7
NICO
Saint: Yoooo!! Lover boy does it again.
Diva: Does what?
Saint: Well well. Look who finally showed up to the party.
Diva: Yeah yeah. Are you going to tell me what we are talking about?
Saint: The hot ass chick on his arm last night.
Diva: What? Seriously? When?
Saint: Last night! Did you not hear what I just said? Jesus, Diva. Don’t you read the gossip columns.
Diva: No, I don’t. I have this thing called a job. It doesn’t leave much time to troll the internet for pictures of myself.
Saint: I have a job, too. And I don’t just troll for pics of myself. I look for you fuckers, as well. It’s practically the only way I can see you.
Me: Awww. Is Saint Nik feeling lonely?
Saint: The guest of honor has arrived. Who’s the chick, Nic. Hey! That rhymes.
Diva: Good job, genius. Now…what he said. Who’s the chick?
Me: I’ll have to tell you later. I have a meeting to get to.
Saint: No! You can’t leave us hanging like that. At least tell us her name.
Me: Valentina. There. Now I really have to go.
Saint: Ooo. Valentina. A spicy Latina. Oh shit! I did it again. I’m a fucking poet.
Diva: Maybe you should see if Hallmark will hire you to write greeting cards.
Saint: Fuck off. You’re just jealous.
Diva: Roses are red, footballs are brown. Give me a chance, and I’ll let you down.
Me: Hahahaha. Good one.
Saint:
B uzz buzz .
The guys continue to text, but I don’t bother to respond. Rather than preparing for a meeting –which I don’t have– I lay in bed, playing back memories from last night.
Flashes of gold, jet black hair, those gorgeous eyes and the way they softened towards me as the night went on. Even her smile grew more genuine when she loosened up and realized I’m not the immature kid she takes me for.
My hand rests behind my head and I stare up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan whir.
The sun drowns my room in light and the temperature is ticking up with each passing minute.
My brain says to get out of bed and get to the gym, but my body says stay and finish thinking of Valentina.
I think about the way her body fit perfectly against mine as we danced.
It was as if we were two long lost puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.
Whether she felt it or not, I can’t be sure, but I felt it the minute her hand slipped into mine.
The sheets begin to tent as I recall the way she smiled when I spun her around the dance floor and dipped her when the song came to an end.
The guests all clapped and her cheeks turned a bright red.
I wanted to lean down and steal a kiss from her at that exact moment, but I knew that would be a sure fire way to get a hand across my cheek.
I let my hand slide beneath the sheet and grip onto the base of my hard dick.
It throbs in my palm and longs for something more than just my hand.
But I quickly remind myself that I promised Valentina I would behave.
No more quick hook-ups with chicks and no pictures online.
Luckily she doesn’t know about the special place I go when I want to be anonymous and live out all of my fantasies in secret.
Up and down my hand slides, moving faster as images of a naked Valentina spur me on.
Her tan skin is smooth as silk, and her heavy breasts sway with the roll of her hips.
Blood rushes to the head of my cock and I picture Valentina looking into my eyes just before she tips over the edge, my name dripping from her tongue.
I squeeze my dick just as I erupt all over my hand.
My chest heaves and my mouth hangs open. Looking down at the mess I’ve left on my sheets, I cringe thinking about the maid having to clean them up.
I push up on my elbows and roll my neck. If only I could start my day like this every day, I wouldn’t feel the need to visit dark places where no one, but the owner, knows your name. But I’m afraid that this will most likely be the closest I ever get to having Valentina San Ramón in my bed.
I shower off, the warm water massaging my muscles, and slip a towel around my waist when I step out. I hear my phone still going off and I can’t believe the guys are still rattling on. But when I check it, the new message isn’t from them.
Valentina: Hello Nico. If you are available, I’d like to meet today. I know it’s probably a day off for you, but I think it’s important we figure out what we’re going to do with you.
I smile but it quickly fades when I realize this is a work call. Not that I thought it would be anything else, but a guy can hope.
Me: I was actually on my way out to the gym. Wanna meet up after?
Valentina: That works for me. I’m just about to go down to my gym, as well. Where would you like to meet?
I get an idea and it guarantees I’ll get to see her without the pretense of work.
Me: How about I meet you at the gym? Two birds, one stone. We’ll work out and talk shop at the same time.
The bubbles appear and disappear, and I wait impatiently for her to respond. With one hand holding the phone, I clumsily get dressed, pulling on shorts and yanking a t-shirt off the hanger. When she finally replies, I’m halfway to falling on my face as I try to put a sock on.
Valentina: Okay. I guess that’s fine. We’ll use my gym. It’s residents only so we won’t be bothered. Text me when you’re here so I can meet you in the lobby.
Me: Leaving now.
I grab my bag while I brush my teeth, and shove a towel and extra clothes inside.
I’m running around with a sock on one foot, toothpaste froth leaving a trail with every step, and a gym bag hanging off my shoulder.
I make quick work of swishing, swiping on deodorant and finally finish putting on my other sock.
Grabbing my sneakers and my overstuffed bag, I rush out to the garage and jump in my car.
I’ve never been so excited to see a girl as I am right now. Especially one that I wasn’t planning to sleep with. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I feel giddy. At least I think that’s what this feeling is. It’s foreign yet like-able, and my stomach flutters with anticipation.
Fuck . If the guys could hear my thoughts, I’d never live it down.
This is all the ammunition they need to ruin me for the rest of my life.
I can practically hear them laughing in my ear, seeing me run around like a senseless fool for a woman.
A woman that can barely stand the sight of me, nonetheless.
It isn’t long before I’m pulling up to the same building as last night, and the same valet comes rushing to my door.
“Mr. Loving. Back again?” He asks, holding my door as I step out.
“Back again. I’m meeting Ms. San Ramón in the gym.” I reach back in and snatch my bag from the seat and discreetly pull out a twenty to pass to the valet.
“I can buzz her for you, if you’d like.” I hand him the money and tug the bag over my shoulder.
“She told me to text her when I arrived, so I’ll just wait in the lobby. Thank you.” He smiles with a nod, then slides into the driver’s seat and speeds away –carefully– in my car.
With a deep breath to calm my sudden nerves, I step through the glass doors and come face to face with the woman whose eyes make me weak in the knees.
“Oh geez,” she gasps as she slams into my chest.
“Woah. You okay?” She wobbles on her feet and I steady her, placing my hands on her biceps.
In her ears are wireless buds and her phone is in one hand. She was focused on her screen instead of where she was walking.
“I was just…” She pulls one earbud out and st raightens her shoulders, something I’ve seen her do as a habit of collecting herself. “Sorry. I was just about to text you. Ready?”
The cold mask she wears is put firmly into place. Her professional mode is rarely turned off, from what I have experienced. But I’m determined not to let last night be a one off. I’ll get her to crack, sooner or later.
“I am. Lead the way.” I don’t push her buttons because it’s far too early to get her riled up.
At least in the wrong way. I’d love to rile her up in bed, find out what makes her laugh and what makes her eyes roll back in her head.
She spins on her heels and I get my first chance to scope her out.
Her long legs are in full view as she wears a small pair of blue biker shorts, and only a black sports bra covers her breasts.
I wasn’t able to get an adequate view of her cleavage with her hands clutched to her chest, but I’ll have plenty of time for that.
I smile at the small hairs that fall from her short ponytail she’s managed to pull her hair into.
It’s youthful and softens her usual hard exterior.
Her ebony hair is usually blunt and straight, much like her attitude towards me.
But I can tell it’s all an act. Deep down, she’s not the cold woman she presents to the world.
The gym is quiet as we step in, only a handful of people. None of them look our way, each one lost in their own workout.
“I can’t take you into the women’s locker room–”
“Sadly,” I interrupt.
With a sigh and shake of her head, she continues. “But you’re welcome to set your stuff inside the men’s room. I’ll just stay here.”
She doesn’t wait for me to reply, and I hastily toss my bag in an open locker and meet her back in the main gym.
“So,” I say, clapping my hands together. “What do you usually start with?”
My voice booms through the mostly empty space, louder than I intended, and a couple people look at us. I can tell they recognize me, but make no move to stop their workouts.
“I like to run a couple miles on the treadmill. Can you talk and run at the same time?” I follow her to a row of treadmills and step on the one next to hers.
“Sweetheart…you’re forgetting who I am. I can do a lot of things while talking. Stick around and I’ll show you.” I wink and give her my winning smile, but only an eye roll is gifted back.
She presses start on her machine and bumps up the speed and incline. I do the same but increase the speed. I’m about to give this beauty a little taste of my stamina.
Our feet begin pounding the belt, our arms pumping back and forth. She’s focused on the large windows that sit across the room and look out onto the streets of Houston. They must be obscured by a tint on the outside because passersby’s don’t seem to notice.
Her lips pucker just slightly as air flows in and out, and I give myself a moment to admire her breasts as they bounce inside of her bra.
The snug material does nothing to slow the bounce and succeeds in propping her breasts high.
The outline of her nipples is faint but visible, and my eyes pick up on every detail.
A hand slams on the emergency stop button –on my machine– and I fall against the control board before landing with a thud on the now motionless belt. My knees burn from sliding over the rubber mat, and my pride is decimated.
“If this is going to be a problem, you can go right back home and forget this entire meeting.” She stands with her feet propped on the outer edge of the moving belt, her hands gripping the handle bars and keeping herself rigid.
I push up on my hands and knees and try to redeem myself by cooly standing up. I try to wipe the embarrassed look off my face and act like I didn’t just eat it.
“I apologize. I was momentarily…distracted. But I promise to focus. Now, where do we start?” She examines me like bacteria growing in a petri dish, turning up her nose slightly but also interested to find out more.
Valentina’s eyes scan me, the cogs in her brain grinding, and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Fine,” she finally says. “Monty and William are counting on me to fix you, and I won’t let them down. I need you to take this seriously. This is about your future, and if you want it to be prosperous, you’ll start to listen.”
I gulp, digesting all of her words and the reality that will hit me in the face like a steamroller if I don’t get in line with what Monty and Coach want.
I don’t want to watch someone else living my life from the bench.
I refuse to be that guy who could’ve been good if only he didn’t let the fame go to his head.
“Okay,” I concede. “Just point me in the direction and I’ll follow.”
She dips her chin then reaches over and presses a few buttons to get my treadmill moving again. I hop on and begin picking up speed. The two of us run side by side and I listen to her lay out the new plan for my life.
Is it really my life anymore?