13. Derek
Hockey Heads United
Derek
My wife wants me to sleep with her………..
Blake
And?
Jace
Gross
Blake
You’re texting us and not fucking her why?
Jace
My eyes!!!!
I can’t believe I just read that.
What the fuck dude????
Blake
You’ve seen worse
Derek
Focus assholes
What should I do?
Blake
Never thought I’d see the day that Derek Perez asks for advice on sex…
Derek
Not for sex.
She wants me to SLEEP with her
Charlie
You meat heads realize it’s 11 pm??
Alec
Then go sleep with her?
Jace
I'm not opposed to a cuddle with my girl
What’s the harm in cuddling?
Braxton
You cuddle? I don’t know why I just assumed you slept in separate coffin
Alec
You’ve got to stop watching vampire shows…
Derek
EVERYONE FOCUS!!!!
You assholes realize that our marriage is FAKE right????? We’re not married.
Georgia and I are friends
Blake
What's the harm in a cuddle between friends??
Jace
Didn’t you say something along those lines before chasing Cleo onto the lawn in your boxers? Or am I trippin?
Derek
Fuck the both of you.
Charlie
GO TO SLEEP DICKHEADS
Turning off my phone, I put it on the charger and sigh.
So much for asking those stupid assholes for help. I should’ve known not to ask them for help, especially considering I’m the smartest out of all of them. I mean, seriously… Blake should’ve been the last person that I went to for advice.
Georgia comes out of the bathroom, a shy smile on her face as she looks down at the bed and our new buddy—a pillow barrier.
I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable with the idea of us sharing a bed, so I drew a line in the sand and put pillows between us.
She chuckles softly and gets in. “What? Worried I’ll bite?”
“More like, worried I will.” I joke back, lying flat on my back as she twists and turns to get comfortable.
“It’s okay, I'm not opposed to it.”
My face heats and my pulse skyrockets as I grin. Here I am sharing a bed with the most gorgeous woman in Summerfield University’s history, and I made a barrier between us.
Heavens, strike me down now.
When she finally settles and sighs, I turn to face the fort, and I’m about to speak, but she beats me to it.
“Tell me something about you that no one else knows,” she says, and I chuckle.
“Going for the big bucks now, are we?”
She laughs. “Of course. Go big or go home—this place is my new home, so…”
Nodding, I sigh. “I started cooking when my dad died. He and I used to cook all the time together—Mamá is a shit cook, but Papá? He could throw down in the kitchen, and when he died, my mom couldn’t even look at our kitchen anymore.
Our floors were scuffed from them dancing in there, and Papá had a handmade molcajete that he crafted for her on the counter.
I used it the first time that I cooked without him, and she said that my food tasted just like his—after that, I started cooking more.
I fell in love with it, and now we’re here. ”
I don’t know why I told her that. Maybe it’s because of the barrier between us, but I told her something that I haven’t even admitted to myself.
Georgia hums. “Do you still have to mocha-thing? I’m sorry, I’m trying to remember how you said it, but I can’t,” she mumbles, and I laugh obnoxiously loud.
“A molcajete is a bowl that helps you grind spices and no. I left the one he made her at their house in Texas. Tell me something about you that not a lot of people know.”
Georgia pauses for a second before sighing. “My brain is fucked up.”
I scoff, removing a pillow from the barrier to see her eyes, and even in the darkness of the room, I can make out the small flecks in her irises.
“Don’t say that about my wife.”
She chuckles. “It’s true, though. My brain is fucked. I can’t read, and I’m twenty-one…”
I frown, my brows furrowing. “You text all the time and read stuff in Vegas.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me not say that I can’t read—I can.
It’s harder for me because I’m dyslexic.
I can read most things, but it’s hard...
When I text, I use text-to-speech to know what others are saying, and I’ll use speech-to-text for things I want to say.
Sometimes, I'll keyboard smash a letter so it’ll seem like I sent it… ” She shrugs.
We sit in silence for a moment, staring at one another. I don’t think either of us was prepared to tell one another this much on night one, but here we are.
Cupping her face, ignoring the other pillows to separate us, I look into the darkness and find her eyes again.
“Your brain is beautiful, and so are you. Having dyslexia doesn’t mean your brain is ruined. English is my first language, and I still get stumped. It’s okay.”
She cups her hand on her cheek, and a smile forms under our hands.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“Goodnight, Georgia.”
“Goodnight, Derek.”
Sunlight shines through my blinds, successfully waking me up. With a groan, I take in my surroundings and frown.
What the hell am I doing in here?
I go to stretch and stop as soft snores filter through the air. Looking down, I freeze.
Georgia’s asleep on my chest.
She’s curled herself into a little ball, half of her body atop mine as she sleeps peacefully. I stop in my haste and watch her as the sunlight beams into the room.
Her features are softer when she’s asleep, and an ethereal glow bounces off of her delicate skin as the sun shines against her. She looks so peaceful, completely unlike her usual chaotic self.
My finger itches to touch her, caress her, and just when I reach out to do so, the sound of feet hitting the floor and a yell of my name snaps me out of it.
“Papá!” Delilah shouts, running into the room, her curls a wild mess against her shoulders.
Grinning, I put a finger to my lips as Georgia stirs.
“Oh!” Delilah grins cheekily, eyeing the sleeping beauty on my chest before picking up Agnes like a rag doll. I cringe.
“Am I going to Pre-K today?”
Delilah’s words ring throughout the air, stilling me in my spot.
Shit.
I slept through my alarm this morning. Delilah is usually up after me, so if she’s waking me up, then we’re fucked.
Softly prying myself away from Georgia, I hold my arms out for Delilah. With a small giggle, she falls into my hug. Kissing her forehead, I speak into her hair, careful of my tone to not wake up Georgia.
“Go brush your teeth quickly, and put on the clothes that I set out on your bed last night, okay, Soldier?”
Deli straightens up, nodding her head with a pout.
“Aye aye, Captain,” she says, saluting me before doing those two tasks.
Hopping out of the bed, I rush to get ready, fucking up my own routine as I rush to get breakfast made for Deli and Georgia.
“Where are the damn eggs?” I curse, searching the fridge high and low.
The corn tortillas are already frying, my green sauce is ready, and all I need now are eggs.
Cursing under my breath, I run a hand over my face as I blindly look for the eggs, smacking my glasses off my face.
I tried to put in my contacts this morning, but my eyes were too irritated for them.
When I finally find the eggs and finish cooking breakfast, I put my glasses back on and head for Delilah.
She should be done getting dressed by now…
“Dels, baby, are you ready?” I ask, calling out to her, only to receive giggles in return. My feet come to a complete stop in the doorway as I take in the sight before me.
Sitting at her miniature vanity is Delilah, getting her hair done by Georgia. The two of them are in their own world, singing along to the musical that Deli’s been watching on repeat lately.
My body feels weird as I take in the two of them together, happy and laughing with one another.
“You look perfect, Deli,” Georgia coos, looking at Delilah through the mirror.
My daughter grows shy as she blushes, pink tinting her dimpled cheeks. “Thank you…” she says softly, tilting her chin to hide her smile.
This right here is what she’s needed this entire time, and I’ll do anything to keep her life like this.
Georgia catches a glimpse of me through the mirror and smiles, “Looks like breakfast is ready, Deli Belly… Go eat, but make sure not to spill anything, okay? If you need help with anything, tell us.”
Delilah nods, grinning as she eyes herself in the mirror before turning to hug Georgia.
“Thank you!” she exclaims before running to the kitchen, Agnes following behind her, whipping her tail.
“Do not give Agnes any of your chilaquiles, Deli! And be careful with the sauce!” I call after her, knowing that my messy daughter wants everyone in the world to try her favorite foods, including our new dog.
When I turn around, Georgia is standing before me, a shy smile on her face. Taking a deep breath, I pull her into a hug, and my shoulders drop as I thank her.
She waves me off, smiling. "What's a wife for? Have a good day, yeah? I have a course today at ten.”
Thinking over her words, I follow behind her as she makes her way to the kitchen island, taking a seat next to Delilah. I watch as she cares for my daughter, cleaning a bit of green sauce off of her face.
“I have a course at ten too. I’ll pick you up after class.”
Georgia looks up from her plate and grins. “Sounds good to me, go get ‘em, tiger.”
I think about Georgia’s words all day, the way she helped Delilah when I couldn’t, and even helped to pack lunch for her.
The whole thing was way more domestic than I’m used to.
I’m used to having some help with Deli in the evening.
But to wake up to someone caring for my daughter and wanting to help me is a completely different story.
Hell, I wanted to care for Georgia as well, and I don’t know what that says about me.
Standing outside of the arts building, I watch my surroundings as I wait for Georgia to get done with her class. My lecture ended early today, so as soon as I finished, I hauled ass from the hospitality building across campus to the arts building.
Checking my watch, I note that her class could end at any minute when a familiar smell catches my attention.
Lavender and patchouli.
Frowning, my eyes catch on the dancer entering the building. She has her back turned, but the sight of her fiery red curls in a sleek bun grasps my attention.
“Rosemary?” I whisper aloud and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Rosemary still lives in Texas, for crying out loud. There’s no need to bring her up when she’s a thousand miles away.
Just as the thought of her being in Texas hits my brain, I catch a whiff of mandarin and bergamot, and my body relaxes. Georgia looks a bit tired, but still gorgeous.
“I need to seriously learn how to record my lectures,” she starts with a huff.
“What happened in class?” I muse, massaging her shoulders like a boxing coach as she chuckles.
“What didn’t happen is what you should be asking; today drained me.” She groans, running a hand through her hair as I smile.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I say, “What didn’t happen today?”
She pauses momentarily. “I didn’t get proposed to by Eren Marlowe in the middle of class, that’s what!”
Pretending to be hurt, I put a hand to my chest. “What am I, chopped liver?”
She rolls her eyes, swatting at my chest.
“You’re hot, Cougar Magnet. I’ll give you that, but you’re not Eren Marlowe.”