Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
Michelle
Abigail’s house is a welcome change from my apartment and my office, both of which feel devoid of a certain male specimen now that I know what it’s like to kiss him.
I hug a pillow on her couch, beyond happy to have Abigail back in my life. I missed her. Lauren sits next to me, drinking some sparkling water and petting Princess, who has grown into the fluffiest cat I’ve ever met—and might be even more spoiled than her namesake.
“Gold’s clearly displeased with his teammates for that close call,” the announcer says with a laugh, the camera cutting to Tristan screaming, flecks of spit flying from his mouth as he yells at the guys.
My eyebrows raise.
That’s new.
“That’s kind of hot,” Lauren says, reaching into her bowl of popcorn. “I have no idea why he’s so upset, but I love that for him.”
“The defenders let them get too close too soon.” I shake my head, annoyed with the guys on Tristan’s behalf. “The Copperheads never should have been able to set up that header.”
Abigail flits into the room from the kitchen, another huge bowl of popcorn in her hands. “What did I miss?” she asks. “Luke says hi, by the way.”
She’s beaming, looking pleased after her video chat with Luke, and I love how happy she is.
Even if I’m not, I’m glad she and Luke are happy together.
“Copperheads nearly scored. Tristan saved it,” I tell her.
“Ooh, already?” Her nose scrunches. “Not good.”
“Yeah, Michelle’s boy toy was upset as fuck,” Lauren says with a cackle. “He looked like he had rabies.”
“He did not,” I object. “He had every right to be that upset. They weren’t paying attention.”
Lauren and Abigail share a look, grinning. Abigail grabs one of the popcorn seasonings and sprinkles it over her bowl as her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.
“So he is your boy toy?” Lauren asks, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
“Can we just watch the game?” I ask, annoyed.
Not annoyed, not exactly. Frustrated. Exasperated. I blow out a long breath, watching Connor put on a burst of speed as he dribbles around one of the other team’s sweepers, passing it to Djimon.
“Michelle, we didn’t mean to upset you,” Abigail says. “But I do really, really need to know what’s going on. For research purposes. For acting.”
I spare her a look, and she bats her eyelashes at me.
The crowd groans, and I turn back to the game as Djimon’s pass back to Connor results in nothing, their goalie easily catching the ball.
A breath gusts out of me. I want Tristan to win.
Well, no. I frown at myself. Not just Tristan, of course. The whole team.
“I’m not upset,” I answer.
I don’t have to turn away from the screen to know Abigail and Lauren are sharing another look.
“You know what?” I pop up from my seat on the couch, nearly overturning my popcorn. My hands catch it at the last minute, and I put it on the table. “You guys are right.”
“About?” Abigail asks.
“Obviously,” Lauren says at the same time.
“I need a change. And I mean, I need more than…whatever Tristan and I are doing.”
“But you like him,” Lauren objects.
“I knew it!” Abigail claps her hands together.
“They hooked up,” Lauren tells her gleefully.
“What?!” Abigail gasps.
I glare at them. “Not about him. This is not about him!”
It’s kind of about him. Just a little bit.
Lauren puts a handful of popcorn in her mouth, watching me like I’m more entertaining than the soccer game on TV.
“I like this energy. Very manic, very not Michelle. A bit troubling but exciting all the same,” Abigail says, narrowing her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“I need a change,” I repeat, picking up steam as I pace. “I’m going to network.”
“Right now?” Abigail asks, flabbergasted.
“Mood,” Lauren tells her.
“Yeah. Kind of.” I pull my phone from my sweatpants, then throw myself back on Abigail’s couch as I scroll through one of the chat apps I have only just started checking. There it is, the group chat I had silenced for years.
I haven’t started a conversation here in a long time, but I sure as heck have been more active in it since going to Caitlin’s house and reconnecting with my team.
A team I know deep in my gut will help me out now, if I let them.
I take a deep breath and type out a message.
Michelle
Hey—I need help. I gotta find a new job. Any leads?
I might not answer right away, but I’ll be back to check in later
It’s not the bravest way to end my series of messages, but as I close the app, I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.
“Who is ballinbiznitches, and why did you ask them for help?” Lauren’s peering over my shoulder.
I slump against the couch, hardly tracking the action on the television.
Abigail’s chewing and watching me avidly, too.
“My college soccer team’s chat,” I tell them.
“I asked for help finding a new job. My friend Stella runs this amazing organization to promote women’s sports to at-risk kids.
” With that, I toss my phone on the coffee table and pull my popcorn back into my lap.
I can’t help but grin as Abigail and Lauren start high-fiving and cheering, though.
“Wow,” Abigail says. “That sounds freaking great, Michelle.”
“I hope so.” I pinch my brow. “I hope it works out.”
On the TV screen, the camera zooms in close to Tristan’s face, and my stomach flip-flops.
“That feels like a sign,” Lauren says sagely.
“Shush,” Abigail tells her. “Michelle will figure out how to deal with him later.”
I groan, putting one of her throw pillows over my face.
“Just tell us if you like him. Give us something,” Abigail continues.
“I like him. But he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and I told him I didn’t want to be serious.” I grimace under the pillow, my voice muffled. That’s not exactly what I said. “I lied. I don’t want friends with benefits. I really like him. More than friends.”
It hits me then: He never said he didn’t want a girlfriend.
I sit straight up, zombie style, staring at nothing.
I assumed…and he certainly didn’t bother correcting my assumption, which is as good as admitting to it.
Right?
Probably.
“Did you finally realize how in love with you he is?” Abigail’s voice is exasperated, and I turn my zombie gaze on her. “It’s so obvious.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, rolling my eyes. “How many interviews has he done where he says he doesn’t want anything serious? That he doesn’t do girlfriends?”
“I have literally no idea, but it sounds like you’ve been following his personal life pretty closely for someone who isn’t interested in getting serious with him.”
Lauren snorts, covering her mouth with her hand and raising her eyebrows.
Slowly, I blink at Abigail. Blood rushes in my ears, and Abigail rolls her shoulders back, like she’s inviting me to say something.
Like she wants me to deny it.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“You’re not wrong,” I croak. I scrub a palm over my face. “I have a problem.”
A six-foot-six Tristan Gold problem.
Lauren gasps, pointing at me dramatically, and Abigail grins like a fiend.
“You do like him,” Lauren says accusingly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t know,” I wail, collapsing back onto the sofa. “I like him, yes, I do, and the sexy stuff we did was really…” I trail off, because I don’t have words to describe exactly how flipping perfect it’s been. “But he left. I got out of the shower, and he’d made coffee, and then he just left.”
“Oof,” Lauren interjects.
“And then in the locker room showers…” I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed. I let him pleasure me and he came without any assistance, and it was way fucking hotter than it should have been.
“In the locker room showers?” Abigail repeats, her eyebrows disappearing into her strawberry-blond hairline.
I grab Princess, who mews in protest before settling in to make biscuits on my lap. “In the locker room showers,” I agree.
“He made you coffee before he left, though?” Abigail asks, her voice soft. “That’s so cute. Man, he has it bad.”
“No, he so doesn’t, okay? He…”
“No, he does. He absolutely does.” Abigail nods emphatically, her eyes huge.
Mine narrow. “You know something.”
“Nope,” she disagrees, so casually that it takes me a few seconds to realize she’s lying.
Actresses.
It’s my turn to gasp, and I do, because Abigail’s lips turn down in a frown and her gaze darts away from me. “Do we need more water? Maybe some lemonade?”
“Spill,” Lauren says, pointing her finger at Abigail.
I nod fervently. “You better tell me. Right. Now.”
She sighs, twisting her hands in her lap before finally fixing me with a definitely guilty expression. “Fine. I know something. But it would be wrong to tell you.”
“This is a circle of trust,” I yell. My palms slap the couch, and Abigail startles slightly. “This is the trust circle!” Princess jumps out of my lap and glares at me, sauntering off with her tail held in a high question mark above her fluffy butt.
“Doesn’t feel trusting when you yell at her,” Lauren comments sagely. “And is it a circle, or a triangle, since there are only three of us?”
“That’s a good point, actually,” Abigail agrees. “Definitely a trust triangle.”
“Listen up, Gollum,” I snarl. “Tell me what I need to know or I’ll…I’ll—”
I pause, because I have no idea what I should threaten her with.
“Gollum?” Lauren repeats, confused.
“I’ll cry,” I finally finish.
“No, don’t do that. That would be so weird.”
“Weird?” I ask, momentarily derailed by Abigail. Honestly, the woman could probably be the queen of all conversational derailments.
“Yeah, you’re like super tough. You’re Superwoman. Or Batwoman. Or something. I don’t know. You get shit done. You don’t cry.” Abigail’s forehead crinkles as she tries to envision a world in which I am, in fact, not Superwoman.
“I cry a lot,” I say incredulously. “I stop myself from crying even more lately, about work and the fact that I’ve been practically living there to do the new owner’s bidding and deal with the fallout of the IFF drama.
I am freaking tired. So please, if you know something about…
whatever it is Tristan thinks he’s doing with me, tell me.
” I sniffle for effect, but I’m not sure how much of being about to cry I’m faking.
I want Tristan to want me as much as I want him. And not just sexually, which is absolutely what I thought, what I assumed, he meant.
Although we haven’t even had sex.
We could have, twice.
And yet…
But if he doesn’t want me as his girlfriend, my feelings are going to be hurt. No, worse than that.
I’ll be devastated.
I suck in a noisy breath, dismayed, my heart pounding harder than ever.
Am I seriously going into fight or flight over feelings?
I am a mess.
Abigail’s mouth quirks to one side in a crooked smile. “He likes you, Michelle. A lot. Has for a long time. He’s been holding out for you.”
Oh.
I blink.
Lauren claps, startling me, and she’s practically bouncing out of her seat on the couch. “This is great! This is what you wanted, right?”
I lick my lips, unsure.
I’m not sure about much of anything these days. Still, I can’t deny the warmth spreading across my chest at Abigail’s news. The relief I feel at hearing it is a salve to the hurt he caused when he just walked away after we hooked up in the early morning.
So why did he walk away? Not once, but twice? Why hasn’t he told me any of this, if it’s even true?
The announcers calling the game catch my attention, and I turn my focus to the screen, my heart fluttering as Tristan’s handsome face fills the shot.
We have a lot to talk about.