Chapter 4
“I’m gross,” I told him at his front door, after watching him arrange my golf bag against one of the foyer’s walls. “All I want to do is shower.”
“You up for hanging out, maybe watching a movie after you shower?”
“Let’s do it.” I agreed easily.
I must’ve lingered in the shower or something, because by the time I found him in the living room, everything was set up. The movie was queued up on the television, the sofa was littered with throw blankets, and snacks and drinks were arranged on the cocktail table.
“Hey,” I said.
The way his eyes took me in made me feel simultaneously sexy and self-conscious. He looked at me like I was something good to look at. I fiddled with the hem on my sleep shorts.
“What’s up? Have a seat. Get a blanket, a snack, a drink—whatever you need and let’s do this.”
“Where are you sitting?” I asked him. “I mean, this is a date, right? I wanna spend some of my time cupcakin’ wit’ you.”
He grinned at me. Then he plopped down on the sofa, his back against the corner.
One of his legs was stretched out along the sofa cushion, the other bent at the knee with his foot on the floor.
He patted the area between his open legs.
I sat with my back against his chest. Grabbing the remote from the cocktail table, I started the movie Just Wright.
His hands rested easily on my exposed thighs.
Sometimes, they rested there, still; sometimes, he ran his hands along my skin.
I nestled into him and settled in, enjoying the hardness of his muscular frame behind me.
He wore loose basketball shorts, and sometimes my hands found his exposed skin.
Sometimes, I picked up one of his hands and kissed the back of it.
Sometimes, I kissed his palm. Sometimes, he kissed my neck.
At others, he touched my hair or the exposed slice of my stomach.
It was intimate, unhurried, exploratory, and felt led by curiosity rather than lust.
When the movie ended, I felt conflicted about what should happen next. But after a bit of thought, I decided to sleep in the guest room. Alone. Things with Preston had been all sex, all the time. If I wanted something different with Kaynaan, I was going to have to move differently.
The next morning started early. The chef came by and made us a healthy and substantial breakfast. After eating, we headed out for the parade kick-off site. The roadway leading to the starting point was already lined with alumni, residents, and guests.
Kaynaan was momentarily whisked off to do an interview with a local news station, as well as with a member of Londynville University’s journalism team. He left me with a university ambassador who took my coffee order and was back with my drink before Kaynaan finished his interviews.
When it was time to board the float, Kaynaan helped me up first before climbing on himself. He grinned down at me, obviously caught up in the excitement of the day. “Look at you, out here supporting me and reppin’ the LU like you went here.” He leaned in and kissed my lips.
I resisted the urge to touch them and, instead, gave him a smile.
I knew he was referring to my outfit—a maroon and gold Londynville University sweatshirt over a white collared blouse that I’d paired with a gold miniskirt and maroon and gold gym shoes.
I wore a Londynville University baseball cap on my head and shades on my eyes.
I shrugged my shoulders at him. “When in Rome.”
He pulled me into a hug, and I lingered there.
There was something that felt so safe about being in his arms. I heard the band start playing and knew that the parade was starting.
The float lurched forward, and we broke apart.
We both waved and tossed swag out into the waiting crowd as the float made its way along the parade route.
The parade and the game where Londynville took the win over Joplin University didn’t owe me a thing.
We did a late lunch with Mr. Israel and Shiloh.
Then the three of them gave me an impromptu tour of the campus.
We parted ways with them in the early evening.
They were both headed home. Kaynaan and I planned to go back to his house, change, and hit the concert later that night.
The second my foot crossed the threshold of his foyer, I turned to him. “Kaynaan.”
His chuckle made me chuckle. “What’s up, Wyn? You tired? You not up for going to this concert tonight?”
“I’m so tired,” I admitted on a sigh.
He laughed aloud. “It was a long day, and we were out in the hot sun. That can definitely be draining.”
“But why are you looking so fresh? You look like you still have energy to burn.”
“Come on, Brown Eyes. Don’t insult me. I do still have energy to burn. I’m an athlete. Stamina has never been a problem.”
“Can the chef come and cook for us?” I whined. “I’m tired of eating restaurant food. And can we have another movie night? But not on the couch, in the bed?”
He raised one eyebrow independently of the other. “You trying to lay in my bed?”
“Maybe.”
He glanced up at the ceiling, then back at me. “You laying in my bed with me might just make this my best date ever.”
“Aww, you say sweet stuff.”
He didn’t respond; he just pulled me into an embrace. I tried not to melt.
Later, after we were both freshly showered and dressed for sleep, we lay in his Alaskan king bed.
Being silly, I star-fished, stretching both my arms and my legs as wide as I could.
“I am still not touching you,” I commented as he chuckled at my antics.
“Where do you buy sheets to fit this big ass bed?”
That made him laugh. “Why? You thinking about getting one for the crib?”
“Absolutely not.” I rolled over so that I was closer to him. Not touching, but closer. “It’s just me in my bed. I don’t need all this . . . real estate.”
He reached out and pulled me even closer to him.
My hand landed on his chest, and our knees made contact.
“I like you, Wyn.” He shook his head like the idea of that surprised him and pleased him at the same time.
“I don’t know if I’ve been in the league too long, if I’ve been spending time with the wrong women, or what.
But you’re like, a breath of fresh air, and you got a brother feeling like he needs to be on oxygen. ”
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks in a blush, before I leaned over and kissed his lips lightly. We’d done that a couple of times throughout the day—kissed each other’s lips. I was developing a slight addiction for his lips. They were soft and full. “You say sweet things,” I told him.
“Before I go out and buy your ass a ring, tell me something about Wyndi. I know how you got started doing what you do for a living. I know you were raised as an only child and that your grandfather is a live wire.”
I giggled. “Understatement.”
“But tell me what you like to do, besides whup ass at golf. You like to travel? Shop? Listen to murder mystery podcasts? Women seem to love that. Both of my sisters are always talking about some cold-case podcast they listen to.”
“Nah, I’m too scary to listen to murder mystery anything.” I shook my head vehemently. “I like to travel, but I don’t do it as much as I would like. I like to shop, but I was on a no-spend fast for most of this year.”
“What’s that?”
“You know how people fast from certain foods? Like, they’ll go on a juice fast or an all fruits and veggie fast? I went on a fast from spending unnecessary money. Anything that wasn’t mandatory, like food, bills, or personal essentials—I didn’t buy it.”
“Okay. What made you do that?”
“You know I’m self-employed. I don’t have a safety net or anybody to back me up if things go south financially. So I’ve been working to put myself in a more stable and solvent position. I wanna get into real estate. I’ve been saving to buy my first piece of rental property.”
“That’s what’s up, Brown Eyes.”
He seemed really impressed, which made me feel good right up until I remembered that I blew a good portion of what I’d saved for a down payment.
“Yeah, I was doing good, until I stupidly went into my savings to pay for the birthday my . . . he’s not even really my ex.
Until I threw away money on the party that Preston didn’t even want. ”
“You wanna talk about that?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I did something dumb as hell that I wish I could forget. Unfortunately, every time I revisit my goals and my gameplan, I’m reminded that I postponed my own future for somebody who was never supposed to be part of it.”
“Listen, the last thing I wanna do is talk about Wilcox’s bitch ass, but I gotta ask. What made you do that? Were you trying to take the relationship to the next level? Were you trying to prove, . . . I don’t know, . . . something to him?”
I chuckled humorlessly. “Actually, I was trying to be supportive and make him feel better. The party was a last-minute decision.” I sighed.
“About a month before his birthday, he thought he was getting a new endorsement from a tech company about some new headphones that were coming out. Not to put his business in the streets—”
He cut me off with laughter. “I’m the streets now?”