by Ella Maise
“I think you get the picture.”
“Maybe I do get the picture.” His lips tipped up. “Thanks, Zoe. Looks like we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”
As his eyes bored into mine, we sat there like two idiots, smiling at each other.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a chin lift. I stopped smiling and touched my lips with my fingertips. Was something wrong with my smile?
“Why are you smiling like that?” I shot back.
An eyebrow went up, and the lone eyebrow lift combined with that damn smile…it was enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“This is how I smile,” Dylan answered.
“Well…it’s…too big.”
Zoe. Oh, Zoe. You poor poor child.
His dark blue eyes were sparkling with laughter and those lips tipped even higher. One second stretched into two, and then two seconds turned into a staring contest. What the hell was he thinking? I didn’t know him well enough to make a good guess, and it got harder to keep my eyes locked on his with each passing second. I was such a sore loser, so there was no way I’d be the first one to look away.
After what felt like an hour of the weirdest staring contest—which I won, thank you very much—he shook his head and rubbed his hand over his short hair.
“What?” I asked quietly, genuinely curious to hear what he was thinking.
He sighed and got up. “Nothing.”
“No, tell me. What?”
Dylan hesitated.
“You remember those people we talked about?” I prompted. “The ones we don’t like?” A quick nod. “I don’t like people who don’t finish their sentences either.”
“I didn’t start a sentence.”
I tapped a finger to my temple. “You started it in here.”
That earned me a warm chuckle. “You keep doing things I’m not expecting you to do. It throws me off, that’s all.”
“Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“Let’s not waste your time—let’s agree that it’s a good thing.”
I caught the twitch of his lips as he leaned down to hook his bag over his shoulder. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah. I’ll keep you on your toes.” I pushed myself up from the couch to stand next to him. “So we’re good? Buddies? You don’t mind that I told her you’re gay?”
“Buddies?”
If he wanted to focus on that… “Sure, buddies—best friends, pals, mates…I’ll let you choose.” I lightly punched his arm, and then immediately hated myself for it.
I, Zoe Clarke, was officially the weirdest girl alive.
Why didn’t the ground open up and swallow me when I needed it the most? Couldn’t be that hard.
Looking down at where I’d punched his arm then back at me, he gave me another one of his infectious smiles that stopped me in my tracks every single time. “Buddies it is then.”
Chapter Seven
Dylan
It was only a few days into my move when I started to get back into my routine—or more like a new routine. We had a home game in two days and I was more than ready to play. I was doing my third set of push-ups when I looked up and saw Zoe rubbing her eyes as she walked straight into a wall, missing the bathroom door by ten inches or so.
“Fuck!” she hissed out in a low voice, this time rubbing her shoulder.
I dropped my head and tried to keep in my laughter. When I looked back up, I saw her looking over her shoulder toward my room right before she hurried into the bathroom and gently closed the door.
Two hundred twenty-three.
Two hundred twenty-four.
Two hundred twenty-five.
I heard the door click open then careful footsteps followed. When there was a loud gasp, I lifted my head, my gaze slowly making its way up her long smooth legs. Her hand was clutched over her chest and she was doing that deer in the headlights thing again. I smiled.
“Good morning, Zoe.”
Letting go of her chest, she pulled at the hem of her t-shirt and took a few side steps toward the kitchen. Her eyes though—they stayed put on my body.
“Hello to you too. You scared the shit out of me.”
I ducked my head and chuckled quietly. “I can see that.”
“Uh, what’s going on here?” she asked in a rough voice still laced with sleep.
“Getting in my push-ups.”
A few more steps to the right and she reached the island. Keeping her gaze on me, she held on to the edge of the counter as if it was helping her stay upright, skipped the two bar stools, and walked around until she stood over the sink.
“Isn’t it a little early to do push-ups?”
Two hundred thirty-six.
“I always wake up at six AM and get them done.”
“So, this is an everyday occurrence?”
“Yeah.” I dropped my head down and ignored the slight tremor in my arm muscles.
“Weekends too?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, okay. That’s…good to know.” Zoe reached for the glass sitting next to the sink—eyes still on me—opened the fridge, took out a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and poured it into the glass. After a second of hesitation, she grabbed it and took a few gulps.
I looked back down to hide my smile and kept counting.
Two hundred forty-five.
Two hundred forty-six.
Two hundred forty-seven.
“Uh, and good morning…buddy.”
“Sorry?” I grunted and looked up.
“You said good morning and I didn’t say it back. I’m not really awake yet…might also be dreaming, can’t be sure completely about that. Just in case I’m not in a dream and you’re really there doing push-ups…good morning to you, too, buddy.”
“You’re really getting into this buddy thing, huh?”
She lifted a small shoulder, causing her very oversized t-shirt to slip and give me a view of the smooth skin so innocently hiding underneath the fabric.
“I’m liking the idea more and more.”
Keep counting, Dylan. Keep going.
Two hundred sixty-one.
Two hundred sixty-two.
Two hundred sixty-three.
When I reached three hundred, I grunted and jumped up. Grabbing the towel I’d left on the couch, I wiped my face. “What are you doing up this early anyway? I haven’t seen you around in the mornings these last few days. I only see you in the evenings.” Not that she was around all that much. Whenever I came in, she found somewhere to disappear to.
She was still standing behind the sink, holding the glass in both hands as she took small sips and kept her eyes on me.
“Because I’m a normal person? You know, one who doesn’t get up at an ungodly hour? Today I’m meeting with a girl who’s paying me to take a few shots of her for her fashion blog. She wanted the streets to be empty, and according to her, her skin looks best with the early sunrise. No sane person would get up this early in the morning, but…work.”
“Yeah? A fashion shoot, huh? Sounds fun.”
“As I can see with my own eyes, you’re not a sane person either, so…your idea of fun might be a little skewed.”
Tossing the towel back over the couch, I dropped my ass on the floor and started on my sit-ups.
“Okay, what’s happening now?”
“Sit-ups.”
I heard a little groan, but instead of glancing at her, I kept my eyes forward and kept going. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her moving around, and even if I hadn’t been able to, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing and flatware rattling reached me just fine.
Forty-one.
Forty-two.
Forty-three.
Forty-four.
When there was a long stretch of silence, I spoke up without breaking my focus.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“What’s up?” she returned back.
I could feel her eyes sweeping over my
skin like the gentle touch of a feather. My dick stirred in my sweatpants. “You’re staring.”
“How do you know I’m staring? You’re not even looking at me.”
“I can feel your eyes on me,” I grunted.
“You can feel my eyes—of course you can. Well, I’m not staring because there is something to stare at, I’m only looking toward you because…you’re in the way of my view at the moment and I don’t know where else to look.”
Curious, I turned to see what she was doing. I tried to maintain my pace and keep counting in my head at the same time, but she was making it hard. She was standing in the exact same spot, only difference was this time she had a blue bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. The dish was full of what I could only assume was the cereal that was heading toward her pink lips. I tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze seemed glued somewhere else—namely, my torso. So I was the breakfast entertainment. For some reason I couldn’t quite articulate, I didn’t mind her gaze on me, and trust me, if it had been anyone but her, I would’ve minded. Being gawked at usually broke my concentration, thus pissing me off, but I’d never had a set of eyes moving over my body feel like fucking feathers, of all things. My body heated, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of my workout.
“You’re having breakfast and still staring,” I grumbled, sweat starting to pour off my forehead already as each rep got a bit harder and my dick did the same.
Her spoon paused midair, and then she was chewing again. “I think so. Yes.” There was a loud clink when her spoon hit her bowl and she winced, but two seconds later the chewing started back up. “They always say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and I think I’m becoming a believer.”
One hundred.
Finishing my first set, I lay flat on the ground and shook my arms to relax my muscles as I slowly caught my breath.
“So do you always do this…half naked?”
I smiled up at the ceiling. “If it’s bothering you, I can do it in my room from now on. I only came out here because I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”
“Nope, it’s fine. Just wanted to check.”
There was a two-second pause before she spoke up again.
“Always at the same time?”
“Are you gonna come out every morning and keep me company?”
Taking a deep breath, I started on the second set.
A hundred and one.
A hundred and two.
A hundred and three.
“Nope.”
“You sure? You thought about it for a second there.”
“Yup. Nope.”
A hundred and ten.
A hundred and eleven.
Feeling that addictive good burn in my stomach, I pushed through my second set in no time.
I heard loud coughing so I glanced her way. “More?” Zoe asked in a squeaky tone when I went for the next hundred sit-ups.
“Yeah,” I puffed out. I miraculously managed to finish my last set with only a few glances thrown my curious observer’s way. At least my dick was behaving. A few times when I looked, she quickly averted her eyes and became increasingly engrossed in her cereal bowl or the sink. Standing up, I wiped off my forehead, chest, and stomach. Throwing the small towel over my shoulder, I moved toward my intriguing roommate. Her eyes followed my every step.
Stopping when only two steps separated us, I leaned against the marble counter. “Hi. How is your morning going so far?”
She made a few vague noises then cleared her throat after swallowing a mouthful of cereal. “Just like any other morning, really. Nothing special is happening. Yours?”
It was hard holding back my grin, so I chose not to. “I’m really enjoying it so far. Thanks for keeping me company.” It looked like she was still having trouble holding my gaze when we were standing close to each other. Oh, she tried, I’ll give her that, but it only lasted a couple seconds before she shifted her focus to my ear. I’d noticed the chosen spot could also be my mouth if I was smiling or talking.
“You want cereal?” She stirred her spoon in what must have been very soggy cereal by that point then sipped a little milk from the edge of it.
“Nope.”
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Cereal?”
I laughed. “I’ll grab something with the boys.”
“Water, then?”
“I wouldn’t say no to that.”
She shuffled back and reached up to grab a new glass from one of the cupboards to my left, and I had to grip the edge of the counter in a white-knuckle hold when my attention dropped low.
Eyes up, Dylan. Don’t look at her ass, man.
I only saw a flash of light blue against her pale skin before she dropped back down on her heels and filled my glass with water before handing it to me.
“Thank you, Zoe.”
There was that pink flush to her cheeks again.
I looked down and focused on her bare feet. She had painted her toenails a light purple, and it looked adorable on her. Then, she curled her toes and hid her right foot behind her left. Something about it made me smile.
I’d met shy girls before, but none of them had the effect Zoe was having on me. I’d met girls that almost made me feel shy, too—not too often, maybe once in a blue moon, but it had happened. Some jersey chasers could be a little more forward than you’d expect them to be, and you already expected them to be forward, hence their name. I’d learned that my freshman year while I was still trying to find my way around a new school and a new team.
Not including my freshman year, I didn’t sleep around. After that first year, I realized it wasn’t my thing. Compared to some of my teammates, I was an angel, but I did date from time to time. Finding that elusive connection was even harder than you’d expect it to be.
This weird thing I had going on with Zoe was new to me. I’d had girls I’d been strictly friends with, and I’d had girlfriends I’d had nothing but a healthy sexual attraction in common with. Yet, there I was, standing in a kitchen, staring at a girl’s feet and finding it extremely adorable that she was shy enough to try to hide them from my view. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on between us or if there was anything going on at all, but I had a feeling it was going to take some time to find our footing.
Zoe was shy, that was a fact, but then all of a sudden she’d change the play on me. She’d say something unexpected—like owning up to the fact that she was staring at me—and it would throw me off big time, and this was coming from a guy whose job was to anticipate what the play was and adjust accordingly so he could run for the win. I was damn good at reading a player’s next move, but with the way Zoe was playing, I had a hard time guessing where the ball would come rushing toward me from.
It looked like she had a whole different side of her hiding underneath that first layer. Maybe that was what was drawing me to her—the possibilities of Zoe. I wasn’t a dumbass; I knew I was attracted to her—my dick had been happy to see her more than a few times that week—but it wasn’t just the fact that she was beautiful that had moving me in that direction. I was being serious when I told her I had a feeling she was gonna be my best friend.
“Where do you wanna live after you graduate? Stay here?” I asked out of the blue, surprising the hell out of myself in the process.
She held my gaze for another two seconds—which seemed to be her max unless she was getting into a staring contest with me—then looked back into her bowl and kept squishing the cereal into the milk. Anywhere but my eyes worked, I supposed.
Why did she have so much trouble meeting my eyes when were standing close to each other when she’d had no trouble checking out my abs and occasionally my arms and shoulders just minutes before?
“New York. You?”
“I’ll know after the draft is over.”
“Makes sense.” She nodded and flashed me a small, shy smile. “I admire your confidence—you’re sure you’ll be picked. Any idea where you’ll end up?”
I shrugged. “If I don’t believe in myself, why would anybody else? I might not end up being a first-round pick, but that’s fine. I’ll just work harder to show everyone what a mistake they made by skipping me.” Her smile grew bigger, and I frowned at her lips. “Just so you know, that’s not me being a big-headed prick, I just know what I’m capable of out on that field. That being said, I could blow my knee in the next game—or hell, even at practice—and never be able to play again. Going pro is the plan and the dream, but it’s too early to tell where, or anything really.”
She raised her spoon-holding hand in surrender. “A healthy dose of self-confidence is always good. I could use some of it myself.” She paused for a moment. “And I know you’re not a big-headed prick, Dylan. Yeah, you say you’re good on the field, but you’re not being obnoxious about it. You just said you’ll work harder to show them what a mistake they made by skipping you—you didn’t give me a dirty grin and say they’d be lucky to have you play on their team. That would’ve been obnoxious.” She narrowed her eyes in uncertainty. “Do you know what I mean?”
Instead of smiling back at her, or taking a step forward that would bring me closer to her, or saying thank you in a gruff voice, I asked a simple question. This time it was no surprise; I was completely aware of what I was about to ask her. “Do you wanna make a bet with me, Zoe?”
Her smile shrunk a little, and she finally put the spoon down in the bowl to try to understand where I was going with my question. After a few seconds of contemplating, she shifted her weight and leaned her hip against the counter. “Where did that come from? And what kind of bet are we talking about here?”
The sun sent the first shy rays of light through the windows and onto Zoe’s face as I put my water down and faced her. I watched her squirm when my new stance brought me just a bit closer to her. I could see how much she wanted to back up in the way she shifted from foot to foot. If I took one big step, we’d breathe the same air. The glint, the sparkle I could see in her eyes told me she wouldn’t be scared away that easily.
“Let’s bet on a kiss,” I said, deciding to end her misery. “I think we’re gonna end up kissing one of these days, and I bet you’ll be the first one to beg for it.”