Sebastian #2
A few minutes later, the game ends with a win for us, and the team makes their way into the locker room.
“Good game tonight,” Coach says, launching into his post-game speech, and I force myself to pay attention.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have much to say since we played a pretty clean game. He and the rest of the coaching staff leave, and I take a quick shower and get dressed.
“Someone’s in a rush,” Wes says.
I scoff. He laughs.
“Have a good night. Take care of Sutton.” He winks.
I throw up my hand in a silent goodbye before exiting the locker room.
The drive to my condo is short, and I quietly let myself into the house, unsure whether Sutton will be asleep or not. It’s a little after ten, but I have no idea what time she normally goes to bed. I hope that if she is asleep, I don’t wake her.
Bert and Ernie greet me at the door, weaving through my legs, and I lean down and scratch their heads before toeing off my dress shoes.
I’ve never thought of myself as a cat person, yet here I am, already forming a bond with Sutton’s cats.
At least that’s what I think it is. I don’t really know. I’ve never had pets.
Don’t get me wrong, I like animals just fine.
I grew up on a farm, and we had cats, but they were outdoor working cats.
They kept the rodents at bay. They were well taken care of and had shelter and food, but we didn’t play with them or pet them.
So this is my first experience with pets, and I don’t hate it, even if it’s only been a day.
I take off my jacket and throw it over my arm then loosen my tie as I walk farther inside.
“Hey you,” Sutton greets me from her perch on a stool at the kitchen counter, cradling a mug against her chest.
“Hey.” I beam at her. It’s nice to come home to someone for once in my life. Only thing better would be if she’d also been in the stands, wearing my number, cheering me on. Maybe one day. “I’m gonna change, and then I was going to warm up some food. You hungry?”
“No. Thanks though.”
I make my way into my bedroom to change into something comfortable. I snag a pair of sweatpants—gray sweatpants, using what I’ve got to my advantage—and a Storm shirt. Once changed, I head back into the kitchen. I notice that Sutton gives me a once-over, and I hide my grin by perusing the fridge.
“How was your day?” I ask, grabbing one of the pre-made meals my chef made for me this week. I take the top off and pop it into the microwave.
“You got into a fight.”
I peek over at her, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “I did. Guy messed with my captain. Couldn’t let him get away with it.” I grab a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with cold water from the pitcher in the fridge, drinking half of it before refilling it.
“True. He had it coming.”
The microwave beeps, having finished heating up my food, and I take it out, grab a fork, and sit next to her.
I feel her eyes on me as I eat a few bites of the baked ziti and chicken.
“That smells good.”
I turn, offering her my fork that’s loaded with pasta.
Her gaze bounces between me and the food.
After a few seconds she takes it from me and eats it before handing me back the fork.
I take my own bite, trying not to think about the fact that she just had her mouth wrapped around my fork. I wish it was on my lips instead.
“That was delicious.”
“Want more?” I offer her another forkful.
She hesitates. “I don’t want to eat your food. I’m sure you’re starving.”
I shake the fork. “Eat it. There’s plenty more in the fridge.”
She accepts the food, and I’m glad to share it with her. We polish off the dish, passing the fork back and forth.
I know I could have warmed her up her own bowl, but there was something special, something intimate, about sharing food with her.
I’ll take any chance I can get to be close to her.
When the pasta is gone, I heat up another serving.
She accepts a few more bites before she says she’s full, and I finish the meal by myself.
“Thanks for sharing.” She bumps my shoulder with her own.
“Of course. There’s probably one or two in the freezer if you want them for lunch the rest of the week.” I make a mental note to text my chef in the morning and ask her to make this same recipe next week and make extra for Sutton.
“Thanks.” She yawns, which triggers me to also yawn.
“Ready for bed?” I ask her. “I need to pack for the trip, but it shouldn’t take me too long.”
“Yep.” She gets to her feet, bringing her cup to the sink, and I watch her.
I can’t stop looking at her. I’ve always thought she was gorgeous, but something about seeing her relaxed in my condo makes her seem even more beautiful to me. Plus, I swear she’s glowing. Probably the pregnancy glow I’ve always heard about but didn’t believe was real.
But this is temporary. She’s already made it clear that she’s not interested in anything with me, and I respect that. I might hate it. But I respect it.
So I’ll be the best friend to her I can be. Support her in any way she’ll let me. Be there for her. Although I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wishing she was mine.