He moves to exit through the door, and when he does, I spot Drew out of the corner of my eye. He throws an arm in the air pointed in the opposite direction, a faint whisper of anger trailing through his low voice now bouncing off the walls. When he starts heading my way, he adjusts his jacket, huffing through his nose. I try to pretend I don't notice.
"Oh, wait," I say, grabbing at Petrov's arm. It's obviously massive under my very average grasp, butdamn—his bicep could eat my hand for a snack. He steps backward into my space. "Show me your big win smile," I say cheerfully. As expected, his expression doesn't change, but he looks into the camera as if he's giving it all he's got.
"Uh, thanks." I smile, and he busts through the door just as Drew finally reaches me.
"Mystery Girl," he says, his voice more depleted than I expected after such a win.
"Twelve," I answer with a grin. I'm not exactly sure how to approach this, and it hits me harder now that waiting for him after his game might have been a little presumptuous.
"So, Anderson," I say, pivoting my thoughts. "Show me your big win—"
"Let's get out of here, Brooke," he whispers.
A warmth grows on my face, but it's nothing compared to the one that starts between my legs.God, he really does have an effect on me.
I tip my chin down nonchalantly, waiting for him to direct me on how I should do this.
"You drove here?" he asks, his voice still low. I nod just once, as if somehow the walls suddenly have ears. "Alright, there's probably going to be cameras outside. Can you meet me at my place?"
Suddenly it all feels real—the last six hours and everything that came with them, rushing past my mind. Surprisingly though, it's not anything but excitement that hits me. Almost as if past-Brooke is taking the driver's seat once again.
"Sure," I say confidently.
He smiles that genuine smile that I'm telling myself is reserved just for me, his adorable dimples finally joining the conversation. Drew slings his backpack around to the front of him, unzips it, and reaches inside.
"Here, take this." He pulls out a ball of black fabric from his bag, wafting his usual, welcomed scent toward me. "Put this on before you walk up to the building. Hood up. I'll wait for you in the lobby and tell the doorman to let you in."
That realness hits me again, bringing with it a few nerves this time. Swallowing it down, I mask it in my usual way. Gesturing to my tight black long-sleeve v-neck, I say, "What? You don't likemyshirt on me?"
He steps closer so we're just inches apart, and my whole body senses the shift in mood. Drew makes no attempt to hide the way he can undoubtedly see down my top and into my cleavage from this proximity. "Oh, I fucking love that shirt on you. And I bet I'll like it even moreoffof you. But for at least the next few weeks, I need you to blend in." He blows a heavy breath through his lips. "And, baby, you do not blend in withthaton."
Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I let my teeth run over it. "Well, okay then," I say, taking it from him.
"I'll meet you there."
"Should I give you some sort of head start?" I ask, suddenly desperate to avoid waiting outside of his billion dollar building in a black hoodie with my head covered and no one inside to vouch for me.
"Nah," he says, taking one step forward. As he does it, he grazes my hand with his pinky discreetly and winks. "I rode the bike."
Once again, my anticipation suffocates the possible anxiety of reality as I picture Drew on his bike, the jacket he's wearing, stretched across his back as he hovers over the handlebars. I instantly find myself wishing these next few weeks had already passed so I could be behind him, my hands slipped underneath the fabric, the bike's motor vibrating between my legs.
"You good?" Drew asks right before I completely slip into my fantasy.
I answer, my voice floating out accidentally suggestive. "Oh, I'm good."
The corner of his lip curls upward as he wraps his hand around my wrist. "I'll see you soon," he all but growls.
I inhale deeply. "See you soon."
"So, who were you talking to outside of the locker room?"
Drew presses the up arrow on the wall to signal the elevator, and I mentally curse myself for picking nosiness as my form of small talk.
"Oh, uh, no one," he says as the elevator doors ding open to let us in.Saved by the bell?
We step inside as I brush off his dismissive answer.
"That's not true actually," he adds before I have enough time to feel awkward about it. "I probably shouldn't start this whole living my truth thing out with a lie." I inhale quickly as the doors close in front of us, and Drew swipes a card in front of a sensor. "That was my dad."
