Chapter 19
Landon
For the next two weeks, I alternate driving down to Rori’s cottage and staying in Orlando roughly every other night.
My time in Orlando is filled with two-a-day workouts, a couple of local event appearances, and a smattering of press obligations. I’ve also started working with our defensive coaches to learn the schemes for the coming year, and have met some of the rookies on the defensive side.
My position, middle linebacker, is typically a “quarterback” on the defense, calling formations for our guys as well as making adjustments depending on what we see the offense doing. So I’m diving in for the new season.
On the nights I drive down to Rori’s place after practice, we’ve fallen into a comfortable pattern. I usually arrive around six in the afternoon, just as she’s warming up dinner. I help set the table and we catch up on our days.
Our conversations range in topics quite a bit, from the latest events in the sports world to childhood stories to our hopes for the year in our careers. Watching Rori talk with so much passion about rebuilding her rank after her injury is straight-up inspiring.
This girl is a badass.
I also treaded into the sensitive territory of the Trinity situation after a week had gone by. It felt wrong for Rori not to know, even if it was completely in the past.
We’d just finished dinner, and I ripped off the bandaid, watching her digest my description of the Vegas trip and paternity scare in real time before asking a few questions. Understandable questions.
“This was all last year? Before we met?” she asked, fidgeting with her napkin.
“Yeah, everything was resolved in December,” I reassured her. “Trinity and I haven’t spoken since then.”
She nodded, looking back up at me. “So it never hit the press?”
I shook my head. “No, we handled it privately. Quietly.”
She stopped fidgeting, but stayed silent as she processed what I’d dropped on her. I continued, wanting to provide as much reassurance as I could.
“And I’ve always used protection, like I mentioned the other night. Always.”
She was quiet for another moment and then seemed to relax. “Thank you for telling me. I know you didn’t need to, technically.”
I shake my head. “Maybe not, but it felt like I should.”
It took a beat or two, but we moved on to lighter topics soon after, and I was relieved I no longer had it hanging over my head that she didn’t know.
Rori also stepped into another part of my world over our last two nights, when she told me to bring Grover. As I walked in with him the first time, Rori squealed and picked him up, showering him with kisses.
I couldn’t help bursting out laughing as I was completely ignored. “Nice to see you too.”
Eventually, she put Grover down, and I grabbed her in a long kiss so she could welcome me properly.
“Jealous of him?” she teased when we came up for air.
“Just a little,” I joked back.
The two of them have also bonded, playing fetch with her used tennis balls in the backyard after our dinners. I’m more than happy to relax in one of the chairs by her pool and watch them play. It’s fucking cute.
And the sex. The sex is hands down the best I’ve ever had. The crazy part is that it keeps getting better. When I was here last on Thursday, we looked at each other after explosive orgasms back-to-back in awe. “What was that?” Rori whispered.
The fact is, not only do I want her more than any woman before, but I also want to spend my free time with her, hear about her day, and watch her trashy reality TV shows while holding her on the couch.
I even want to hear about her theories about her dad and coach sneaking around together.
“I’m not mad about it, truly,” Rori says when we chat about it. “Everyone’s an adult, and for all I know, it’s a short-term thing that will fade. If they’re really dating though, I wish they would come clean so I don’t have to wonder.”
“Why don’t you talk to them about it?” I ask as I wash the dishes after dinner. Having a conversation to clear the air seems like the simplest thing for her to do.
“No, that might make things more awkward,” Rori says. “I’d rather keep everything totally professional with Julie for now, in case it’s just a fling, or for all I know, something I imagined.”
I shrug, respecting where she’s coming from. I can see both sides.
“As long as it doesn’t mess with my tennis, and nobody gets hurt, it’ll be fine,” she says dismissively.
It’s a typical Rori decision. Unless it’s on reality TV, she doesn’t like drama, which on the whole is something I appreciate.
And the fact that I know that about her is telling—reinforcing that this situation is like nothing I have experienced before. Rori’s definitely a true friend now.
That must be why the sex is off the charts, I tell myself on the drive here. We actually care about each other, so that intensifies things.
Our routine is coming to an end though, because tomorrow Rori leaves for the UK.
She has a week of training there, followed by one warm-up tournament and then the big one in London.
She’ll spend an entire month away. When she comes back, I’ll need to stick to Orlando most of the time as my football responsibilities ramp up.
I look up at her as she dances around the kitchen, heating up a pre-made meal.
I’ll miss her, but I’m also excited for her.
She’s officially now #8 in the world, and with a boat load of points in the next few tournaments, could take a step up again.
She told me one night last week that her goal was to be top 5 for the year.
“Julie and I had originally set top 10 as this year’s target, but I already reached that,” she whispered with a look of disbelief. “So we set a new goal.”
I also had a surprise to reveal tonight that might help offset the abrupt change of not being able to see each other for weeks.
“Food is ready, superstar,” Rori says from the kitchen. We sit down at the table as she pushes my plate of chicken parm in front of me.
“This is what I’m talking about,” I say, starving after seven hours of workouts today.
As we eat, she shares about an interview she had with one of the big sports channels earlier.
“The reporter, Carolyn—she was so complimentary, and the actual interview went fine. But she also kept trying to pry into my personal life when we were off camera. Maybe she wanted a scoop about my dating life? It was so obnoxious,” Rori says with a snort.
“Huh, I can honestly say I’ve never had a reporter ask me who I’m dating,” I respond after thinking about it for a minute. “Just pictures in the tabloids.”
“Welcome to being a female athlete,” Rori says as she rolls her eyes.
“So what did you say?” I ask, curious.
“I told her, ‘that’s for me to know and you never to find out,’” Rori says with a huge grin.
I burst out laughing. “You did not say that.”
“I did, I did. But I laughed, and she laughed. I don’t think she was offended.”
“Okay good,” I say, still smiling as I stick my fork into another bite.
A minute goes by as we finish our meals, and Rori sets her fork down. She reaches across the table and gently rests her hand on mine.
“Landon, I’ve had the best time the last two weeks. I just want to say that.”
“Me too, beautiful,” I respond as I flip my hand over and gently hold hers.
“Is it going to be weird not to see each other, you think?” Rori asks with a slightly anxious tone.
“Yes, it might be, but as long as we keep talking and texting, we are going to be good. Exclusive ‘no label’ status intact,” I tease to defuse some of her stress, and she giggles.
“Maybe we should FaceTime sometimes,” Rori suggests. “It’ll basically be like chatting over our dinners here.”
“I’d like that,” I agree, squeezing her hand. “Also, there’s one more thing.”
“What?” she asks.
I hesitate, not certain how she’s going to react. I hope this doesn’t seem presumptuous of me.
“I do have a break from some of the mandatory activities right when you’re going to be in the thick of Wimbledon. If it’s alright, I’d like to come to London and watch a round or two during the last week of the tournament.”
She starts to answer, but I keep going. “You won’t need to host me or anything. I would get a hotel room and my own tickets. I just didn’t want to show up without asking if that would be okay.”
“Okay,” Rori says as she processes. “Yeah, I think that would be okay. I don’t know when I could see you exactly, but having you there would be really nice.”
“Just nice?” I question with a grin.
“It would be lovely,” Rori jokes, saying the last word with an English accent.
“We’ll need to keep things low key because of the press too, but I’m excited to see you crush it, baby.”
“Come here,” Rori orders, her voice deepening with the command. I meet her eyes and see a certain look that promises a good night.
I stand up and walk around the table, and she stands up to meet me. Grabbing me by the neck of my t-shirt, she pulls me down and locks our lips together. I sink into the kiss and wrap my hands around her back, closing any remaining space between us.
After a couple of minutes, we break apart, and Rori rests her hand on my upper arm gently. “It’ll be great to have you there. Thank you for thinking of everything.”
I plant a kiss on the tip of her nose and we walk to her couch for our last night of reality TV for a while, holding each other’s hands.
The next morning I plan to leave at seven, my normal time. I want to give Rori a little space to finish packing and get organized for the long trip.
We wake up about an hour before and quickly reach for each other in the breaking morning light. Everything is gentle and slow to start, as I enter her at a leisurely pace.
“You feel fucking perfect, Rori. Everything with you is another level,” I confess while pushing inside her.
She doesn’t say anything in return, just kisses me hard.
As I feel her getting close, her pussy squeezing me tight, I pick up my pace. Soon we are both toppling over the edge in each other’s arms. The intimacy of the experience is undeniable.
I hug her as we both come down from the intensity and bury my head in her neck.
“I’ll miss you, babe.”
“Me too, Landon,” she says softly into my ear. “I can’t wait to see you in London.”
“Me neither,” I say back.
Holding her in my arms, my head still resting in her neck, I make a confession.
“It’ll be tough not being able to do this for the next few weeks. But I’m starting to realize that some things are worth the wait, Rori.”
Soon afterwards, I force myself up, walk Grover in her backyard, and say our final goodbye.
“I’ll text you when I land,” Rori promises.
“Fuck that, text me before you take off.” I laugh. “No seriously, write me as much as you want.”
Rori’s face breaks out in a big grin. “Okay, I will.”
And then I hit the road for Orlando.