Chapter 7
Rori
When Landon first came into my dressing room, I was stunned to see him. I was also fearful that he’d cause a scene by confronting me about not returning his text.
His behavior ended up being the opposite of hostile though, and my nerves started to calm down. His playful, flirty manner only bothered me because it sparked my attraction to him again, but it was much better than him being angry or upset.
By the time I walk on set, I’m settled into a more neutral place.
Of course, doing a photo shoot with him touching me while shirtless has my hormones anything but neutral now.
Following John’s directions, I am “stuck” staring into Landon’s eyes, peeking down at his tanned, bare chest, taking in the sensations of his hand against mine and consuming his distinctly masculine scent.
Needless to say, my brain is shutting down.
I cannot be mad at myself for my reaction. This is torture—the best kind.
The man is sexy. Memories of our night together keep flooding in with his closeness.
Still, I do my best to stay focused on what the photographer wants and to get into the zone. Like I’m in a tough match on the court, I start with mental tricks to center myself.
Only this time, it’s me versus my hormones. It doesn’t help that I haven’t hooked up with anyone since our night together on New Year’s.
After a million pictures, John calls for a break. Landon relaxes his stance, but instead of releasing his hand, he threads his fingers gently through mine and gives my hand a soft squeeze.
“You were perfect, Rori, the photos are going to be amazing,” Landon says with a whisper, so only the two of us can hear.
The photo assistants don’t recognize the moment that we’re having and come forward to guide us into our respective dressing rooms. Landon drops my hand, and we both go with our minders.
Well, that was an interesting first session.
Five minutes later my phone dings.
NEW YEARS: So, will you return my texts now?
It’s Landon, labeled with the nickname he gave himself that night.
No avoiding this topic, I guess.
Being honest with myself, I know that I’d totally overreacted when I ignored his message. The night was so incredible, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I wasn’t sure where to place my lingering thoughts about him, while I was focused on starting the tennis season strong.
Then it became a “thing.” How can you break the ice after not replying for a few days?
Yeah, I refuse to go down the road where a guy distracts me from my goals. But would a few text messages with Landon really have done that? I don’t think so.
In fact, sitting here now, the whole thing feels pretty weak of me, something I’d normally not permit for myself. Plus, he’s been so chill about everything today, not making things awkward.
Determined not to overthink things, I reply simply.
RORI: Yes
He “hearts” the reply, and my phone is silent for a few minutes.
In the meantime, I’m suddenly aware that the wardrobe assistant is putting me into a skimpier turquoise outfit. My cleavage is in full effect and the shorter spandex shorts show off my butt.
“Your body is insane,” Clara whispers to me as she puts my hair up into a high ponytail. “Own it."
She isn’t the only one who notices the showier second outfit. Nina scooches over towards where I’m seated and checks in. “Everything going okay? You comfortable with this outfit? John’s a professional, and the shots are looking fantastic so far.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I reassure her, not able to explain that the only reason I would be self-conscious about revealing clothes is because I’m in the shoot with my secret one-night stand.
Nina nods and starts going over one of the proposals that she brought with her.
A sports drink that rotates in different athlete’s endorsements every couple of years is offering a deal.
It’s a standard offer, or so Nina attests.
I start tuning out a little, chewing on whether I should write more to Landon.
“I’m really sorry that I didn’t respond to your text,” I start in a new message. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t have a great time with you. There’s a lot of pressure on me now to stay focused.”
I don’t hit send. The words just sit there.
“All done on hair,” Clara says. “But it seems like they need more time to set up the next staging, so stay put, okay?”
“Sure,” I say, and Nina continues going over another promotion opportunity—this time for a chocolate bar.
“I don’t think that’s very me,” I tell her. “Chocolate is life, but I want my partnerships to stay geared toward more health-oriented products.”
“I get it,” Nina says. “Let me check on one detail with the third proposal I brought, and then we can talk about that if we have time.” She leaves the room to make a call.
Which means that I’m alone with my cell phone and my unsent message.
My brain revisits the cause of the guilt I’ve been feeling.
Was Landon hurt by my not returning the message, even though it was just a one-night stand?
Would it help for me to clarify? At least then the air would be cleared, and we could be friendly in situations like today when we end up at the same events together.
The mature thing is to message him the apology, I tell myself. And so I hit send.
I let out a nervous sigh. Something about Landon shakes my confidence.
Normally with guys, I can keep even emotionally and not really care if things don’t work out. But with Landon, I want…something. Maybe it’s guilt influencing me, but I’m struggling to feel casual about how he responds.
After about ninety seconds, a message comes through.
NEW YEARS: No one understands pressure better than another professional athlete, Rori. And no worries, but I will say that I’ll never think of New Year’s without thinking of you.
I blush a little, which I hope no one notices, and type back: “Same.”
Suddenly, I remember the man at the Australian Open that looked so much like him. With everything that happened this morning, my brain didn’t click on that memory until now.
Yeah, I want to know if it was him. I don’t love unanswered questions like that.
RORI: So I thought I saw someone that looked like you at the Aussie Open. Was that you? Sorry if this seems random.
NEW YEARS: No, you’re right. My brother and I came to one of your matches on our trip. I didn’t want to bug you, but it was awesome watching you do your thing.
RORI: Okay cool.
So I hadn’t been imagining things. His close-cropped haircut on his trip had made me think maybe it was someone else, especially with his curls back to their normal length today.
Sigh. I really liked putting my hand through those curls on New Year’s. Tugging on them, while his head was between my legs.
RORI: BTW, keep the hair grown out. Like it is now. Just a suggestion.
NEW YEARS: Yes, ma’am.
A short time afterward, they’re ready for us on set.
With this turquoise outfit cut in a much more revealing style than the first one, a wardrobe assistant hands me a short robe to wear over it.
The thought of Landon seeing so much of my skin again momentarily sends a shiver down my spine, but I push the thought away.
The new set is largely cream in color, mixed in with a pale version of the turquoise of my outfit. Still quite simple, so the focus can be on us.
As I check my phone to keep myself busy, I hear footsteps and some chatter in the background. Looking up, there’s Landon, walking in with a couple of people from the photo team.
The wardrobe staff have also put him in a robe, too. Hmm.
He seems to be shirtless under it, so it’s hard to tell what outfit he’s wearing.
Catching me looking, he brings his eyes to mine and smiles.
“Apparently, they stepped things up for both of us. This robe might be the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn,” he jokes.
“Okay, everyone’s here again, great,” John observes as he steps towards the main part of the set.
“Yes, do you want me to help get them in position?” one of his photo assistants asks.
“Please,” John says.
“Mr. Battle, why don’t you come over here,” the assistant continues, leading Landon to the spot where they want him to stand. “And if you don’t mind, let’s take off that robe?”
Landon nods, unbelts the robe, and after slipping it off, hands it to her.
My eyes widen when I see what’s underneath.
He’s in tight spandex athletic shorts that are a blend of the turquoise I’m wearing with a navy shade, and these shorts—they hide nothing.
Every muscle Landon has worked for is on display, including the well-defined V marking his lower stomach that I didn’t quite appreciate as much as I should have in his dark hotel room on New Year’s. His leg muscles are tree trunks, cut even more so than I remember.
And muscles are not the only thing on show. A very notable bulge is evident in the front of the shorts, reinforcing that Landon is not lacking in any department.
I think that I’ve forgotten to breathe when I hear a voice call my name.
“Miss Reilly, can you come to this spot here? And I’ll grab your robe as well.”
I clear my throat and pivot my eyes to the assistant giving me instructions. “Sure, here you go,” I say as I walk to my spot and take off the robe.
Landon’s body shifts slightly as I shed my robe. I try to avoid looking directly at him, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that he is immediately repositioning himself, standing up a little straighter.
Is he as affected, seeing me in this teensy, tight outfit, as I was seeing what he is wearing?
Realizing that I’m prolonging the inevitable, I turn to him and catch the expression on his face. His eyes look different from this morning. More intense, heavier in their gaze. And I swear his pupils have blown a little wider.