Chapter 19 Serena #2
This is the first thing she’s said since the game ended, and I know damn well that discussing the game play is the last actual thing on her mind right now.
“Just get to it,” I scoff.
“Okay, but the way he looked up at you afterward? Are you kidding? I could see the love in his eyes.” Looking off, her eyes glaze over, like she’s reliving the moment.
“Shut up.” I sass her, shoving her shoulder.
“If that were me … girl.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of your feelings regarding my situation.” I laugh, losing the fight to the smile tugging my lips up. “I know how you want me to handle it.”
She nods, smirking with a devious look in her eyes as we stop outside my dad’s office.
“I get it—I do. But I’m not sure what I want out of all of this yet. I still have to figure that out. It’d be easy to just jump back into bed with him, but I want to be one hundred percent sure before that happens.”
We’re probably going to have to wait a few minutes until he’s done with the guys in the locker room or finished fulfilling any after-game duties, like interviews or … whatever he does after games.
We plop down into the chairs against the wall, making ourselves at home, and we get distracted showing each other videos on social media.
A door around the bend of the hallway closes, and a few players pass by us, waving politely at us. Neither of them is Bates or his two inseparable friends.
“Oh my God, they were so cute.” Kerrigan drools, watching them turn down another hallway, out of sight.
She’s not wrong. I swear our team could double for models if they ever needed a backup career. Eventually, I’m sure they’ll do a Sinners calendar because they’d be dumb not to. I have no doubt they’d sell every copy.
That same door closes again, and Kerrigan shamelessly watches, her head turned in the direction as she tracks the sound of one person’s footsteps coming our way. Maybe it’s my dad.
Or not.
Bates comes into view, and, holy mother of God, he looks good … too good. His hair is wet, looking darker than ever. It’s messy and damp, and, ugh … I don’t know what it is about guys with wet hair, but for some reason, it’s hot.
Maybe that’s just a hockey player thing or just a Bates thing. Regardless, it’s making me want to forget about being mad for just a second longer …
My phone vibrates the same time he looks up from his, those deep blue eyes flicking over to me instantly.
“Oh good. Now I don’t have to hunt through the arena to find you.” His voice is loud, carrying down the hallway.
“Shh!” I shout-whisper. “Shut up!”
He chuckles, smirking. “Why? You embarrassed about us?”
“Bates, I swear to God …” I don’t even realize I’ve stood up until I step forward, turning to face him as he closes in, the nearness cutting off every coherent thought in my mind.
The second his body wash hits my nose, my knees wobble, and heat floods my core. I inhale again, and this time, the back of my throat burns.
I’ve missed it. Missed him.
But I won’t run back into his arms because I’m lonely.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His hand snakes around my waist, readying to lift me up into his chest, but I shove him back.
“Umm, no.” I bop his forehead. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you after the game, but I’m not here for you. I’m meeting my dad.”
He rolls his eyes, like he expected that answer. “I should have known your stubborn ass wouldn’t give in this easily. You’re going to make me earn it. And I plan to; don’t worry.”
A door swings shut in the distance, and voices echo toward us. My dad and more than likely his assistant coaches.
“You need to leave,” I whisper, looking straight up at him, anxiety creeping into my core as they get closer and closer.
A devilish grin flashes across his face. “Perfect. Let’s go.”
Without skipping a beat, he grabs my hand and tugs me behind him, dragging me as my feet slide along the tiled flooring.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper, trying to uncurl his fingers from me.
Kerrigan giggles behind us, clearly enjoying the show.
I’m going to have to yell at her later for not coming to my rescue.
“Shh. Or Daddy’s going to find out about your dirty little secret.” He chuckles, pulling me farther down the hallway, in the direction of my father.
“Bates,” I beg desperately, true panic starting to set in that my dad is going to round that corner and catch us like this.
He throws a door open to our left and steps through, bringing me along with him. Eventually, we’re going to stop having moments like this, right?
The door shuts behind us, and my back rests against the door at the same time I hear my dad greet Kerrigan in the hallway.
Shit.
“What the fuck are you doing?” My whisper is harsh, filled with rage, as I look up, searching the nearly pitch-black room for Bates’s face.
The only light filtering in is through the small vertical window on the door. But it’s doing little to help me see. Even so, I can spot his damn cocky-ass, aggravating little smirk from here.
He cages me in, his forearms pressed against the door, his hands overlapping above my head. “Getting some alone time with my girl.”
“I told you, there’s nothing going on between us.”
He rolls his eyes. “Mmhmm. That’s why you came here tonight—because you didn’t want to watch me play?”
I cross my arms over the Saint Paul Sinners crewneck. “So arrogant. Do you think everyone in that arena came to just watch you?”
Shrugging, he purses his lips with a smugness that I want to slap off his face. “Yeah, kind of.”
“You’re even crazier than I thought,” I groan, my voice louder than I intended. “You’re going to get us caught!”
Shit.
My dad’s still in the hallway, talking to Kerrigan.
Dear God, just go into his office already and help a girl out.
But of course, the conversation is starting as a Minnesotan one would, right in the doorway, slowly moving into the room after a conversation or two already passed.
“Does getting caught even scare you at all?” I ask breathlessly.
His lips graze the tip of my nose. “My real identity may be new to you, but the risk of my exposure has always been the same. Unless, of course, you’re going to go out there and tell him right now. Which I know you won’t.”
I glare at him, my heart hammering in my chest. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do,” he says confidently. “Or you would’ve already done it.”
“Shut up,” I scold him, pushing at his chest. But he doesn’t budge a millimeter against my force.
His leg slides between mine, and I hate how perfectly it presses against my core.
“You’re right. I’d love to use my mouth in other ways right now. Good idea.”
“Bates.”
Bates’s big hand slides across my jaw, covering my lips as he lowers his head, his warm breath hitting the bridge of my nose.
“Shh. Shh. Shh, Little Cupid.” He pauses, his other hand falling to the bottom hem of my crewneck, slipping under, and wrapping around my side.
“Unless you want to get caught. I know public play was one of your fantasies.”
I try to wiggle beneath his grip, but to no avail. I have the same success when I try to part my lips and get a single word out.
“So, you’re trying to be loud? You want them to hear us …” He breathes me in. “My dirty girl.”
Raising my knee, I find his groin, resting it against his weakest spot. His hips jerk from the contact, and I smile against his hand.
“Fine.” He releases my mouth and side, holding his hands up in surrender, and I lower my foot back to the ground. “You have the leash. Right?”
“Yeah.” I wipe the corners of my mouth. “So, be a good boy and get the hell away from me.”
“Mmm. Hard to when you talk to me like that. Makes me think of all the things I can do to earn a treat.” He bites down on the word, his tongue clicking on the end.
“Seriously, Bates, you have to stop doing this shit.” I exhale, feeling overwhelmed by the roller coaster of emotions coursing through me. “It’s too … confusing.”
“Tomorrow,” he states matter-of-factly.
“What?” I feel my face contort with confusion.
“Tomorrow. Come to my house. Talk to me. For real this time. No teasing …” He pauses, correcting himself. “Okay. Minor teasing. We owe it to each other. You can’t tell me you’re ready to truly throw all of this away.”
My throat burns, the words getting stuck in the swell of emotion. I want to tell him he’s wrong, to tell him off. But I can’t because he’s right.
Reaching out, his fingers run down my hairline, jaw, chin, before cradling my cheek. I lean into the touch, letting myself just chase the feeling in my chest for once and ignoring the roaring anxious words in my mind.
“I’ll text you my address and the code.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Bring Freddie. Please. I miss him.”
I don’t nod or shake my head because I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do. I know what my heart wants, and I know what logic wants. Now I just have to decide which path I’m willing to live with–being with Bates or being without him.