CHAPTER 26 BOWER
BOWER
Bennett’s alarm sounds off, startling me awake from where I’m comfortably sleeping on his chest.
“Shit,” he grumbles as he picks up his phone and turns off the alarm. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Early plane this morning.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble into his chest as his hand rubs up and down my side. “I get it.” I slowly lift, the ache of staying in the same position all night hitting me in the back.
“You can stay,” he says, tugging on my hand.
“No, I should get back to my place, take a shower, and get started with my day.”
“Bower, it’s five thirty.”
“It’s fine.” I slide out of bed and look around the bedroom, unsure what I’m trying to find. I didn’t bring anything here with me besides my phone and keys, so I pick them up from the nightstand and turn to leave just as Bennett comes right up to me.
“Bower, please don’t pull away.”
I look up at him, into those sultry eyes, and feel the pull toward him that I’ve felt the last few weeks. The one that I was attempting to mask as friendship but have realized is not friendship at all.
It’s lust.
Yearning.
The need for so much more from him.
Wetting my lips, I say, “Even if I tried, I know I couldn’t pull away. I’m drawn to you.”
A sense of relief seems to wash through him as he tugs me into a hug and kisses the top of my head.
“We’ll work through this,” he says. “Promise, okay? Just trust me.”
I nod, even though I feel so unsure.
He takes my hand in his and guides me toward the front door. “Want me to walk you to your apartment?”
I shake my head. “No, you have to get ready. I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I squeeze his hand and move away from him, offering him a smile. “Safe travels, Bennett.”
“Thanks,” he says as he releases my hand, looking pained that he had to do so.
And with one last tight smile, I head back home, taking the stairs so I don’t have to wait for the elevator. When I get to my apartment, I head straight for my bed, place my phone on the nightstand, and bury my head in my pillow, where I let all my emotions go.
I allow myself to feel, to sob, to cry until I don’t have any tears left. Because how can something that feels so, so right also feel so incredibly wrong?
I stare at my computer in front of me, at one of the book trucks I’ve been thinking about purchasing. I haven’t taken the leap yet because I can’t seem to put together a solid thought.
Everything feels muddled.
Out of place.
Not right.
I’m itching on the inside but burning on the outside.
I’m disappointed in myself but thrilled at the same time.
I’m concerned for my friendship but also dying to talk to my friend.
To sum it up, I’m not doing well.
And the pressure of it all keeps building up to the point that I crash out and cry.
I’ve done it three times already, twice in Adalade’s house and I’ve been able to hide it, but the third one, well, it happened right here in this coffee house.
At least Adalade didn’t have to see it, because the last thing I want to do is explain to her what’s going on, especially after the last few conversations we’ve had.
So, here I am, sitting alone, attempting to follow through on a promise I made to myself but can’t possibly figure it out—
“What are the chances of running into you here?” a familiar voice says.
I glance up to see Cougar, standing in front of me with a to-go iced latte and a smile on his face.
“Cougar,” I say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Grabbing some caffeine in between practice and film review.” He nods at the seat in front of him and I gesture for him to take a seat. “What about you?”
“Attempting to get some work done.”
“Attempting, huh?” He slouches in his chair like he always does. “Why does that sound like you’re not getting anything done?”
“Because you would be right about that. I’ve gotten nothing done.”
“That seems like shit.” He nods toward my computer. “What are you doing? Maybe I can help.”
I chuckle, the sound feeling foreign because I couldn’t imagine chuckling with my state of mind, but who says that? Who says they can help with someone’s work?
Cougar, that’s who.
I turn my computer toward him and say, “Attempting to pick out a truck.”
He sits up and leans forward, taking the computer from me, and says, “Would you look at this shit?” His eyes zero in on the screen. “What the fuck are these things?”
“They’re called mini trucks, and their beds are converted to have shelves in the back.”
He scrolls through the page, passionately interested, which makes me smile. “How the fuck do I get one?”
“Cougar.” I chuckle. “You’re too big to drive one of those. You would never fit in one.”
“The hell I wouldn’t. I could get one of these and hand out signed jerseys from the back.
It could be the merch mobile.” His eyes light up.
“The Cougar mobile. Fuck, sweetheart, this has to happen. I can get it wrapped to look like a cougar as well.” He clicks on something and turns it toward me.
“This one, right here. Perfect. Give me ten of them.”
“Oh my God, you’re so ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head.
“Ridiculous or genius?” he asks.
“Ridiculous.”
He shakes his head and then sips his drink. “You’re hating because you’re jealous.”
“I’m telling the truth because there is no way you would be able to drive that thing, let alone give away merch. You would be mauled by fans.”
“I see no problem with that. Got to love all the love.”
“Okay, fine, get one. Let’s see you go through with this idea.”
His lips purse to the side and then he says, “Damn, you know I’m all talk.”
I laugh because he truly is just…to say it nicely, an idiot.
There’s nothing complicated about him.
He’s unapologetically him.
And there might not be much substance to him, but sometimes easy is best.
“What do you need this truck for?”
“You’re going to make fun of me.”
His eyes pop open as he points to his chest. “Me? Make fun of you? Come on, I have better people to spend that kind of energy on. So tell me, what it’s for?”
I take my computer back and say, “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”
“Promise.”
“Fine.” I shut my computer and fold my hands on top of it. “It’s supposed to be a book truck.”
His brow furrows together. “What do you mean by ‘book truck’?”
“I’d sell books from it. Kind of like a food truck, but instead of food, it would be books.”
“Is that a thing?” he asks. “Like…people read?”
Oh, Cougar.
“Yes, they read.” I chuckle. “It’s actually quite popular.”
“Really?” he asks, absolutely stunned as if this is new information to him.
“Yes. Very popular.”
“Huh.” He scratches his cheek. “Do you read?”
“I do.” I nod, finding so much humor in this interaction. “Do you not read?”
“Sweetheart, I can’t tell you the last time I even picked up a book that was not a playbook. Not even sure I can read at this point.”
“You can read.”
He shakes his head. “Doubtful. I don’t think I have the attention span to be able to complete a book.”
“It does require attention to be able to finish one.”
“The only reason I haven’t drifted off during this conversation is because, well, for one, you taught me about mini trucks, and two, you’re hot to look at.”
I smirk. “Well, I’m flattered that my hotness can keep your attention.”
He tips his drink toward me and says, “You’re welcome.”
Unbeknownst to me, this is kind of what I needed. A mindless conversation with a guy who just might have more interest in what he looks like in the mirror than the words on pages in a book.
And I’m grateful for this little encounter. I needed to smile.
I now understand why there haven’t been chills or goose bumps whenever I’ve been around Cougar, though. Is he still hot as hell? Yes. But do I want more substance in a man that Cougar just doesn’t have? Also yes. I’ve made a friend, and I’m okay with that.
He takes a look at his phone and mutters, “Shit. I have to go. Same time, same place tomorrow?” He stands. “Maybe I can help you pick out the colors for your mini truck while I convince you to come to one of my games.”
“You can try to convince all you want, not saying it’s going to happen.”
“Can I at least convince you to go with the Foghorn colors? That would be a sharp fucking truck.”
“I was thinking more on the pink side.”
“Should I convince the Foghorns to change their colors then to match your truck?”
“I’d love to see you try.”
He winks. “If anyone can do it, it’s me. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
Then he takes off and for a moment, I can’t help but wonder, did I just agree to another date with Cougar?
Bennett: How was your day?
I stare down at his text for the fifth time, knowing I need to answer. I promised him I wouldn’t shy away, push away, flat-out disappear, but God, wouldn’t that be easy?
It would be painful, quite sure my body would hate me, but the mind and heart would appreciate such a move.
Then again, I can’t be that person.
Gabby would hate me even more if I didn’t treat her brother with all the respect he deserves.
So I take a seat on my couch and let out a deep breath as I text him back.
Bower: Pretty decent, how about yours?
Sure, it’s a lie, but telling him that I cried three times because I’m so confused by my thoughts and feelings doesn’t really seem like a great opening line.
Instead of texting back, though, he calls.
Of course he would. He always does.
Just keep an even voice and everything should be fine. Slapping on a smile, even though he can’t see me, I say, “Hello?”
“Hey, Bower,” he answers, his voice deep, as if he’s talking to me shirtless and in bed.
“Umm…hi,” I say awkwardly because, well, I nearly sucked the man’s dick off last night and just from the sound of his voice, I want to do it again.
And again.
And fuck…again.
“Oh no, you’re not going to make this awkward, are you?” he teases. That lightens my mood only slightly.
“You’re the one who called when we were texting. If anyone made it awkward, it was you.”
“Sorry that I’d prefer to hear your voice.”
“Apology accepted.”
He chuckles and I can practically feel the rumble of his chest from here. It takes everything in me to keep my legs closed.
“There she is. See, it doesn’t need to be awkward between us.”