16. Cassie
CASSIE
“I’m heading to the bathroom.” I keep my voice firm and even. “And then I’m going home.”
“Cassandra.” Dad frowns at me. “The sponsors are in the lounge, and they want to see you.”
I roll my eyes. “Dad, they saw me at the last mixer. And they saw me in the box for the entire game.”
He raises a brow, his ‘I’m about to be disappointed in you’ face on full display for the first time since I was a teenager and skipped last period Math to go surfing.
“Okay,” I relent. “I’ll come show my face.”
“Great,” Dad presses a quick kiss to my head. “See you in there.”
As I walk away, my stomach knots. I really want to go home.
My jaw hurts from all the smiling I’ve already had to do today, and I’ve barely had time to sit on my couch since I got in this morning.
I check the app on my phone which monitors the tide conditions, but I already know before I open it that the waves will not be cooperative if I leave any later than right this second.
After I finish in the bathroom, I check my watch. It’s only taken me six and a half minutes from when I spoke to my father. I could probably stretch to fifteen before Dad starts thinking I’m missing, so I can probably get away with lingering for a few more minutes and delaying the inevitable.
I wander along the corridor, further away from the lounge to avoid any awkward bump-ins as I ditch.
A set of double doors are propped open along the left wall, and I vaguely remember going this way when I performed here two years ago. As far as I remember, there’s a dressing room with a pretty comfortable couch at the end of this corridor, and I figure that will be the perfect place to hide out.
I’m halfway down the corridor when I hear voices echoing down the hall behind me. In a panic, I slide into an empty room and press my ear to the door until I hear the voices pass.
“Hiding?” Someone says behind me, and I let out an undignified yelp as I spin in place.
“Jesus Christ.” I hold my hand to my chest and take in the man in front of me.
It takes a second for my heart rate to recover from the fright, and it’s hindered by the sight of a half-naked, glistening Robbie King splayed out in front of me like my own personal feast. He’s half-reclined on a massage table, ice strapped to his knee and his hair perfectly tousled.
“What are you doing in here?”
He gestures wordlessly to his knee.
Right. This is obviously the recovery room.
He raises his brows expectantly.
It was bad enough seeing him on the pitch for ninety minutes, especially because the camera man obviously had a knack for catching him whenever he pulled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe sweat from his eyes, giving the rest of us an eyeful of his toned abs.
Toned abs that are less than a foot away from me right now.
I throw my shoulders back. “I’m looking for the dressing room. ”
Robbie’s eyebrows scrunch, a little crease forming between them, making him look almost boyish.
He slides up and off the table, unfurling his big body as he stands.
“Should you be getting up?” I ask warily.
His knee doesn’t look swollen as he rips the ice away from his skin and discards it on the table behind him, but he must be in here for a reason.
His shorts are pulled up above his thighs almost indecently, showing off toned muscles that make my mouth water.
“I’m not injured, Cass. It’s post match recovery. I just have to take it easy tonight.”
I nod my head awkwardly. It’s the first time we’ve been in the same room since I propositioned him, and I can’t help but remember it.
Does he remember? Does he ever think about my offer? Does he ever regret not saying yes?
The best thing to do now is not bring it up. “So no surfing?”
Fucking hell, Cassie.
He licks his lips as he rests back on the table, hands clenching the padded surface so tightly the muscles in his forearms pop. “Probably not.”
The room is suddenly too small. It only takes two steps to cross to him, and my feet move before I tell them to.
“It was a good game,” I tell him, stepping into his space. His legs stay planted on the floor, but I swear his knuckles whiten on the table.
He nods his head. “Thanks. Enjoy the box?”
I quirk my brow, back straightening even as I sense his eyes catching on my lips. “Watching me when you should be watching the ball, Bert?”
I run my tongue across my lip, the gloss I reapplied in the bathroom tasting like strawberries and terrible decisions.
I can’t breathe as his stance widens just slightly, as if granting me access to step closer. My shoes brush against his bare feet. I’m more than aware that all that’s separating us are my clothes and his tiny white shorts which seem to be getting tighter and tighter…
His hand finally releases the table behind him, tugging at a curl hanging across my shoulder, his knuckle gently brushing against my breast as he winds a spiral around his finger. “I’m always watching you,” he confesses, lowly.
Even in my heels and with him leaning against the table, he still towers over me. Like a magnet, I’m drawn to him, desperate for him to claim me, to make the move, and I swear he’s just about to touch his lips to mine…
A noise blares and I jump back, spinning on my heels as if someone’s about to burst through the doors and catch us doing something we shouldn’t.
“It’s my alarm.” His voice is gruff as he turns his back to me, the moment broken. “I can stop icing now.” He pulls a t-shirt back over his head.
“Are you going to the lounge?” I ask, flicking my hair over my shoulder and loving the way his eyes trace the action.
He shakes his head. “I’m heading home.”
“To your bike?”
“Yeah, I’ve not got a beach on my doorstep, unfortunately.”
I’m about to offer for him to come back to mine, but then I remember my app. By the time I get home after showing my face in the lounge, there won’t be any waves to surf.
“You going up there?” he asks me.
I nod with an exhausted breath. “Yeah, my dad asked me to so…” I trail off uneasily.
Robbie steps up to me again, his hand rising, and I hold my breath at the thought of him touching me.
He gently twists my earring, freeing a strand of my hair curled around the gemstone droplet dangling from my earlobe and letting it fall back behind my ear.
“This is quite a deal you’ve got going on here. What are you getting out of it?”
“Huh?”
“Well I’m getting paid to do this, Sandra. It’s my job. Why are you here?”
I don’t know, I want to tell him.
“My dad asked me to.”
He nods. “It seems to me that you’re doing a lot for you not to be benefiting from this, Cassie. Take a night off.”
I swallow harshly. “I made a commitment to be here.”
His eyebrows scrunch again. This close, I can see the way his brown eyes slightly blink at the motion.
He shrugs. “Seems like you could use an escape.” The echo of the words I told him when I dragged him to the sea fall heavily in the room.
I don’t have the chance to reply before he quietly slips out of the door, leaving me feeling strangely bare.
I can’t shake off his words all the way back to the lounge. I plaster a smile on my face as I meet the fans the sponsors brought with them, and I don’t think about his words again until I’m back in my bedroom straining to hear the ocean, but instead just hearing the air con blowing around the room.
Seems like you could use an escape.