CHAPTER FIVE #2
“You nailed every single one.” Coach stared at me long enough that I swore his eye twitched. “Get your ass dressed and out there. She’s waiting for you.”
I stared a moment longer than had ever been considered socially acceptable. “She?” I repeated.
Coach growled at me. “Unless she is the he who we weren’t talking about last night. But then, the dude doesn't appear to be your style.”
“I have a style?” I grabbed a Chimeras branded jersey—I thought it was mine—and yanked it over my head. It swam on me, so it probably wasn’t. “Wait. There's a dude?”
“That’s mine. Take it off.” Valentine stalked forward through the steam.
I held up my hands, glad my towel stayed tucked in so I didn't flash the room, helicopter style. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I turned tail and fled before Valentine could do more than mutter curses.
He could catch up with me later. The ground was hard underfoot and probably unhygienic as well.
Coach muttered about impulse urges and hormones as I passed him, then I was out of the locker rooms, tearing barefoot and half-dressed along the stadium’s tunnels.
The parking lot stood in full sun, though nothing was scheduled to be on at the arena at this time of day. The few vehicles were scattered about, mostly belonging to the players, as well as the office workers for the Chimeras’ home club, but it didn't take me more than a second to find Felicity.
She stood beside my car, wearing one of my button down shirts over her jeans from last night.
The sleeves were rolled loose to her elbows, and she still wasn't wearing a bra. The material cascaded over her in a way I knew I’d never be able to see that shirt the same way ever again.
I jogged over to her, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that bit into the soles of my feet.
“Flick? What are you doing here? Did you walk?” It was eight blocks from my place to the stadium. Not a huge distance, but far enough that when I’d had a flat tire one morning and found that I hadn’t maintained the spare as well as I should, those eight blocks also earned me punishment laps.
Her arms crossed over her waist, tugging my shirt in tight. “I wanted to find you,” she said, her voice tight.
“I’m right here, sweetness,” I said softly, reaching out with one hand to stroke her arm. “I like my shirts on you. That should be what you wear from now okay?” It was a joke, or meant to be one, but my voice came out too soft and low.
Her eyes raised to meet mine, and tears swam in them. “He was there. And…here.”
My stomach cramped. “Who?” I grated out, my mind whirling, but there was only one real option I came up with. “Garry-boy?”
An unwilling sound that might have been a giggle elicited from her lips. “Is that what you call him?”
“Uh huh.” I cupped her cheek, letting her warm skin rest soft against my rougher palm. “That asshole came to my house?” How the hell did he know where I lived? “Wait. He followed you here?”
She winced and started to draw back from me. Her wordless retreat hurt more than anything a second time around, but I wasn't having that. Not again.
I tangled her hair in my fist and removed the option for her, holding her close. My grip was loose, but the look in my eyes warned her not to pull away. “Sweetness, you’re gonna tell me everything about why your ex knows where I live and that you were there.”
Felicity’s face paled. For an already fair skinned woman, that was one hell of a feat. “He knew so much about you, Knox,” she whispered. “All about your history, what car you drive, where you live… Your favorite pizza topping. Stuff I didn't know.”
Not anymore.
The unspoken admission hung between us, a reminder of shared history, and the absent years between.
My heart panged. “So you weren't my little stalker after all.” I released my grip on her hair as disappointment slammed into me, chest first.
“What? That’s not—Knox, please,” she pleaded.
“If you want me to stalk you, I'll do it. Just right now, this is him.” She slapped at my arm in emphasis when I backed off. A tiny, frustrated sound emitted from between her clenched teeth, and it was cute as all hell. “If you don’t get back here and listen to me, I’ll pull your towel off. ”
“In broad daylight? You are cruel.” I smirked. No doubt someone would get a picture of that and be well paid by the press for their efforts.
“That’s not the point.”
“Of course that's the point.” I clicked my tongue at her. “My ass always makes a good headline.”
Flick stopped bitching me out and stared. “Just how often does your butt feature on the front page?” She paused when I didn’t so much as flinch. “Or social media?” she guessed shyly.
I stared down, coiling my fingers through her hair and reeled her in. “Only when I choose, sweetness. Today isn’t that day.” I leaned down and brushed my lips across hers. “Tell me Garry-boy reads the papers.”
“He reads the papers.”
“Good.”
I kissed her in the middle of the parking lot, in my towel, and prayed she wouldn’t rip it off me just because I sassed her.
Soft lips opened beneath mine with little resistance.
Flick sighed as I pulled her into my chest, submitting to my need as she did last night.
I slid my tongue into her warmth and rediscovered the sweet taste of her, though I hated the idea of her scent on my borrowed shirt.
Right now I only wanted her rubbing up against my damn jersey.
I should have given Valentine his back when he damn well asked for it.
“Hey. Fuck boy. I’m gonna be in shit if my number smells like another man’s woman.” Valentine broke up our make out session on cue.
“Timing,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth, wondering if I was about to lose my towel and my shirt all at once. But my team mate, always the immoveable object, stayed put. I slipped one arm around Flick’s waist and pulled the Chimeras’ goalie’s jersey off one handed. “Trade?”
Valentine grunted. I caught the armload of clothes he held out, along with my keys, dressing under and over my towel without letting Flick go.
“Is the asshole ex still there, sweetness, at mine?” He sure as hell wasn’t skulking around the parking lot.
If the boys saw him earlier, he was long gone now.
“Because V Boy here has a small obsession about what to do with those who touch things that don’t belong to them. ”
Flick looked up at the oversized Black man and offered the sweetest little finger wave. “Hi?”
“Hi, tiny girl,” Valentine rumbled. He glanced at me. “Call me if you need help.” His haze held mine, and I knew he meant it. “I’m off for a drink with Rip. He and his woman are…struggling. Trevon said he’d step in with his housemate if there’s a…need.”
I blew out a breath, tightening my hold on Flick as I ripped off my towel to reveal the sweats I’d pulled on underneath.
“Good luck to our new winger, I guess. And our mascot.” But right now, neither of the housemates were my problem.
The girl in my arms, however, was. “Are you ready to head home?” I pressed a kiss to the top of Felicity’s head.
“Home?” she echoed, the lilt in her voice making the single syllable a question.
“I promised I’d get your things. So maybe we do have to put up with Garry boy for a little while. Then we have a date.” I trail my fingers along her back until she nodded and leaned into me.
Then I had my answer, and a plan.