20. Chapter 20
I fall back on the bed, my hands resting on my stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this stuffed.”
“Too much jerk chicken?” Alyssa settles on the opposite edge of the bed.
I groan. “I think it was the conch fritters.” I should’ve known better than to eat that much fried food.
During the season, I primarily eat lots of protein and good carbohydrates.
I was doing so well at the barbecue, eating lots of jerk chicken, a rice dish, and a fresh fruit salad.
But when I saw the table of fried foods, I told myself I’d have just one bite each of coconut shrimp and a conch fritter.
A man has to live, and if I’m in the Caribbean, that means trying all the food.
But then one bite turned into multiple bites of the fritters that are now sitting heavy in my stomach, too.
“And the ice cream,” she teases.
Okay, maybe I had a small bowl of soft serve. When I got some for Crew and Rhys to share, it looked so refreshing that I couldn’t resist. “I’m not the only one who had a bowl.”
“We both know I love sweets.” I’m well aware of her cookie obsession—the one that brought her to my house after every unfortunate first date. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s supposed to be staying in shape for their multimillion-dollar baseball contract.”
“I guess my body is insured by the Mustangs,” I mumble.
She laughs. “As it should be.”
“Oh, really?” I lean up on my elbows. “What price sticker would you put on it?”
We’ve officially ventured further into flirting territory—step one in the game plan—and I’m here for it. The guys will be proud. Or make fun of me. Probably both.
Alyssa sucks in a breath. “You want me to put a dollar amount on your body?”
“There’s this thing called sarcasm. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
She hums. “Mm, don’t think I have.”
“Glad to be the one to enlighten you.” I glance over as she readjusts her weight on the edge of the bed.
My eyes move to the plush comforter, then back to her.
“Are we ever going to talk about the elephant in the room?” I catch a glimpse of her blush before she turns to face the balcony. “I can sleep on the couch,” I offer.
“Have you tried sitting on that thing?” She grimaces. “I’m not letting you tweak your back. I’ll sleep on it.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m younger than you and shorter.”
“What does being younger have to do with it?”
“I can bounce back faster.”
I shoot her a look. “I’m only, what, three years older than you? Plus my body’s insured, remember? I don’t think you told me what price you’d put on it, though.”
She throws one of the decorative pillows at me. “One dollar.”
I dodge the pillow and clutch my chest. “I don’t think my ego will ever recover.”
Alyssa slides a leg up under her. “Is that insured by your team, too?”
“Hilarious,” I deadpan. “If I won’t let you sleep on the couch and you won’t let me sleep on the couch, where does that leave us?”
She’s quiet as she looks around the room. “It is a big bed.”
“You’d be comfortable sharing it?”
After another long drag of silence, she nods. “We’re two grown adults. We can share a bed without it being weird.”
“Exactly.” I inhale a breath, needing more air in my lungs at the thought of being so close to her all night long. “Not weird at all.”
“I have another issue, though.” She fidgets with the hem of her white linen shirt. “I didn’t bring any pajamas.”
I think back to when I unpacked for her…
and the silky little tops and shorts that I avoided touching and tried to forget about.
But I’m remembering them very clearly right now.
Okay, I can see why she’d be uncomfortable wearing those around me when she probably packed them thinking she’d have her own room.
I push up from the bed. “You can borrow my shirt.” I grab my favorite T-shirt from my suitcase. It has the Boston College logo on it and is perfectly worn in. It reminds me of home and family and nostalgia from my time playing college ball.
I toss it to her and she catches it.
“Thanks.” She gets up and holds the shirt to her chest. “I need to shower and get ready for bed. Do you want to use the bathroom first?”
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“You sure? I have a long bedtime routine.”
“Take as much time as you need.” I grab the book I brought for the trip from my end table.
Alyssa stares at the book in my hands. “You’re reading Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yeah, I’m only six chapters in because of baseball.” I rub a hand along the back of my neck. “Well, and because I have to look up a ton of the words to understand what they’re saying.”
Her eyes remain fixed on the book. “What made you pick up a Jane Austen novel? I didn’t know you liked to read.”
I haven’t read an entire book since high school English, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“You mentioned that it’s your favorite book.” I shrug. “I thought I’d see what all the hype was about.”
She finally meets my gaze, her eyes soft and warm like the center of a chocolate chip cookie. “What do you think so far?”
“It’s pretty good, but I’m not understanding the love for Mr. Darcy.”
She gasps. “What?”
“He’s so arrogant.”
“He’s just reserved, and the way he’s drawn to Elizabeth—” She exhales a dreamy sigh. “It’s perfect.”
I could listen to her talk about the things she loves all day long. “I guess I just need to keep reading. See if my feelings change.”
Looking up at Alyssa, I’m living proof that they can.
Once I hear the bathroom fan turn off, I’m three chapters deeper into the book and starting to understand what Alyssa was talking about. I can see why Darcy likes Elizabeth. It must be refreshing to have someone challenge him when he’s used to women who are just after his fortune.
I think any professional athlete can relate to that.
Wanting someone who sees you as the person and not your profession and the dollar signs that come with it.
It’s funny how some things from the 1800s are still relevant today.
But let me just say, after all my Google searches about the Regency era, I’m extra thankful for the invention of indoor plumbing.
The bathroom door opens, and Alyssa walks out.
My eyes move from the logo on my shirt to where it hits her mid-thigh, showing off her long legs.
I swallow hard. Seeing her in my clothes does something to me.
Like a primal part of me was just unleashed.
Even though it’s my favorite shirt, I would give it to her in a heartbeat if she asked.
Especially if it meant I got to see her in it again.
I avert my gaze and fidget with the book. “How was the shower?” My voice cracks. I grit my teeth. That’s rarely happened since I was a pubescent teenager, but of course it would happen when she’s looking like that in my shirt.
She giggles and runs her fingers through the bottom of her hair. “The rain showerhead is relaxing. I could’ve fallen asleep in there.”
I get out of bed as she slides under the covers on the opposite side.
The shirt rides up, revealing the silk shorts I saw earlier when unpacking for her.
She quickly pulls the oversized shirt back down to cover them.
If she’s still wearing the shorts she brought, could that mean she wanted to wear my shirt?
Hope swells in my chest, but I tamp it down for now.
It’s like the guys told me, patience is key when I’m in this for the long haul.
“I’m going to shower,” I say. “Do you want me to turn off the lights?”
“You can leave them on until you’re ready for bed.”
I grab a clean pair of underwear and shorts, then head to the bathroom. Once I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I brace my hands on the marble counter and look at myself in the mirror.
I’m about to sleep next to my best friend who I also have feelings for. What could possibly go wrong?
I blink and shake my head before turning off the light and carefully opening the door in case Alyssa is already asleep. She’s wide awake, though.
Watching New Girl.
In my shirt.
I’ve never seen a more breathtaking sight.
I run my hand through my still-damp hair. “You’re watching without me?”
“Sorry.” She ducks her head sheepishly. “It was the only good thing on that I could fi—” Her words cut off as she looks at me.
Her eyes drink in my bare torso like I’m an ice-cold glass of water and she’s walking out of the desert.
At least that’s why I imagine her cheeks are now flaming pink and she won’t meet my gaze.
“Where’s your shirt?”
“You’re wearing it.”
She slides her knees to her chest up under the shirt, still looking small in it. “You only brought one shirt to sleep in?”
“I usually sleep shirtless.” I decide it’s better not to mention that I don’t normally sleep with pants on either. “I brought that shirt to wear on the plane ride home. I didn’t think I’d need any with the full schedule of events.”
She bites her bottom lip. “So, you’re just going to sleep like”—she gestures to my shirtless chest—“that?”
“Unless you want me to sleep in my gross plane clothes.” Alyssa wrinkles her nose. I laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
“Better you than me,” she whispers under her breath as I slide into bed. I sputter, and it turns into a cough. “You okay?” She pats my back, but the feel of her soft hand on my bare skin only escalates the issue.
I jump off the bed and head back into the bathroom, taking a long drink of water from the sink faucet. It doesn’t taste great, but it’s better than the weird choking. When I step back into the room, Alyssa worries her bottom lip.
My eyes are fixed on her mouth as she keeps her gaze on the muted television that’s now on a commercial break.
Stop staring at her lips, I internally chide myself.
You can think about kissing later, but right now is not the time.
I slide under the covers and give myself a little pep talk.
I’m good. Not at all nervous to sleep next to my best friend. It’s not going to be weird at all.
“Which episode is it?” I ask, trying to sound chill.
She sucks her lips into her mouth like she doesn’t want to say. Before she has a chance to answer, the show is back from the commercial break. Alyssa unmutes it and finally answers me as I watch the scene unfold on the screen.
“The one where Nick and Jess finally make out.”
Fan-freaking-tastic.