21. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Scarlett
“It’s too much,” I grumble at the reflection staring back at me. The skinny jeans, flowy top, makeup. All of it. Ripping the shirt over my head and sliding off my jeans, I rifle through the drawers for a pair of sweats before heading to the closet for one of my father’s old Smokies hoodies.
Studying my appearance in the mirror, I pull at the bottom of the blue sweatshirt, tilting my head.
Now it looks like I’m not trying at all.
Throwing my hands up, I groan.
Tonight is the first time in weeks Steven and I will be alone. He’s coming over to help me sort through some questionnaires ‘Emma’ received over the last week.
It’s also the perfect opportunity to find out if there’s anyone who my best friend might be interested in getting to know better.
He’s helped me with this type of stuff before, but it is the first time it’ll be in person. When we met over video, I didn’t feel this nervous. Nor was I intentionally planning to read his reaction to every woman we talked about.
Tonight I’m both.
My phone buzzes, making my already pounding heart pound faster. Taking a giant stride, I scoop up my phone from the nightstand.
Steven
Be there in ten.
Scarlett
With my heart thudding gently against my ears, I grab a hair tie and pull my hair into a loose bun. Then I rush around the apartment straightening up.
A knock on the door, followed by an ‘It’s me,’ makes my insides somersault.
“One second.”
Exhaling, I reach a hand out toward the doorknob, then freeze to take one last look at my reflection, smoothing down a stray hair.
Unable to stop the grin that splits my face, I pull open the door. Steven’s holding a pizza box with three bags on top. Pushing his way through the door, his fresh scent and the warmth from his body rush over me as he brushes past. The gentle touch leaves me frozen, staring after him.
My best friend is objectively handsome, and his fan club, the ‘Bennett’s Bunnies’, would use the term gorgeous.
But this is the first time he’s been in my apartment bringing me dinner.
And it has my insides reacting in a way that’s making me want to throw my promise, along with my ‘no kissing’ rule, out the window.
Snapping my mouth shut, I shake my head and take a deep breath. “Did you invite a gaggle of people I’m unaware of? Like your brothers?”
Checking down the stairs to find it empty, I close the door and follow him to the small table in the corner of my living room. The smell of not one, but three, of my favorite meals has my mouth watering.
When he glances over his shoulder, his green eyes sparkling, the corner of his mouth quirks up; my breath catches.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed a few of your favorites.”
Oh my. Steven has always been considerate, but something about this moment has my knees weakening. When his eyes slide up my outfit, stopping at the Smokies’ logo, something in his expression shifts before a smile stretches across his face.
“I see you're dressed for the occasion.” He turns back to the bags, lifting each dinner and placing them on the table. “But you’re wearing the wrong team sweatshirt.”
“Ha. My father would disagree.” Making my way toward the kitchen, I reach up into the cabinet and pull out two plates and silverware. Steven slides up beside me, gently taking everything from my hand. When his fingers brush mine, sparks shoot down to my toes.
Quickly turning away, I pull out two glasses.
“That’s true,” Steven says, rummaging through the empty bags. “Looks like I forgot drinks.”
“No worries, I have some Polar seltzer water. Is that good?”
“Do you have Raspberry Lime?” He asks, just as my hand wraps around that exact flavor for him, while grabbing a Triple Berry for me.
“Of course! Ice?”
“Neat, please.”
“Neat.” My lips twitch at his response. Popping open his can first, I angle the glass, slowly pouring the fizzy liquid into the cup. “I forgot you said that.”
“Guess there are some things my dad used to say that stuck.”
When he slides up next to me, tiny pricks of heat run over my face. My lungs freeze, and the tiny kitchen suddenly feels claustrophobic.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Our eyes meet for a moment, and my stomach pitches.
His footsteps move back to the table while I fill my glass with a trembling hand. Focusing on my breath, I work to slow the rapid beating of my heart that’s solely reacting to this man in my home.
Once I get back to the table and see the Chicken Marsala, garlic bread with cheese, and some penne, my heart clenches.
Then I notice the pizza. Plain with extra cheese. My cheeks pull up.
The spread isn't just favorites; they are my first choice, Moretti’s favorites. Steven places a folded napkin and fork next to my plate, then meets my gaze.
“Why are you looking at me like you didn’t just see me this morning?” Referencing our daily morning coffee routine at The Bleacher Bean.
My fingers ache to reach out and grab his hand; instead, I pull the long sleeves of my sweatshirt over my fingers. “I forgot how much I enjoy dinner nights with you. In person.”
His expression softens, and without thinking, I slowly wrap my arms around his neck, tucking my head in the crook.
When his arms slide around my back, pulling me flush against him, my body relaxes, and a contented sigh escapes.
“I’ve missed this too, Scar.” He whispers against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
My arms tighten, and he responds by pulling me closer. Both of us content to just stand here. In each other’s arms, pushing the boundaries of the rules I’ve established.
No. We can’t happen.
I shove the nagging voice down, and let myself indulge in this guilty pleasure.
As if knowing what I’m doing, my stomach chooses that moment to growl, and we both chuckle.
“Let’s get you fed, James.” Steven gives me one last squeeze before stepping away. My body immediately misses the warmth of his, as I watch him move to the other side of the table. “We know how you get when you’re hungry. Besides, we have a lot to get through tonight.”
Winking at me, he sits, then starts putting food on his plate. Pulling out the chair across from him, he passes over a plate, leaving his hand out for the empty one in front of me.
“Thank you.”
I can’t help but watch him. His actions are mesmerizing. I clear my throat in an attempt to get rid of the urge that has me wanting to move to his side of the table and climb into his lap.
The urge to be close to him is overwhelming. Instead, I rip a piece of my garlic bread and ask. “Tell me all the ways Uncle Dunky tortured you at practice today.”
My finger lifts the bread to my mouth, and I bite into the buttery, cheesy crunchiness that is the best cheesy garlic bread in the entire world.
When I glance back at Steven, he’s watching me; the intensity in his eyes has me swallowing hard.
“He had Reeves covering me.” He drags his eyes back to the slice of pizza he’s holding, and brings it to his mouth, biting off half the slice. When finished, he takes a swig of his seltzer. Leaning toward his left side gingerly, he winces. “Hard. Colt can be a bit overzealous of his job.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” I laugh. Certain that whatever happened, Steven’s probably a bit bruised. Colton Reeves is one of the best right-side defensemen in the league. I have no doubt that he practices just as hard as he plays.
In fact, I’ve seen him in action at practice and games.
“Declan and I had a talk today.”
My fork freezes mid-air. “About?”
Steven heaves a sigh, his gaze focused on the pizza he’s holding, lips pressed together.
“Oh.” Resting my fork on my plate, I bring my glass to my mouth and take a sip. “How do you feel about it?”
Steven puts his slice down and rakes a hand through his hair. “I think he’s sincere, and Dad would want me to be the bigger person in this situation.”
Nodding, I watch him intently and wait.
His brow is furrowed, and his eyes are focused off in the distance.
“Do you trust him?” I finally ask when the silence stretches on.
Pulling off a piece of crust, he shoves it in his mouth, swallowing. “Not fully. But I can’t deny that he seems sincere.”
“He’s different,” I say, nodding.
Steven dips his chin. “And it’s because of Millie.”
My brows shoot past my hairline. “Steven Bennett! Were you fishing for information?”
His mouth twitches, and I feel my lips quirk up in response.
“Maybe.”
My cheeks pull up, and I beam at him.
“You’re a bad influence.” He throws back at me. “And I hate that you were right about him. I also think setting him and Millie up might be a smart idea.”
“Oh good.” Biting into my room-temperature pizza. “Because Dec submitted a questionnaire to ‘Emma’ the other day!”
Steven’s eyes widen, and he nods.
“Hurry up and finish.” I pick up my plate and stand. “We have to get to work.”