25. Nico
twenty-five
Nico
What has otherwise been an amazing week has now officially gone sideways. My brain feels about two seconds away from exploding.
The guys and I won four of our six games, keeping the Evaders in the number one slot. I added two more home runs to my record. And I’m finally making some headway with Savannah.
At least I think I am.
We’ve been texting each other every day since I left.
It started with brief insights into our days, but recently our chats have evolved into more personal conversations.
Things we like. Our pet peeves. All the little things that make Savannah who she is, and like a greedy starving man, I eat up every crumb she drops.
I’m also pretty sure she’s enjoyed the dinners I’ve had delivered to her apartment in the guise of keeping her from starting a fire while I’m gone. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so I figured the same could be said for women.
Another shot of pain hits me behind the eyes and settles in my temple, throbbing in time to my racing pulse.
I inhale and exhale slowly, trying to quell the thoughts of Savannah swirling in my head. I can’t think about her right now. Not while my brain pounds in my skull like Nick Cannon playing a drumline. Yes, I know Drumline. I grew up in a house with six women who love a good rom-com.
Just because I’m a jock doesn’t mean I don’t love a good Tom Hanks movie here and there. I just don’t go around advertising that information to people.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I stagger out of the elevator with my shoulder bag and suitcase.
Unfortunately, my head is so scrambled I lose my balance and trip over the carpet, slamming my shoulder into the wall and dropping my bag onto the floor.
“Fuck.” I groan. That’s going to hurt tomorrow.
I close my eyes against the bright overhead lights and take a deep breath. I don’t hear Savannah until it’s too late, and I can feel the heat of her body beside me.
“Nico.” Her usually snappy voice is woven with concern, and fuck, do I hate it. I don’t like people, not even my family, seeing me in the middle of a migraine. I’m supposed to be the strong one, and here I am looking pathetic and helpless. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” I don’t have the energy to stand, so I lean my head against the cool wall and take a deep breath.
“Like hell you are.” The attitude she dishes out settles over me, and if my head wasn’t about to pop, the head in my pants would.
I open my eyes a sliver to find Savannah’s worried face in front of mine.
Her hair is in a messy bun, and her face is shiny like she was wearing one of those paper face masks before bed.
The overhead light blinds me while giving her an angelic halo.
She’s so close I can see the orange and yellow flecks in her irises glow as her amber eyes search my face.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Savannah sighs as she fights back a shy smile. “Save the flirting for later, baseball boy.”
“Not flirting. Just stating a fact.”
She hums and runs her fingers through my hair. When she gently digs her nails into my scalp, shivers rush down my spine.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I grumble.
“You have a headache,” she states.
I close my eyes and jerk my chin. I regret the action instantly as another sharp pain stabs me behind my left eye.
“Migraine?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
I crack my eyes open to watch Savannah grab my duffle bag and throw it over her shoulder. “Are you going to carry me inside too?”
Savannah lifts my arm over her shoulders.
“No, you’re a giant.” I’d laugh if I weren’t in pain.
She digs her shoulder into my armpit, helping me stand, and wraps her arm around my waist, balancing my weight as she reaches for the handle on my suitcase.
“But I’m stronger than I look, so use me for balance. ”
We slowly make the ten feet to my door, where I scan my thumb over the reader and the lock disengages. Savannah leads me inside and directly to my bedroom, and without turning on the lights, she sits me on the edge of the bed.
“What’s your treatment plan?” she says over her shoulder as she walks over to the open curtains and tugs at them. Her ass jiggles beneath her pajama pants, and I can’t help staring at the way the moonlight bounces off her peach-shaped butt. “Nico?”
“I’m sorry. What?”
Savannah exhales an exasperated breath as she tugs at the fixed curtains again. “Do you take medication? Do you like cold compresses or showers?”
I rub the ache in my temple as I try to concentrate on her question.
“I already took my meds. I’ve tried it all. Sometimes things help, sometimes they don’t.”
She growls and stamps her foot in frustration as she unsuccessfully grips the drapes and pulls.
“What are you doing?”
Savannah places her fists on her hips and glares at me. “I know lights bother you, and I’m trying to close these damn curtains.”
Despite my pain and discomfort, I can feel the space behind my ribs fill with warmth, and my lips curl up. I reach for the remote and hold it up. “You need this to close them.”
“You could have said something sooner,” she snaps.
I press the button, and the long blackout curtains slide closed, covering the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. “Sorry. I’m not really thinking straight right now.”
“Shoot, you’re right. I’m sorry. You would think, me being a doctor and all, I’d be a lot calmer.” The fire leaves her pretty amber eyes, and this time I’m not annoyed at the warmth in them directed at me. She slowly but confidently marches back in my direction.
“You starting to care about me, gattina?” I tease.
Savannah’s lips twitch as she stands in front of me, close enough to touch. I stay still, ignoring the way my brain feels like it’s going to explode out of my ears. She cups my cheeks in her small hands, and I swear I can feel the pain recede from her touch alone.
The energy in the air shifts as her eyes find mine. For just a second, I can see the walls she’s erected shake, but they don’t crumble like I’d hoped they would. She needs more time. Time, I can give.
“Maybe.” She smirks at me, and I know she’s going to say something smart. “Who else is going to save me from burning down the kitchen?”
I bark a laugh at her answer, but the pressure in my head reaches its maximum, and I groan in pain. “Fuck. That hurt.”
“Omigod, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know laughing was painful for you.” Savannah pushes her thumbs into my cheekbones and massages the area with firm pressure. “What can I do to make you better?”
Savannah digs her fingertips into my temples, and it feels fucking amazing. Once again, the pain retreats to a low hum, and I know it’s because of her. Her touch. Her presence. But I don’t want her pity. I want her to touch me because she can’t keep her hands to herself.
I grip her wrists and force her to stop. “I’m okay, Savannah.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Fine. But I will be. I just need to sleep.”
“You’re right.” Savannah bites her lower lip and nods, then she stalks out of my room.
“Well, fuck.” I didn’t mean for her to go.
I stay seated on the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands. Why do I have to be so damn stubborn? I should have accepted Savannah’s help instead of chasing her away.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
The last thing I want is for her to leave. For me to be alone. I’m really fucking tired of being alone.
I pull off my shirt and throw it onto the floor as Savannah bursts back into the room with a glass full of clear liquid, surprising the hell out of me.
She’s so damn pretty in her navy flannel pajama pants and a matching sweatshirt with what I assume is her college logo spread across her perfect tits.
“You’re back.”
Her eyes rake over my chest before she glowers at me. “Of course I am. Why aren’t you lying down? It doesn’t matter.” She shoves the glass full of the mysterious contents. “I need you to drink this.”
“What is it?” I pick the glass and sniff it. It smells like syrupy sweet strawberries.
“Pedialyte.”
“Isn’t this for kids?”
“Do I need to call it an electrolyte drink to make you feel like a big boy?”
If I didn’t have a migraine, my dick would be hard as a rock. “Smartass.”
“Drink.”
I do as I’m told and drink the sickly sweet water. “That shit is gross.”
Savannah rolls her eyes. “It tastes like every other sports drink, you big baby.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Even though my stomach feels queasy, I finish the rest of the drink.
“Good boy.” She takes the glass from my hand, grazing my fingers and sending a spark through me.
My cock comes to life at the worst possible time.
Well, that’s new. I didn’t know getting called a good boy would make me hard.
“Babe, I’m gonna need you to call me that when my head isn’t about to explode and I can actually do something about it.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Savannah chuckles as she squats down between my legs and starts untying my laces, removing my shoes. Her pouty lips are too close to my dick; I can practically feel her breath on my tip.
Visions of her on her knees and my cock in her warm, wet mouth float through my head.
Thank the fucking baseball gods it’s dark as hell in the room and she can’t see the huge boner I’m sporting. I didn’t even know my dick could work in the middle of a migraine episode.
When she reaches for my pants, I stop her. “I got them.”
“Right.” She pulls her hands back quickly as if she’s been burned, and I swear I can see her cheeks turn pink in the darkened room.
Savannah excuses herself to the bathroom as I slip off my slacks and, in only my boxer briefs, I lift the duvet and slide under the cool fabric. Facing the middle of the bed, I rest my head on the silky cool pillows and close my eyes, letting myself sink into the mattress.
I listen to Savannah move around my apartment as if she’s done it a thousand times before. Like she belongs here in my space.
Something cool and wet touches my forehead, making me moan.
“Is this okay?” Savannah whispers, and her sweet voice soothes the rough edges of my discomfort more than the damp towel on my forehead. She swipes the towel over my face before she wraps the washcloth around the nape of my neck.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good. Get some sleep,” she whispers.
The bed dips, and even with my eyes closed, I can feel the heat of Savannah’s body lying close to mine.
I crack my eyes open to find her lying on the pillow beside me, her palms pressed together under her cheek, and her eyes studying my face.
She’s so close I smell her citrus-scented shampoo. My fingers itch to touch her.
“You’re staying?”
“Do you want me to go?” She bites the inside of her cheek nervously.
I want nothing more than for her to stay.
I inch closer, absorbing her heat. Her presence sends a wave of contentment washing over me, pushing away the pain in my head.
“No, stay with me.”