9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Daylight is streaming through the sheer curtains.
Daylight. Not early morning light, but full-on daylight.
“Fuck,” I mumble. I take a second to get my bearings. The stylishly decorated room, thick comforter, clothes that aren’t my own. My head is pounding. I’d forgotten how the aftermath of the panic attacks affect me. My phone is nowhere to be found and there is no clock in this room.
A pitcher full of water and a glass and a small bottle of ibuprofen are on the nightstand. How did he know? Did I say something last night during the attack? Or after about the headaches?
I step out into the hall and make my way to the kitchen. Nandy is sitting at the table reading a book.
“Hey,” I say.
He looks up and smiles at me. “Hey.” Then he stands and heads to the kitchen. “Are you a coffee drinker?”
“I don’t trust anyone who isn’t.”
He grins again and pours me a mug.
“What time is it…” just as I ask, I see the clock over the stove. “Fuck! Is that right?”
Nandy nods. “It doesn’t matter. Everything is still frozen to a standstill. That’s why I let you sleep.”
“Where is my phone?”
Nandy retrieves it from the charger he attached it to at some point. “It’s been blowing up. I finally silenced it and charged it for you.”
I nod and take it from him. Exhaling, I unlock it and stare at the ridiculous number of texts, missed calls, voice mails.
I put it back down. I can’t deal with any of that before coffee.
I’m not sure where to begin. How to thank him for last night. How to express how nobody can ever know. I glance around the apartment. My vision was so blurred last night.
“This is beautiful, yours?”
He nods.
I stroll over to the wall of floor to ceiling windows facing the lake. Everything looks white or, even worse, clear. Despite the highly filtered sun, everything appears frozen and sparkling. A battle being waged. I say a silent prayer for the sun to win out.
The sound of the door opening fast and shutting hard draws both our eyes to the hall where whoever this intruder is will appear in a matter of seconds. Nandy doesn’t seem worried. Annoyed. Definitely annoyed. He stands and moves away from the table.
I eye him. Is he increasing his distance from me for a reason?
When a man appears…I wonder. I wonder if this is a jealous boyfriend. Is Nandy going to utter those dreadful words “it’s not what you think” which, in this case, it very much isn’t? Because I am wearing his clothes, we are both disheveled and there is no place else I could have possibly stayed last night given the conditions. Well, let his thoughts run wild.
“Oh, thank God, I was stuck at the club all night and you would not believe who—” he stops when he spots me sitting at the table, my hands still holding fast to my hot mug of coffee.
A tiny pang of jealousy? Something hits my belly. It burns, and it’s uncomfortable. And I don’t like it. I don’t do jealousy. I’ve never cared enough about anyone for it to even be an issue. I don’t do relationships. And what happened with Nandy last night is way more important to me than what I showed up here wanting. But still. This quiet alone, private time with him, I’m not ready to relinquish that.
I’m not sure how to read the look on Nandy’s face. This man is something to him. And he seems disturbed by the intrusion, too.
“Fynn,” he exhales and gestures toward me, but doesn’t look at me. “This is TJ.
“TJ, Fynn,” he gestures back.
Fynn heads my way with his hand extended while his eyes stroke all over me in a shameless once over and way too early in the morning eye fucking. Suddenly he stops and his eyes go wide just before he gets close enough to reach my hand.
“Wait… the TJ?” He turns his attention to Nandy as do I.
Nandy doesn’t meet either of our eyes. He simply nods.
I can’t control the grin or the warmth erupting in my body. He’s been thinking about me. Talking about me with this person named Fynn. This person who is free to waltz into Nandy’s apartment unannounced and without knocking. They were discussing me. Before last night. Before I showed up.
I stand and grab Fynn’s outstretched hand. His eyes grow even wider and then fill with a devilish look as he takes in my full height. I recognize him.
“Oh my,” he says, barely audible.
He turns to Nandy. “Well, your night was clearly way better than mine.”
Nandy shakes his head. I’m prepared for the denial, the nothing happened, nothing is going on protest.
“Yep,” Nandy takes a swallow of his coffee. “I’m pretty sure this room is the only one we didn’t have sex in, and we were getting there before you busted in…. I thought I taught you how to knock.”
I grin at Nandy, and he looks my way and winks. I laugh and shake my head.
Fynn looks disappointed. That blatant lie Nandy just told revealed the entire truth to Fynn. More than an actual denial of sex would have. Nice move. It also makes clear Nandy will say nothing more on the subject.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were home safe. I heard they cut the concert short, and some people didn’t make it home. The hotels were overrun, and people slept in the lobbies.”
He turns back to me and sits at the table, places his chin in hands and looks at me again. I sit back down.
I meet his green eyes and take in his face. Dark eyeliner still completely lines those eyes. The lids covered with a dark shadow, both of which make those green eyes pop. The photo I saw. This is the man Nandy was kissing. The only man I’ve ever been able to find Nandy photographed with, other than his manager. His makeup is barely smudged, though fatigue has tinged his eyes red…the long night, the storm.
Stuck at the club, he had said. I wonder if he is a dancer. The makeup is excessive, like someone who is on stage would wear. Heavier than Nandy wears, but he wears makeup on stage too. The thought makes me look Nandy’s way again. That’s what is different this morning. He removed all of his makeup and now he is dressed similar to me, wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and sweats. His dreads are pulled back into a ponytail. God, he is beautiful.
As I look at those blond-dipped dreads and then back at Fynn, whose thick, short hair is spiked atop his head. The jet-black roots set off the blond tips he has, and I see the two of them doing this together. Another pang of something hits my belly again. What the fuck is this? It’s disconcerting. I don’t like it.
Fynn’s skin looks creamy, flawless, and his lips are full and pouty. He was probably clean-shaven last night. He isn’t now. Morning stubble graces his firm jaw, and I find it even more intriguing with all the makeup. He’s pretty. He’s sexy. Like, really, really sexy. And he is all man. Sex appeal is oozing out of him…. I’m curious what the man beneath the mask of makeup really looks like. He enjoys being looked at. I can see that by the twinkle in his eyes.
I have never been attracted to a man before Nandy. I know a good-looking man when I see one. I’ve never balked at that. Nandy stirs things inside of me I’ve never felt before. And now Fynn, this man I’ve never laid eyes on before, who has likely fucked and may well be fucking the man I want, is also making me see things in a different light.
“So, what brings the hockey God to town?” he asks, and I grin again, the reminder they have been discussing me.
Nandy steps over and places a mug of coffee in front of Fynn.
“He was here for the concert.” Nandy says, trying to control the discussion, although I’m not sure why.
“How long are you here?” Fynn gazes up at Nandy. “Oooooh, bring him to the club tonight?”
“No.”
The no is emphatic.
“Are you a dancer?” I ask Fynn and he turns those eyes back to me and, in a flash, they turn dark and wicked. “At times.” He coos.
I furrow my brow.
“I own a sex club.”
I nod. Before I can ask another question, my phone buzzes. I look down, click the text. And all thoughts of sex and dancing and clubs and beautiful men wearing makeup vanish.
“Planes are moving,” I say to Nandy. “I have to get over there.”
“I’ll call you a car.”
I nod and then head toward the guest room to splash water on my face and brush my teeth with the toothbrush I spotted in there earlier. My sweat-drenched suit is missing, though.
“My suit?”
“I already sent it down to be cleaned. I’ll get it back to you.”
“Or I’ll come back and get it sometime,” I wink at him and he chuckles and rolls his eyes. I look at Fynn, and he is looking at us quizzically. Was it my statement or the response from Nandy that has his curiosity piqued?
I pause at the door. Nandy’s hand is on the knob, also frozen in motion. Something to be said. Neither of us sure what. I start to ask for assurance that nobody will ever know about my panic attack, but I don’t think I need to ask. He knows. The pitcher of water and glass by the bed and ibuprofen for my headache…that told me he has some experience with this.
“I’m not sure I ever said, but the concert was incredible.”
Nandy smiles, dips his head in a show of bashfulness. “Which one?”
I smile. The elevator concert may have been even better… “I’m honored to have had two.”
“Anytime you want to come to a show, let me know. You know where to find me.”
I nod. “Likewise. Any game, any time.” Then it hits me. Nandy didn’t stay for the game in Calgary. “Have you seen a game? A full game in person?”
He shrugs. “I’ve paused at a few on TV—”
“You need to experience a game in person. You say when and I’ll make that happen. Of course, let’s give it a few games so you can actually see me play.”
Nandy furrows his brow. “They’ll pull you from a game?”
“For missing practice like this, yeah.”
“But it wasn’t your fault.”
“Being here, traveling in such bad weather…not…well, yeah, this is my fault.”
My phone dings with the confirmation that my car is downstairs. I exhale. Nandy eyes me up and down.
“Well, it seems you got what you came for.”
I eye him.
“You got into my pants.” He winks and smiles. That full-on Nandy smile that fills his gold eyes with sparkles. My stomach flips and I return his smile.