CHAPTER TWENTY
SONYA
The Mustangs won their games in a shutout. Getting to witness Walker experience his first game was something else entirely. Between the absolute horror in his eyes when Dylan slammed into the boards directly in front of us with bone-crushing silence to the joy when he spun around the player, stole the puck and passed it to Fitz who was wide open and sunk it into the corner of the net. I got to watch him fall in love with the game, and the energy that fills the packed arena all cheering on the same team.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Dylan asks, slapping his hand down on Walker’s shoulder when he settles in next to us at the bar. “Did we win you over? Officially a Mustangs fan?”
Walker laughs with a nod of his head. “Definitely think I might have to make this a regular thing. You’re impressive, man.”
“That’s what they tell me.” Dylan’s grin takes up his whole face as he throws his arms around us, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I’ll leave the two of you to it, but thank you for coming. It means a lot. If you ever want to come again, let Sunny know, and I’ll make sure they set another ticket aside for you.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll take you up on that.”
Dylan squeezes his shoulder before stepping away to celebrate with his teammates after a fantastic game. My lips curl up when I see the look of awe on Walker’s face, his eyes trailing after him and toward the group of massive hockey players. “Falling in love, Cowboy?”
“Huh?” Walker turns to look at me, a blush creeping up his neck. “Sorry, I’m just fascinated. I’ve never been a sports person, but watching that was exhilarating. I had no idea you were such a hockey fan.”
“I’m not. I’m just a Dylan fan.”
Truth be told, I couldn't care less about hockey. I started going for Dylan, excited to cheer him on and support something he is passionate about. The moment we met, it became clear to me that his support system was slowly falling apart. He hides it well, but it weighs on him, and while he’s never asked for it, I’m going to support him any way I can—even if it only comes in the form of me screaming at some plexiglass.
“You’re a good friend, Sunny.” Walker reaches up to tuck some loose hair behind my ear. His thumb trails down the length of my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine as he takes his hand back. “You show up for your people. I think it might be my favorite thing about you.”
“Yeah? You’re sure it’s not my ass?” I tease. “I’ve heard it’s a fan favorite.”
“I’m not answering that.”
I grin and pat his chest gently. “It’s okay. I know,” I tell him, and take a step back from the bar when I see the pool table in the back corner open. “Come on, let’s play a game.”
“You play pool now? You’re just full of surprises.”
“Maybe I just want you to put your arms around me and show me how to do it.”
He lifts his brow in question, my answer coming in the form of a laugh. Sometimes, I think I could just stare at him forever. His beauty is almost haunting. I could easily spend my days getting lost in the grey of his eyes. Watching the steady rise and fall of his broad shoulders. Soaking in his smile that most days feels like maybe it might be all for me.
“Sunny?” Walker asks, knocking me out of my daydream.
I hum, tilting my head back to meet his eyes.
“You’re staring.”
“Do you blame me? You’re pretty to look at, Cowboy.”
“That a fact?” he asks, racking the balls while I grab two cue sticks off the far wall.
Nodding my head, I lean my hip into the side of the oak table and watch him gather the billiard balls from the pockets. The way he manages to hold three in one hand sends heat directly to my core. “It’s definitely in the history books.”
“You’re staring again.”
“Yeah, well, stop being so hot,” I say, shaking my head when he steps back towards me after putting the rack back. “You’re really distracting, Walker.”
“I’m a distraction now?” He lifts an eyebrow in my direction, a smile playing on the corner of his lips, and I just know he’s enjoying this. Maybe a little too much.
It’s kind of hard not to be attracted to Walker when he walks around looking like a modern-day Clark Kent. The Henry Cavill one. Something about the slight curl to his dark hair, the crystal-clear shade of his eyes, and the glasses that frame them do something for me. I have just been subtle about my attraction. It felt like the safest option, but now that we’re throwing all the rules out the window, I’m throwing the keeping my mouth shut about how utterly gorgeous he is out, too.
I slide my hand over his hip when he steps into me and toward the back pocket of his jeans. “The absolute best kind. You’re kind of beautiful.”
“Only kind of?”
A smile fills my face as I shake my head, bumping him to the side to line up my shot. I lean over the table, making sure to give him the perfect view of my ass.
My focus goes to the cue ball and the rack waiting to be broken. I pull the stick back slightly, lining it up with the ball over the bridge created between my thumb and index finger, about to take my hit, when he purposely brushes up against me. The bulge in his jeans rubs up against the curve of my ass.
“Cowboy, are you trying to throw me off?” I ask, peeking over my shoulder to find the simmering look in his eyes.
“Me? I would never do that to you,” he says, biting down on his bottom lip to hide the growing grin on his face and failing miserably at it. He’s making this into another kind of game, and I’m not above playing dirty.
Humming, I strike the cue ball and send it down the length of the table to meet the rainbow of balls waiting for it. The crack echoes through the bar as I straighten up, resting the bottom of the cue stick on the dark hardwood floorboards. One of the striped balls sinks into the corner pocket, determining which I’ll be shooting for.
“You should know better than to try and distract me.”
“I don’t know about that, Sunny,” he says, leaning down till his lips are brushing along the shell of my ear. The dusting of facial hair tickles my skin. “I’m just standing here. It’s not my fault you can’t control yourself.”
I tilt my head back, meeting his eyes. “You think you have better control than me?”
“I’m almost certain.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Please,” he says, holding his arms out. “Prove me wrong.”
Wetting my lips, I stand a little taller and move out from under his tall frame. “Gladly,” I say, leaning down to line up my next shot. “Are we calling our shots?”
He shakes his head, resting his hand on top of the cue stick to watch me. “Surprise me.”
Loosening my grip, I adjust my hand and hit the ball near the bottom, sending the striped ten ball into the corner pocket and the cue ball gently back towards me. Walker lets out a low whistle, making me smile as I send another ball into the middle pocket. I move to line up my next shot directly across from him when he crouches down and folds his arms over the edge of the table to meet my eyes.
“You’re not going to distract me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous,” he teases.
I’m stuck on the word gorgeous and how it sounds coming from him. Thick like honey, in a warm and sticky way that won’t ever leave me. Even when this is all over, that word in his voice will follow me everywhere I go.
I don’t think I’d want it any other way. I don’t think I want him any other way.
The weight of that strikes me in the center of my chest, and at the same time, I strike the cue ball, hitting it harder than I mean to and watch it miss the pocket completely. Swallowing, I push up to a stand and press my lips together in a thin line as I watch him. Amusement coats his face, the twinkle in his eyes and a wide grin on his face, knowing he successfully threw me off.
But he did a lot more than that.
I can feel myself losing grip on reality.
Sure, I find Walker attractive. Maybe more so than I’ve ever found anyone, but that doesn’t mean anything. He is attractive. Anyone would agree with that. And maybe I liked having him between my thighs. I wasn’t kidding when I said he made me needy. I feel like I’m on fire now, knowing exactly what his skin feels like on mine.
It’s the butterflies currently flying around my chest that are new.
It’s uncharted territory, and they mean something. Not because Walker has suddenly become a new person, one I don’t know how to talk to and makes me nervous, but because he’s exactly the same. He’s Walker. My Walker, and now his name comes with the addition of a flutter. A flutter I cannot afford to feel, not now. Not when we agreed to this.
Sex and friends.
That is what we are, and it’s what we need to stick to because I’m not sure my heart can handle anything else. My grip is slipping, and I need to get it together before everything completely undoes, and I’m left with pieces that no longer fit together.
“My turn,” he says, moving around to the perfect spot.
I shift on my feet, taking in the crowd around us. The patrons have slowly started to thin out, and my gaze moves to the hall leading to the bathrooms. Turning my head, I take in Walker’s long frame folded over the table. His lips press together in a thin line, his tongue poking out the side as he lines up his shot, and I take this as my opportunity to find new handholds.
“You win,” I say, moving to put my cue stick back on the wall.
He lifts his head in silent question, and my answer comes in the form of action. Taking the cue stick from his hand, I push it back into its hold on the wall before taking his hand and pulling him across the makeshift dance floor and towards the bathrooms.
I used to make fun of Dylan for doing this, but I’m starting to get it now.
This. Not a bed, it feels unattached in a way I need.
“Sunny, what are we doing?”
A sigh of relief leaves my lips when I find the hall is empty, my free hand coming to push the door to the bathroom open and lean in to peek. When I see it’s empty, I open it wider and step inside before turning to him. Amusement seems to have found residency on his face when he steps in behind me and leans back into the door to shut it as my hand moves to turn the lock.
“Care to explain why we’re in the women’s bathroom?” he asks, his shoulders pressing into the wood. For a second, I let myself wonder what would happen if I let this feeling of uncertainty root in my chest. If instead of doing something to stomp it down, I let it grow.
The chances of losing Walker would increase with it. There’d be more petals to grow, more to dry up and flutter to the ground if I don’t pay them enough attention. It causes fear to scrap at my ribcage because the idea of not having Walker in my life is not one I care to entertain. I truly don’t know how I am supposed to survive without him.
“Sunny?”
“I’m in my head.” I swallow, stepping back towards the wall of sinks. I suddenly feel hot all over, like I might combust into flames if I don’t do something soon. “You called me gorgeous, and it freaked me out.”
“Freaked you out how?” He steps away from the door and comes to stand next to me, keeping to himself. He’s being his thoughtful self, not wanting to set me off when all I really want is to have his hands on me. To calm me down under the rough touch of his palm on my smooth skin. I need him to get me out of my head.
Turning away from the mirror, I step into him and rest my hands on his forearms. The grip he has on his pockets, likely to keep himself from reaching for me, loosens. I pull them towards me until his hands are in my back pockets instead. “This is just sex, right?”
His eyebrows knit together as he studies me. “That’s what you want it to be, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say, curling my fingers into the fabric covering his arms. The word feels wrong, though. It feels as though I’ve pressed a stamp across my chest, branding myself a liar. Like saying no would be the more honest answer.
Except it’s not. It can’t be.
We’re friends. Just friends and that’s all we’ve ever been.