Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Zaiah
A dull ache surrounds my ribs. It’s not the only pain that makes its way to the surface, but it’s the worst. Nothing I haven’t felt before, thank God, and at least we can count today’s game as a win.
I put my key in the door and find it already unlocked. Pushing it open, I hear shuffling from the living room, and when I close the door behind me, Len stands in the hallway, her hands cupped around her mouth. “And with three goals and one assist, the speed demon himself, Zaiahhhhhhh James!”
I tilt my head at the announcer’s voice she’s trying to emulate. Man, she is too cute.
She shrugs. “Everyone should have a hype man. Also, I figured out your publicity problem.”
“Publicity problem?”
She places her hands on her hips. “Yes. You should be out with your teammates, cruising the town, sowing your wild oats or something.” She waves a hand dismissively.
“Sowing my wild oats? Are you in your twenties…or forties?”
“Ha. Ha. Listen, if no one else is going to act like you’re a big deal, you have to. You should be out at a bar, talking really loudly about how you beat that team’s ass today. Showing off your muscular…assets. Preening for your soon-to-be fans.”
My mouth quirks. “You think I have assets?”
She gestures toward my body. “I think, you know, all that is what most people would consider…very well…put together.”
“So, you like my assets?”
“I’m speaking generally.”
She presses her glasses up her nose, and I can’t help thinking her adorable factor is at a ten right now. She literally said sewing your wild oats and assets . “You can admit it. You were watching my assets during the game.” I feign shock with a sharp inhale of breath. “Do you think my parents noticed? How inappropriate.”
Her mouth drops, a fiery blush blazing across her cheeks. “I—”
“I’m joking.”
“I know,” she insists, raising her chin.
“I appreciate the welcome. Always love a reminder of how well I played.” I stare at her for a few more seconds. Seeing someone else in the stands to watch me always feels nice, but Len wasn’t just there casually observing, she cheered like a crazy person right along with my weird family.
“You guys really need the hype guy in the beginning.” She grabs her laptop and sits back down on the couch. “Does that cost extra or something? You’d think he would come with the arena.”
I walk cautiously to my bedroom and drop my bag before turning and facing Len, who hasn’t moved from her spot. “It’s been like that all four years.”
“Petition for some changes.”
“Too late now. Besides, I went to the media. I can feel everything changing right now.” She peers up at me, and I make the same handwriting gesture that I made after scoring the last two times. “Taking those notes? Got some good ideas?”
“Yes. Right now, they include the outright fanatical fans some players produce. Cowbells and wigs.” She sends me a glare.
“You like that, huh?” I eye up the couch, but I don’t think I can sit without hurting myself.
“You could’ve warned me about the cowbell.”
I snicker. “That was your least favorite? I thought it would be the wig.”
“The bell was noisy and drew attention to the wig.”
I lean against the couch. She can complain all she wants, but I saw something completely different. “You were having fun out there.”
“I was,” she admits, smiling to herself. “Your family’s great. Truly. Your sister and I exchanged numbers, so I have a link to the inside now.” She waggles her eyebrows like a cartoon evil mastermind. It’s possible she might’ve spent too much time with my dad today.
I chuckle, cringing when pain shoots through me. Bruised ribs, for sure. The pain is always worse after the adrenaline wears off. Hobbling into the kitchen, I grab some water and take a few gulps before refilling the glass.
As much as I’d like to stay up and talk about the article, rest is in my future. “I’m going to bed,” I announce. “Thanks for coming to support me and being good natured about it all. I’m sure my family was ridiculous.” I grit my teeth against an upsurge of pain, giving her a wave as I start for my room again.
“Oh,” she says. “Yeah, sure. Good night.”
“Night.”
I hobble to my bedroom as fast as I can and shut the door behind me. Breathing out a long exhale, I head to my attached bathroom and grab the pain reliever in the medicine cabinet. I take a few pills and then undress on my way to the bed, making sure the TV remote, my phone, and the water are next to me before attempting to lie down because I have a feeling it’s going to suck for a few seconds, and I won’t want to move for at least a few hours.
Quickly, I crawl onto the bed, wincing, but my theory is that situations like this are a Band-Aid scenario. The slower you move, the more torture you endure. Once I’m settled with pillows propped behind me, the rib pain goes back to a dull ache that the pills will take care of soon. Then I put The Curse of Oak Island on at low volume and wait to fall asleep. They haven’t found the treasure in a hundred years, so I doubt I’ll miss it tonight.
Before long, my eyelids flutter closed, and the absolute exhaustion from the game pulls me under.
I blink awake. My room is still dark. Outside, it’s pitch black out, and I shake my head a little, remembering the weird dream I was having. It was treasure related, but not The Curse of Oak Island. A girl with curly hair pops into my head, the mountains in Arizona surrounding her.
Oh, right . A couple weeks ago, my sister told me about this book she was reading. This chick gets with her stepbrother and his two best friends, but the plot was about the Superstition Mountains and the treasure that’s hidden there. A real treasure, apparently—The Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine. I’ve seen a documentary on The History Channel about it.
I shake my head. Weird fucking dream.
I shift to lie on my side, but then my body abruptly reminds me that I played a game recently. Before I can return to a comfortable position, however, a sneeze settles in my sinuses. Bracing would make it worse, so I just let it come. Pain shoots through me, and I grab my midsection. “Ah, fuck.”
I groan until I move back, the pillows resting behind me again. The stupid pain reliever wore off. If only I could get up and grab some more…
A knock sounds on the door. “Zaiah? You okay?”
For a moment, I think the voice is my sister, then my mom, then it comes back around to the fact that I’m in my dorm room and it must be Len on the other side. “I’m okay.” My voice cracks. At this point, I’m not hiding anything. “Actually,” I bite out, “could you come here?”
The door creaks open after a few seconds. Blonde strands stick out of a topknot haloed by the light in the living room. Her eyes round when she sees me. “Jeez, are you okay?”
“Sore from the game,” I force out. “I was hoping you would get me some pain reliever. It’s in my bathroom. I think I left the bottle on the sink.”
“Of course.” She heads that way. “How many?”
She shakes the pill bottle and relief floods me. “Three.”
“You sure?”
“I’m a big dude, Len.” And the fucker defenseman that hit me was even bigger.
“Fine, fine.”
She comes out with the three pills cupped in her hand and lays them out on the nightstand next to the water.
“Do you need help sitting up? What hurts?”
“Everything, but mostly my ribs.”
“Ohh, yeah. That hit in the third? Your mom flinched.”
“I swear she has a direct connection to my brain.”
“Would a heating pad help? Or some ice?”
“You have a heating pad?”
“If my cramps get too much.”
“Cramps?” I sit up far enough so I can swallow the pills and groan. “Muscle cramps?”
“Period cramps,” she deadpans.
I peer at her sheepishly. “If I could laugh without it hurting, I’d chuckle right now.” I scoot back, wincing again.
Her lips thin. “Should I call someone?”
“No, this is normal. After a big hit, at least. It’s my ribs.”
“Do you need to go to the ER?”
I shake my head. “It’s a bruise. It’ll be gone in a couple days. Promise.”
Her brow furrows, her gaze tracing over me. “Okay, well, I’m going to get you both the ice pack and the heating pad.”
“Like being at home,” I muse.
“Because you’re in Knightley now, James. You’re moving up in the world.”
I snicker as she leaves the room. When she returns, I’ve taken the pills she left me and I’m nearly knocked back out again, fighting to stay awake.
“You’re okay,” she whispers. “Sleep. I’ll take care of it.” She places the ice pack on my ribs as gingerly as possible and the heating pad right next to me. “Text me if you need something, okay? I don’t mind.”
“Isn’t it the middle of the night?”
“Yeah, but what are roommates for?”
Roommates are foul-smelling jerks. At least, in my previous experiences they were. Right now, my pain and exhaustion level want to call her an angel as she slips out of my bedroom, but I’ll settle for friend.
I wake to early morning sun streaming in through my windows, but actually it’s the shaking of my bed that did it. Through sleep-impaired eyes, I spy Len jumping up and down on one foot, her hair wild around her. “ Ow . Son of a—”
“You okay?”
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I was checking on you and stubbed my toe on your stupid bed.”
“It’s okay.” I press my hand to my ribs and notice the ice pack is gone and the heating pad is now in its place. Unless I’m losing it, I’m pretty sure the ice was there when I went to sleep.
“I switched it out,” she informs me, her foot hovering over the floor. “I figured you wouldn’t text.”
“Well, I was asleep.”
“I know. You mumble in your sleep too. How are those snakes?”
“Snakes?” I sit up slowly to test my limits and surprise hits me when the pain is less.
She disappears into my bathroom, and the shake of the pill bottle sounds. When she returns, she says, “Yeah, you were mumbling about snakes, desert, and I think I heard treasure, but that could’ve been way off base.”
“That’s Izzy’s fault.” I take the pills, drop them onto my tongue and then swallow them with the remaining water on my nightstand. “She was telling me about a book. A romance, but it was about treasure hunting.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“Izzy thinks so. She says I might even like the smut in it.”
“I’ll have to ask her for the title. Over text. With my new bestie.”
I shake my head at her full grin. “You didn’t tell her I was in pain, did you?”
“Nah, I haven’t even texted her yet. I wouldn’t do that unless you wanted me to, anyway.”
Well, that’s good to know. I search for my cell. “I should probably get up. What time is it?”
“Nine,” she tells me before I can check myself.
I yawn, and when I move my feet over the side of the bed, Len peeks at my abs, her stare lingering. She hasn’t torn her gaze away to know that I’m watching her watch me.
Since she’s taking her fill, I return the favor. A pair of athletic, dark-blue leggings hug her ass. I don’t know if it’s the design or the material, but her shape is on point. My gaze travels up to her top. A T-shirt that reads Peace, Love, and the Oxford Comma is styled to show off her body rather than hide it…just like I suggested. She’s such a good little student.
I move the blankets off me to stand, and a rush of air hits me in places it shouldn’t.
Len whirls away at the same time I abruptly pull the covers back up. Shit, I’m naked . “Sorry. I forgot.”
Peeking over her shoulder, she avoids my gaze. A cute pink hue blossoms on her cheeks. “You should have a holster for that weapon.”
“Um, what?” My fists grip the sheets as I try to hold back a laugh.
She squeezes her eyes closed. “Did I say that out loud?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I meant a holster…kind of like boxers. Or briefs. You know, whatever you prefer. They hide things, like a holster. Or whatever. Don’t mind me.”
She turns on her heels and tries to escape. I lunge after her, keeping the pink sheets around my waist to hide my weapon, a.k.a. junk, but my body protests at the sudden movement. My “hey” comes out more like a groan.
I grab her hand, and she shakes her head, refusing to look back at me.
“Len, it was funny. I enjoyed the joke.”
Maybe a little too much. Underneath the polka dots, my cock stirs to life. I ignore it, waiting for her to finally face me again. Eventually, she does, and I drop her arm so I can pull the sheets up.
This time, her eyes don’t stray from my face, and an astonishing amount of disappointment threads through me. “Thank you for taking care of me last night.”
If I’d been with my previous roommate, I would’ve been woken up at one a.m. to him finally coming home from being out, and I’d be lucky if he didn’t have someone with him.
“I guess you should’ve added to the contract that we wouldn’t flash each other.”
This brings a smile to her face, her blue eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I didn’t foresee that happening. I was preoccupied with your smelly hockey gear.” She swipes a strand of hair away from her lips, and I notice she’s done her hair.
I reach out, touching one of the curls. “Did you do something different?”
“I finally used my curling iron, if that’s what you mean.”
“It looks nice.” I can’t believe I thought she was asexual. She’s funny. Quirky. And…cute. Girl-next-door beautiful, actually. Hidden underneath those oversized clothes was a gorgeous body, and yeah, I’m probably a vain asshole for admitting it, but it took her showing me to see it.
My stomach tightens, desire threading through me. The feeling nearly takes my breath away. Since she-who-will-not-be-named, I haven’t been attracted to another girl, as if her infidelity had stolen my ability to look at someone in that way. It was easy to keep the no-girls promise because none of them even tempted me.
“Len…”
She shakes her head again, like my talking broke a spell between us. After a deep breath, she says, “Clark texted and asked to meet.”
“Oh.” My shoulders sag. That name was nowhere on my radar. Stupid , I chastise myself. She has a crush on someone else . “Well, you should probably meet him, then.”
“Any advice?” Her bright eyes peer into mine.
I gesture toward her. “You look great.” It dawns on me that the shirt she’s wearing is perfect for him. Mr. Perfect Clark Kent Editor. Why are there two different commas anyway? “And, you know, act like you’re someone who deserves to be looked at.”
“Yeah?”
She looks so hopeful that I push down any other thoughts. I can keep this strictly a roommate thing. Plus, maybe I only felt things because of the pain reliever and the fact that she saw my penis. She also took care of me all night. I’m just grateful for her and getting the pleasure signals mixed up.
I take a deep breath. “My other advice is to be honest and tell him how you feel. Ask him out on a date.”
She grimaces.
The look of worry on her face makes me grin. “I guess you aren’t ready for that yet.”
She shrugs. “I have to get him to see me first.”
“Flirt a little, then. If you can.”
She pulls her shoulders back. “I can flirt.”
“Of course you can,” I agree. “Get out there and flirt. Show him how puckable you are.”
“I’m going to flirt,” she says, determined. Spinning on her heel, she marches toward the front door like she’s on a mission.
Before she leaves, I call out, “Have fun. I’ll need a full report later so we can plan your next steps.”
She waves without looking, the door closing behind her.
A moment later, she returns. Giving me a sheepish smile, she runs in, then grabs her laptop bag before exiting again.
See? Adorable.
When the front door closes for good, I shut my own bedroom door and lean my forehead against it. How did I get myself into this?
I doubt even the author of that treasure-hunting story could come up with this storyline. Dating coach? Rooming with an ex-girlfriend’s best friend?
Who does that?