Chapter 16
Sloane
It’d been a little over a week since our return to reality. Thankfully, after a week of being on edge, there hadn’t been any run-ins with Stu. Not that I was letting my guard down anytime soon, but it was nice to relax, even just a little.
Things with Rhys had been… off.
We were in this little bubble in Denver, and that bubble burst the second we boarded the plane back to Boston. Things had felt… almost real.
And then all of a sudden, they weren’t.
We were back to being friends who put on a show, sleeping in separate beds and living separate lives, aside from a couple of scheduled social media posts.
I couldn’t tell if he was worried about Stu or if something else was bothering him, but every time I brought it up, he brushed me off and told me everything was fine.
We had breakfast together and talked about the coach’s upcoming birthday party, but it felt like he had a guard up. He was holding something back.
A part of me wondered if he was missing Denver as much as I was.
But I had no clue how to approach that subject.
How the hell do I ask my best friend, who I was contractually obligated to date, if he also felt like things were verging on real?
How the hell could I even ask Rhys that question when I was still trying to figure out the answer for myself?
***
Several hours later, I found myself sitting behind the dugout once again, the hot June sun beating down on me relentlessly. It was almost seven. There was still at least an hour before the sun set, and both Cami and I were covered in sweat.
I flagged down the beer vendor, snagging two for Cam and me, immediately pressing the cold can to my neck. “Why don’t we sit with the WAGs again?”
She snorted, pushing her sunglasses further up her nose. “Because we’re antisocial weirdos.”
Rhys had once again offered to let us sit in the reserved suite, but since I knew Cami was coming tonight, I opted for my seat behind the dugout, which was apparently on reserve for the rest of the season.
I checked my watch, then looked at the field, and all the players were still going through their warmups before the game. My fingers tapped against the plastic armrests. “Do you think I have time to talk to Rhys before the game?”
Cami shrugged, also checking her watch, then glancing at the field. “Probably for a minute. Everything okay?”
I shrugged. “Gonna find out.”
After taking a long pull from my beer, I stood and walked towards the dugout, hoping to snag Rhys’s attention.
It wasn’t likely a little pep talk from me would help pull him out of his head, but who knows. I had to try something since it was likely my fault he was having a rough day to begin with.
Rhys was further onto the field, facing away from the dugout, but my second-best chance of getting his attention stood only a few feet away. “Psst!”
Dom turned around, smiling up at me and squinting against the sun. “Sloane! What’s up, beautiful?”
I raised a brow and laughed. “I’m telling your wife. Can you grab Rhys? I need to talk to him real fast.”
“You good?” he asked, his tone and expression turning cautious.
“Yeah, it’s not… him. I just wanna talk.”
“Give me a sec,” Dom called back before he jogged onto the field, heading in Rhys’s direction. He jabbed his elbow into his side, earning a smack from Rhys before pointing back at me. I smiled and lifted my hand in a wave, and Rhys nodded, signaling he would just be a second.
When Dom made his way back over, he jerked his chin toward the concealed opening behind home plate. “Head down there, he’ll be there in just a second.”
“Thank ya, sir.” I offered a sloppy salute and walked over to wait for Rhys.
He jogged my way after a few minutes, and I had to try embarrassingly hard not to pay attention to the way the heat made his jersey cling to his body or the way his thighs flexed against the tight fabric of his baseball pants.
My mind had been all sorts of confused since Denver.
Our time away planted all kinds of crossed wires in my head.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Rhys or this whole situation.
But for some reason, my mind seemed more and more open to the possibility that maybe something more could come from this fake relationship.
Maybe we could make a cute couple.
Maybe Rhys was also feeling all those conflicting feelings, too, and I wasn’t entirely alone in that.
There wasn’t enough liquid courage swirling around in my bloodstream to broach that topic, though.
“What’s up?” Rhys asked, pulling the door open so that a wall and a thin net no longer separated us.
I looked up at my best friend, his green eyes staring down at me with cautious curiosity. “Everything’s okay. I’m okay.”
He nodded, exhaling a sharp breath as his features softened. “Good. I was nervous that… he might be here.”
“No, nothing like that.” I smiled softly, developing a new appreciation for Rhys and the way he cared for me. “Is that why you’ve been off? Are you worried about him showing up?”
His cheeks, which were already tinged pink from the ninety-nine-degree temperature, somehow darkened. “Have I been… off?”
“Just a little.”
“Hm.” That was all I got in return.
I took a step closer, and his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you okay? It’s been a weird few weeks, and I just wanted to check up on you. I feel like you’ve been doing all the checking in, and I missed something.”
He shrugged, shaking his head a little. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. You don’t have to check up on me.”
Maybe I was falling a little too deep into this ‘fake relationship’, but when my fingers itched to touch him, I didn’t fight it. I reached up, cupping his jaw with my hand. “Don’t lie to me.”
Rhys took a shaky breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
Okay. Maybe he was just as affected by this as I was.
“I’m not lying.” The raspy edge to his voice gave me the confidence I didn’t know I needed.
I rolled my eyes, draping my arms over his shoulders. “Is this couple-y?” I asked, my voice low.
“Yeah, I would say it’s pretty couple-y.” He nodded, his hands finding my hips. I desperately tried to ignore the way his fingers dug into the denim of the shorts I was wearing and the way my heart fluttered in response.
“Kick ass, Armstrong. Forget about… him. He’s not here. I’m okay. I’m sitting with Cami, and he knows not to fuck with her. Also, I’m pretty sure his favorite sport is bowling.”
Rhys snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t know why, but that makes a lot of sense.”
We both laughed, my forehead falling against his chest, his muscles visibly less tense than when he’d first walked over.
“He doesn’t matter anymore, Rhys.” I stood up straight, making sure I had his full attention.
“I mean, only in a romantic sense—obviously, the stalking and harassing matter. But I don’t have feelings for him anymore.
I don’t even know if I had feelings for him while we were dating, to be honest.”
Rhys pulled away, my arms dropping to my side, and he reached up to cup my chin. “I know, Pip. I just hate seeing you scared. That’s all. I worry about you.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth to suppress a smile, but failed. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about your game. Because if you don’t win, you’re sleeping on the street tonight. I don’t let losers into my apartment.”
“Our apartment,” he corrected with a roll of his eyes.
“Armstrong, let’s go!”
Rhys’s hand dropped from my face as his coach hollered for him to return to the dugout.
“Get back to Cami, I’ll see you after the game.
” I nodded and turned away, only to be stopped by Rhys’s finger looping through one of my belt loops.
“I gotta kiss your cheek or something. You know, for the cameras watching.”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry and craving my beer. “Just the cheek?” I had no clue where that came from, but I couldn’t take it back.
Rhys’s mouth twitched, a small, crooked smile forming on his lips.
Something passed between us. A mutual understanding that we both knew we were playing with fire.
“Just… for the cameras.” My eyes flickered to his lips, unsure of where this confidence came from. Did I really want Rhys to kiss me?
It felt a little wrong. I knew I didn’t need to kiss him. It was… experimental. Maybe I would feel something. Maybe I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t know unless I tried. Again. Before, I was completely closed off to the idea of developing feelings for each other. Since our time together in Denver, my mind seemed to open to the possibility of our interactions being less platonic than I’d originally thought.
Rhys’s hand slid around my waist, then lowered to the small of my back. His pinky brushed against my back pocket, and a breath trembled out of me. My gaze slid back up to meet his, but his eyes were locked onto my lips. His tongue swept against his bottom lip. “Cameras, right?” he murmured.
“Armstrong!”
“Now or never, Pip.”
Fuck it.
I stretched up, using one hand on his shoulder to steady myself, the other snaking around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled his mouth to mine.
I could feel Rhys smiling against my lips, his hand gripping me closer to his body.
It was a short kiss. Surely, nothing to write home about. But when Rhys pulled away, I mourned the loss. Every molecule in my body ached for his touch, to be pulled back in.
He licked his lips, tasting the cherry Chapstick I wore as he shut the gate, smirking the entire time.
I stood there for a second, my chest heaving, heart pounding against my ribs. My whole body tingled from head to toe, and this time, I couldn’t blame any kiss or feeling on the alcohol.