Chapter 35
Evie
Once the first three plates are ready, Zane passes them out to the guys in turn.
Then he makes a big deal of fixing me a plate.
Playing along, I motion to the guys. “Don’t wait for us.
Eat while it’s hot.” Somehow, I manage to keep a straight face when I say it.
I watch with bated breath as all three of them shove a huge mouthful into their mouths.
Quint’s the first to react. His eyes go wide, and he looks like he’s going to throw up.
Reid frowns and moves the food around on his plate a moment.
Then he looks up and sees my expression.
He shakes his head and gets to his feet, crossing over to the fridge and getting out the milk.
“What is that?” Quint asks, panting. Zane turns to me, a huge grin on his face and gives me a high five.
I can’t help but grin back at him. “I hate you two,” Quint mumbles before heading into the kitchen and snatching the milk out of Reid’s hands.
He doesn’t even bother with a cup. He throws back the jug and gulps it down.
“Quint.” Reid shakes his head.
I face Slate who’s still eating like nothing’s wrong.
“Slate has an iron stomach,” Zane says close to my ear.
He stands right next to me, his shoulder right behind mine.
He's not touching me, but it’s close. We both stare at Slate.
“Wait for it,” Zane says against my ear.
This time, I can’t contain my shiver. As if he knows the effect he’s having on me, he shifts closer.
His shoulder is touching mine now, and I find I don’t mind it at all.
Not at all. Slate finally snaps and grabs the cup of milk from Quint’s hand before throwing it back and chugging the whole thing.
Zane and I both laugh. I laugh harder when Slate glares at me, the slightest milk mustache on his upper lip.
“Evie, Zane’s already corrupted you. You used to be so nice,” Quint bemoans.
“I didn’t corrupt her,” Zane says, shaking his head.
Was it my imagination or did he add a soft, not yet anyway?
Before I get a chance to dwell on it, Zane hands me a plate.
I look down at it, searching for the orange sauce.
“I didn’t put any on yours,” he tells me.
I carry my plate over to the small table, wondering how we’re all going to fit.
There are only two chairs and three of us looking to sit here.
I turn to Zane. “Do you have another chair somewhere I can grab?”
“Just sit on Zane’s lap, Evie,” Quint calls out.
“What?” I whirl towards him, even as my face flames. “No.”
“It’s yours if you want it,” Zane says in a low voice.
I swallow, but before I can come up with a reply, Reid stands. “You can have my seat.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine.”
“I’m done,” he says, brushing past me to drop off his plate in the dishwasher. I take his seat and stare down at the plate.
“Just try it,” Zane says, easing into the chair across from me. “It’s good.”
“I’m not really sure about the spinach and peppers and the onions. And maybe the carrots and celery.”
It goes quiet in the room, and then I hear a sputtered laugh. “You not into veggies, Evie?” Quint asks with a grin.
I throw my napkin at him and turn back to my plate.
I take a deep breath and lift my fork. I hear a sound and look up to see Zane trying to hold back a laugh.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Sorry, Evie. It’s just..
.your face. You’re really trying to psyche yourself up to eat those veggies.
” Keeping eye contact with him, I take a bite and chew, hoping I’m not going to gag.
I chew and swallow, still holding his gaze.
He gives me a sexy smile as he leans back in his chair. “It’s good, isn’t it? Admit it.”
I stare him down, refusing to admit any such thing, even though he’s right.
It is surprisingly good. His eyes start to shift as I stare him down, and his body tenses.
He leans forward, still holding my gaze.
But his eyes intensify in color, and those penetrating green eyes seem to take on a new sheen.
“Are you challenging me?” he asks, his voice gruff.
I cock an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
His entire body seems to stiffen, and his eyes drop to my lips.
I feel the intensity seem to grow between us.
He leans forward just the slightest bit, like he can’t help himself.
“Well, that was good,” Quint says loudly.
His voice has the effect of a cup of cold water.
I snap out of whatever Zane trance I was in and quickly focus on eating once again.
I don’t look at Zane again as I eat, not sure what that was.
Part of me wants to know if he felt it—that thing between us.
The other part of me is too scared to find out if it's one-sided on my part. After I finish, I copy Reid’s example and wash my dish before putting it in the dishwasher.
I keep one ear tuned to the guys’ conversation, which consists mostly just of Quint and Zane talking. Slate stays pretty quiet.
While they talk, I start washing the empty skillets. I’m actually shocked the guys ate everything. I mean, I know athletes eat a lot of food, but still. That was a lot of food they put away! “I’ll wash dishes, Evie. You cooked,” Quint says, coming into the kitchen.
“I don’t mind.”
“I’ll help her,” Zane says. Quint shrugs, washes his plate and drops it into the dishwasher and then makes his way out of the kitchen.
Zane takes the dish out of my hand right before I place it in the dishwasher, and we continue like that until all the dishes are washed.
He wipes down the counter, while I wipe down the sink.
We’re nearly finished when a sharp whistle sounds, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I whirl around to see Quint in a pair of black shorts and sneakers and no shirt. “Ready?” he asks with a grin.
“Uh,” I turn to Zane, who’s scowling at his roommate. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Sunday night, and we’re all here,” Quint says like that’s supposed to mean something. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Zane, clue the new girl in.”
“Go put a shirt on,” Zane says before turning to me. “Every Sunday night that we’re all here, we play a sport together.”
“Not to state the obvious here, but you all play sports all week long.”
“Yeah. That's why we play together for fun on Sundays. It helps us to keep a love of the game by just playing for fun,” Zane explains.
I take all this in. “What sport do you play?”
“It alternates between all our sports—soccer, football, and basketball.”
“No baseball?” I ask. He grimaces, and I can’t help my smirk. “All right. No baseball.”
“No, we do sometimes. I just really don’t like baseball.”
“Noted. So, what’s the game tonight?”
Zane grins. “Football.”
I shake my head. “Of course, it is. You rigged that didn’t you?”
“Actually, I didn’t. We played basketball last week, and it’s football this week. Want to play with us?” he asks.
“She has to play with us.” Quint says, thankfully wearing a shirt now. “I already told Reid and Slate to wear shirts, since you’re being all demanding tonight.”
“Do you not normally wear shirts?” I ask curiously.
“Sometimes,” Zane says as the same time Quint scoffs.
“We never do.”
I face Zane, who’s still scowling at Quint. “Is it because of me? I don’t care. You can do whatever you normally do.” I try to sound super casual, but I’m pretty sure I fail when Zane turns to me.
“No. All the guys are wearing shirts. Period.” He looks pointedly at Quint.
Quint grins. “Got it.” He whistles loudly again. “Slate. Reid. Let’s go!”
“Evie, you know how to throw a football?” Zane asks, looking at me over his shoulder as he starts towards the back door.
“Oh, I’m good. I’ll just grab my book and—”
“So, you do know how to throw a football, or you don’t?” Zane interrupts.
“I was homeschooled, Zane, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know basic life skills. I know how to throw a football; I’m just not that great at it.”
Zane grins. “I like the way you think. Football is a good basic life skill everybody should master.”
I blow out a breath of air. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I know.” He opens the back door and heads out. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Let me go put sneakers on real quick,” I call out to him and head to my room.
I quickly change into my sports bra, an athletic t-shirt, and a pair of shorts that I normally wear for running.
I’m outside less than two minutes later.
I take in the backyard. It’s huge. No wonder they like playing sports back here.
It’s like the size of a regular soccer field.
“Hey,” Zane says, turning to me. “Let’s pra—” his words falter a moment, and I feel a moment of uncertainty.
I glance down at myself. “Is this not okay?”
He shakes his head. “No. No, you’re fine.” Then he seems to move past it. “Let me see your throw.” I grimace. It’s one thing to throw a football around with a friend. It’s another thing altogether to throw a football to Zane Blackwood. “Come on,” he coaxes. “Before everybody gets out here.”
He does have a point. So, I do my best to wrap my fingers around the laces and throw it to him.
It doesn’t even make it half the distance to him.
“Ugh, that was terrible. Let me try again.” He chuckles and tosses it back to me easily.
I try again, and this one’s a little better.
It’s been a long time since I’ve thrown a football, and it shows.
“You’ve got a decent spiral,” Zane says as he walks towards me. “Here.” He places the ball in my hand and steps behind me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He steps close to me, putting his chest to my back.
“Helping you. When you hold the football, spread your fingers like this.” I try to do as he says, but it’s really difficult when he is almost completely surrounding me in the very best way.
His scent wraps around me almost as completely as his body does.
“Then when you throw it...” I know he’s still talking, but I’ve lost complete focus on this conversation.
All my body can focus on is the warmth of his body soaking into me and the hardness of his muscles surrounding me.
It suddenly goes quiet, and I try to remember what he said last. Want to try?
I take a quick gasp of air. “Sure. Yes. Okay.” I grimace at my incoherent babbling and focus on throwing.
Zane leaves me and walks over a few yards from me to catch.
I miss his heat immediately. I miss him.
I do my best to shake off those thoughts.
“Ready?” He nods, and I throw it, trying to remember to do everything just like he showed me.
“Great,” he says, eyes shining.
The back door opens, and Reid, Slate, and Quint join us. “Okay. Sunday night game.” Quint rubs his hands together. “What are the teams?”
“I’ll probably be a detriment to my team,” I tell them, so they know.
“Evie, you’re on my team,” Zane calls out. “Catch.”
He throws it, and I don’t quite get my hands wrapped around it. It drops, and I feel my face flush. But I bend over and pick it up. I wrap my fingers around the laces and throw it back, doing my best to throw it the way he showed me.