Chapter 12
Lex
It’s painfully early when I park myself in the last seat of the jet. This way I know I’ll be facing forward, and my head won’t spin.
Ally, Corey, and Dad sit at the front, and Hawk takes a dive for the couch and makes Derek’s stony face crack even if only for a second. Vinny, Si, Uncle Paul, and Aunt Elle sit at the front, near and next to Dad, and Wolf and CJ sit right in front of me.
Even with everyone speaking in low tones, the plane’s too loud, too crowded.
After three full days where I could get away with Eli and let the silence act as a healing balm to my brain, it’s jarring, so I take a few deep breaths and try to get my head in the right headspace.
I didn’t get much time with Eli yesterday, or in the few hours that have passed from today.
I don’t understand Eli’s work as well as I probably should, but he had to spend half a day at his office yesterday because he wanted all his employees to have Christmas Day free, and there has to be someone there at all times.
Hearing his earnest explanation while he chewed his bottom lip nervously only made me fall deeper in love with him, which I realize is an impossibility I’m going to have to get used to.
He was nervous that I would get mad at him for having to leave, and to offset that, I just shut him up with my lips and loved watching a pretty blush spread over his cheeks.
There were more kisses, though neither of us had the courage to kiss in front of our family, and we did get one hour of opening presents with everyone decked out in the matching festive pajamas Mom got for everyone.
The memory does what it’s supposed to, and I can breathe easily when I hear the flight attendant ask us to buckle our seatbelts and get ready for takeoff.
I’m as calm as I’m going to get, and let all the quiet conversations wash over me while everyone else talks quietly.
When we’re levelled off and the Wi-Fi comes on, I go looking to see if Eli has posted anything recently, figuring it’s been enough time that I can enjoy his honesty online again.
The memory of him telling me how he’s perpetually online wants to take up space in my mind, but I just know that would have me blushing and I don’t need anyone seeing that, so I shove it away.
The algorithm is scarily good because I see a reply from Eli right there.
A fan of Vinny’s posted a picture of him—my guess is that it was after the game against New York had ended. Vinny’s drenched with sweat, his helmet in his hand, and has a pleased smile on his face that looks exactly like Dad’s. He looks satisfied with his white uniform askew.
@eagle21supremacy
look at him and weep!!! this is the hottest man alive
@eliellsworth @ivalsupremacy
counter: look at this boyish greek god
Eli’s simple response has a picture of me, yesterday morning, in those ridiculously comfy pajamas.
I was sitting on the floor, smiling like a little kid as I was unwrapping a gift from Mom.
In the background, part of the huge Christmas tree is visible on one side and the roaring fireplace on the other.
I can’t help but feel a ridiculous prideful thrill at being called a Greek god by Eli. I think anyone would feel that way, so I’m not even ashamed.
The fact that Eli thinks of me this way is . . . more than I think I’m worth, if I’m honest. He’s not only unfairly gorgeous and terrifyingly smart, but he’s also kind and has a confidence that few deserve.
He exists like he doesn’t owe the world anything, least of all an apology for who he is.
That’s probably the most attractive thing about him.
Or maybe it’s how he looks at me, like he sees every part of me and every part is not only acceptable but something to cherish.
A new standard settles in my mind—I’m going to become a man who’s worthy of that, of him.
Thanks to exceptionally bad post-Christmas traffic, even by LA’s standards, I’m late for afternoon practice even though we landed three hours before.
But no one utters a single word when I arrive at the practice rink.
I get enough hate-filled glares to understand that the chances of me getting out of here unscathed are decreasing by the second.
It helps that I score two goals the next day, and that Dad lets me convince him not to show up to the game against San Francisco. None of them know just how pissed he is yet, and I’d rather keep it that way for as long as possible.
The good thing is that the next two games are away, Seattle and Vancouver.
We eke out a win against a very bad Seattle team and then lose against Vancouver on New Year’s Eve.
The game starts early, though, so we’re on our flight back to LA with four hours till midnight.
I’m still braced to have the worst New Year’s of my life, alone at my apartment since Dad and Ally are going to some fancy Hollywood party and Wolf and Hawk are at their ranch.
Malibu isn’t that far from my apartment in Santa Monica, but since we land at ten, with it being the last day of the year and all, I know it would take me more than two hours to get there unless I ordered a chopper.
It just seems like too much of a hassle considering I have practice the next day.
I get through the routine of every teammate, trainer, and coach acting like I’m invisible, and then just make my way home.
I don’t bother with the lights, so I’m instantly on high alert after I toe my shoes off, when I realize there’s a soft glow coming from around the corner of the foyer.
Did I leave a lamp on?
No, I always double check, and my cleaning service hasn’t come since I left for the mini roadie.
A list of potential weapons to protect myself flits through my mind, but I’ve got nothing. Especially because the glow is coming from the kitchen and living room, and that’s the only place where I’ve got knives.
I also debate just turning back, calling 911, but a soft scuffing sound pulls me forward. Later, I’ll remember and I’ll have no idea why it did, but I put one foot in front of the other like I’ve got nothing to lose.
“Jesus, Eli!” I snap, before the scene in front of me even makes sense.
“Fuck,” he shouts, and straightens from where he’s kneeling by the coffee table, then he raps his back against the corner of the couch. His next shout could be of pain or surprise. I rush forward.
“Are you okay?” I ask, cupping his cheek when I reach him and drop down next to him.
“Sure,” he says, wincing but sounding happy enough. “Just scared ten years off my life, but otherwise yeah, I’m fine.” He twists his torso and pokes at his back before turning to me.
Maybe gasping is overdramatic, but he looks amazing in this light . . . like he’s glowing from within, like an . . .
“Angel,” I whisper, then fall into him.
His lips mold to mine instinctually, and when I wrap my arms around his middle, his body melts into mine. Our torso’s fused, I pull him with me when I fall back onto the thick rug of the living room.
I don’t know how it’s possible for him to be here, but why should I care?
The end result is that he’s in my arms.
When he pulls back, rests his hands on either side of my head and smiles down at me, I understand that few things matter when I can see how his eyes soften when he looks at me. There’s a quiet adoration that doesn’t compute.
“Missed me?” he asks teasingly.
“I did.” There are no longer any reasons to hold back, to lie or deflect. I can simply cup his cheek and stare right back. “Not that I mind the surprise at all, but how did you get in? Where’s Austin?”
“He’s at a hotel and Ruko let me in.”
“Remind me to thank him later,” I whisper as I pull him back down and feel him sink into the kiss again.
It could be an hour later, maybe only five minutes pass.
The midnight deadline has lost all its importance.
All that matters is Eli’s lips, Eli’s hands, Eli’s hard cock pressing against my stomach, and Eli’s moans.
But when he pulls back and I surface back to reality, it takes me an embarrassing minute to catch up to what he’s saying.
“Will you fuck me, baby?”
“Yes.” No hesitation at all, because why would I fucking stutter? I get a good grip under his thighs and stand with him in my arms.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice light and . . . happy. When I look I see the corner of his eyes crinkling with that happiness too, and his platinum hair glows like liquid gold in the candlelight.
God, he’s gorgeous.
I kiss him again, needing the contact, needing him.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper, unable to separate our lips completely.
“Believe it,” he says, a laugh in his voice. “But put me down, please, I—”
“No, I want you in my bed.” The sudden, desperate need to have him there, to have that memory of him here makes me stumble. “Shit.”
“Lex,” Eli breathes out, a groan and a laugh somehow mixed in his tone. “Too tight.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I set him down carefully, but he keeps his hands on my shoulders and looks up at me with his patented shit-eating grin.
“So you want me in your bed, huh?”
“I do,” I whisper without shame, but after a fraction of a second, a new must appears on my to-do list.
One day, standing exactly like we are right now, somewhere prettier hopefully and wearing anything other than sweatpants, I’m going to say those exact words again. I’ll mean them just as much as I do right now.
Someday, everything will be okay.
Now, though, Eli’s looking pensive, with his head tilted just so, as he cards his fingers through my hair.
“I love how your brain works,” he whispers, and a smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. It’s the best compliment I could ever get from him. “And I love the bed idea, but I had a whole thing planned here with the candlelight, the windows, and the fireworks.”
There’s no fighting the smile that takes over my face.
I just pick him up again and turn to walk us to my room. I think, briefly, about mentioning that my bedroom also has big windows and a view of the Pacific, but why would I talk when I can simply enjoy the feel of Eli kissing my neck and cheek sweetly?