Chapter 10
He followed me all the way home.
I knew he would. It turns out Max Callahan has a savior complex.
I honestly wish I’d had my phone up to record him running back to me.
He was sprinting, and his expression was wild.
Was he really that concerned for me? He was a different beast today.
But if I’m being honest, he’s been different since the season started.
I’m feeling a kinship with him now that I haven’t felt, and it’s very comforting.
As I pull into my allotted parking spot, Max pulls behind me in his fancy SUV. I don’t know much about cars, but I’m sure his costs more than the house I grew up in. When he jumps out, I wave him off. “Max, I’m fine. You seriously didn’t need to follow me ho —”
My words are cut off when he reaches me, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me.
Max Callahan is kissing me.
It takes me a moment, as I’m completely stunned, before I subconsciously melt into his kiss.
One of his hands stays on my cheek, while the other slides around to press against my back, pulling me snugly against him.
I sigh, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against mine.
I find my hands are bunched in his shirt, holding him in place, and I don’t remember grabbing onto the fabric.
My heart beats erratically in my chest, and I wonder if he can feel it.
The kiss isn’t frantic or incredibly passionate.
It’s tender, and perfect, and completely unlike anything I’d expect from him.
It makes me wonder what he’s like in the bedroom.
Is he like this? Loving and romantic, where he’s more concerned with my feelings than orgasms?
Or is he chaotic and a bundle of energy, manhandling me however he wants to ensure he gets his after I’ve gotten mine?
It’s at that moment we break apart, and we speak simultaneously.
“Ask me inside,” he commands, while I say, “Fraternization.”
“What?” he asks with a confused laugh.
“Rules. We can’t be together. I’ll lose my job.” I look at him, but he shakes his head.
“I mean, I know teams have those rules, but I think they’re more of a suggestion, right?
We’re all adults. Clearly, they can’t demand that two consenting adults not have a sexual relationship.
” He pauses, but continues to hold me against him.
“It’s gotta be in case a woman files a sexual harassment lawsuit.
If it’s in the rules, then the team isn’t liable for anything. ”
I’m well aware of that fact. Can’t have America’s favorite pastime coming into hot water for rape allegations.
“Yes, I’m aware of that. It doesn’t matter why they have the rules, Max.
It only matters that I’ll lose my job. I can’t lose this one.
” Even so, my body reflexively leans toward him, craving his touch and attention.
God, I want to invite him in so badly. I want to know what it’s like to be surrounded by him, to give myself over to him completely. But it’s too high-risk.
His eyes dance back and forth between mine, and I know the minute it finally sinks in, because he sighs deeply, his shoulders dropping. “We can still be friends. I’ll hike with you so you don’t break a leg or something.”
I smile sadly. “I think it’s best if we don’t have any interactions outside of work.”
He sighs again. “I figured you’d say that.”
Max steps away from me, gives me a small smile, and gets back into his car. Opening his passenger window, he shouts, “I’m not leaving until you’re inside the door.”
I shake my head while laughing as I grab my things from the back seat. Savior complex indeed.
Hobbling up to the common door for my building, I turn to wave to Max. Opening the door, I walk inside, carefully going up the stairs to my second-floor apartment, then listen as my two guinea pigs begin to make noise as I unlock the door. “Hi, girls. I know. You want food.”
Muriel and Marilyn used to be my neighbor’s guinea pigs, but when she was arrested and sent to prison for some kind of drug offense, I took the piggies.
They originally had the most ridiculous names of Brown Spot and Dippy Do, which I’d immediately changed.
I’d recently put my sweet cat to sleep, and missed having an animal in my space, so it was perfect timing.
I laugh to myself when I think about Max finding out how I acquired these critters. He’d probably blow a gasket.
Muriel continues to squeak at me until I approach with a strawberry, but Marilyn looks at me and grunts. She’s the less social one, the pig who is most likely to glare at me for some minor infraction that she’ll undoubtedly hold against me for ages.
After feeding the pigs, I’m collapsing onto my couch when I hear my phone buzz with a text. I just know it’s Max.
Sunshine
Please tell me I missed you unlocking that door, and that it isn’t unlocked all the time.
Me
I promised my mom I wouldn’t lie, so I shall remain silent.
Sunshine
Dammit, Layla. Now I’m tempted to come back there and force you to come home with me.
Me
You know that can’t happen.
Sunshine
From a safety perspective, it absolutely can. I have no problem going to Coach and telling him you’re living in squalor, so you’ll be renting a bedroom from me for the time being.
Shit. That sounds blissful. I don’t know where Max lives, but I have to imagine he’s in an amazing apartment with every amenity in the world.
Sunshine
You know I live three blocks from the field?
Sunshine
You wouldn’t even need to drive. Underground parking too. And a pool on the roof.
Sunshine
I’ll charge you less than you pay now.
Sunshine
When is your lease up?
Me
In six months.
Me
I appreciate the thought, but we’d be playing with fire. Thank you, though.
Me
Goodnight.
Sunshine
Night, Layla.
Over the next few weeks, Max and I evolve into a ceasefire of sorts. Neither of us brings up the kiss, or the conversation of more happening between us, but we don’t ignore each other either. It’s odd and awkward, and I don’t like it one bit.
As the weather begins to warm up in May, I finally settle in as the team nutritionist. Even though I was hired at the end of last season, my interactions with the team were limited throughout the winter months due to some players moving home for the off-season.
Now I’m finally getting to know the guys.
Some have extroverted personalities, like Jake Holloway, while some are grumps like Max.
I’ve got a few with incredibly peculiar likes and dislikes when it comes to food, and even some with hard limits they aren’t willing to cross.
Why is it so hard for men to understand that taste buds change throughout life?
Disliking something at the age of six doesn’t mean it’s a lifelong thing.
I used to hate mayonnaise, shrimp, and coleslaw.
I now love all of those things. How did I figure that out?
By actually trying food more than once. It seems that’s a really hard concept for men to comprehend, as most are unwilling to try again. Close-minded dummies.
So, when I’m borderline begging Dante Russo to try one bite of the egg white omelet I just whipped up, and he’s looking at me like I sprouted two extra heads, I’m all too thrilled when Max walks up, snags a bite of omelet off the plate, and pops it in his mouth.
Looking at Dante, he says, “You should try it.”
“I don’t like eggs,” Dante snaps.
Max steals another piece. “There’s enough bacon and other stuff in this that you can’t really tell it’s eggs. Plus egg whites basically don’t have much flavor, but they’re really good for you.”
Clearing my throat, I stammer, “Are you okay? Did you have a stroke or something?”
Max chuckles quietly. “No. Why?”
“Because you just told someone to eat something because it’s healthy.” I press my hand to his forehead. “Feverish, maybe? This is incredibly atypical behavior for you.”
Max rolls his eyes as he tosses another piece into his mouth. “Funny. Like I said, there’s enough bacon in there to cover the healthy eggs. Plus other stuff, but I’m not going to acknowledge any vegetables. I’m allergic to the color green.”
“You just ate multiple green things,” I say, pointing to his mouth.
He makes a big show of grabbing his throat, eyes bugging out of his head, as he pantomimes choking. “Help me, Peaches!”
“Oh, stop,” I admonish. “Every ingredient in there you’ve eaten over the past month, but I haven’t had to hear any of this until now.”
“What’s in there?” Dante asks, peering over the saucepan. His eyes dart back and forth between me and Max, and I see the moment clarity hits him, that maybe something else is going on between us. I welcome the reprieve to talk about food, hoping it’ll redirect Dante from asking any questions.
“There’s avocado, mushrooms, chopped spinach, green peppers, and bacon. I also added salt, pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder. I’d really like you to try one bite, Dante. I promise you it isn’t as eggy as you’re fearing.”
Dante lets out a loud breath, then nods. Internally squealing, I grab a new fork, add a piece of omelet, and hand it over. I watch as he thoughtfully chews. After swallowing, he says, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. Quite good, actually.”
“Told ya,” Max says, slapping him on the shoulder. He looks at me, winks, then turns back to Dante. “Gonna go get a quick workout in. See you later.”
Once Max strides away, I focus on Dante. “Would you like any more of these? And can I add this to your breakfast next week?”
Dante watches Max’s retreating back, then turns to me. “You two need to be careful.”
“Hmm?” I ask.
He points toward Max. “Whatever the two of you are doing. If management finds out, they’ll fire you. Just keeping it real, Layla. They’ll keep him because it’s cheaper to lose you.”
“Nothing’s going on between us,” I stammer, but Dante gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a word I say. “I’m serious. Nothing is going on.”