker? Or should it be my coworker who dared me to date him as a science experiment?”
Me: This will only work if you treat it like a real relationship.
I’m playing with fire. I’m playing with so much fucking fire that there’s no doubt that I’m going to get burned. Why does that sound so tempting?
Gianna: So I should totally send you nudes …
Me: PLEASE.
Gianna: No nudes before the first date.
Me: I knew I should’ve made our first date tonight.
Gianna: You missed an opportunity.
Me: Guess I’ll have to do what I do every other night then.
Gianna: What’s that?
I grab my cock and give it a nice, tight stroke.
Me: I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Gianna: Don’t be late.
Me: I wouldn’t dream of it. Good night.
Gianna: Night.
Memories of her lips assault me. And now, visions of her body naked … Just how far does Gianna plan to go?
This is going to be the longest, hardest six weeks of my life.