I smile at that. And then silence my phone and my mind to try and nap.
Not to sound needy or desperate, but I’ve texted Liam twice in the last hour and he hasn’t replied. The man has never taken more than minutes to reply to me unless he was working. I open the sliding glass door, deciding some fresh air and a second coffee will do me good as I wait for his text. It’s been a while since I’ve anxiously waited by my phone, excited to hear from someone. I suppose I could just go knock on his door, and maybe I will if I don’t hear anything soon.
There’s a lot of traffic today, I can hear the city below bustling, but I guess a Saturday during the fall makes sense. Horns honk as I take a beat, propping my feet up on the small table I put out here. It’s still warm, although being higher up does have its advantages with the wind. My phone rings—which is odd, since no one ever calls me unless it’s work related and even then, it’s rare. But Liam’s contact pops up and I do my best to rein in my smile.
“Hey,” I answer with a grin.
“Hey, neighbor.” His smooth voice floats through the phone. “I needed a nap and just woke up. Sorry I missed your texts.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Feeling rested?”
He hums and then I hear him yawn before he answers. “I’m all right, how’d the meeting go?”
“It was perfect.” I’m beaming with pride over how excited I am about this opportunity. “There are a lot of I’s that need to be dotted, T’s crossed, things like that, but overall everything went great, and I’m just excited and so hopeful for the future of women in sports.”
“You fucking did that,” he says, and it’s like I can picture his smile. All teeth, pure and authentic right through the phone.
I remember when I vaguely mentioned this to Brandon almost two years ago. He said “isn’t there already a scholarship like that?” It made me feel small and made my contributions feel insignificant. The more time I spend around Liam the more sadness I harbor for the woman I was in my marriage. The one who begged for bare minimum, accepted mediocre, and truly couldn’t tell if him saying “nice dress” was giving me a compliment or a sarcastic insult.
“I don’t know if this is kind of forward, but what the hell…do you feel like celebrating? Maybe just dinner or?—”
“Yes. Let’s go grab dinner,” he says, not missing a beat.
“I was thinking just at one of our apartments. I can cook or we can order takeout.”
“Oh…” His voice dies down. “Right, right. Yeah, of course. Come over, I can order from anywhere you want.”
I feel my shoulders fall slightly. Did he forget we shouldn’t take our situation outside of this building? I heard his voice lose its pep when I corrected him and immediately felt like shit. But we agreed that this—whatever it is—stays here.
“Okay,” I say quietly, hoping I didn’t hurt his feelings. “I can be over within the hour if that works?”
“Absolutely. I’m taking a quick ice plunge in a few, but I won’t be long. Come by whenever.” As if he’s rehearsed, he’s back to his upbeat tone. And I should be happy he doesn’t sound upset, but it’s just a reminder of how he’s had to learn how to bounce back quickly from feeling let down. And it stings.
“Sounds good.” I pull open the door to head back inside as we end the call.
I give myself a glance in the mirror and contemplate if I should change my clothes or just stay in the comfortable bike shorts and T-shirt I’m currently in. But don’t let myself dwell too long on a choice that doesn’t matter.
After I’ve picked up a few things around my apartment, I head out and over to Liam’s. He sent me a follow up text saying to just come in so I lightly knock, but then turn the knob to let myself in.
His apartment smells like apple pie. Apple pie and cinnamon rolls, and I feel my mouth watering. Is he baking? There’s no fucking way. I peek my head in the kitchen and hear the sound of music coming from his patio, so I take that as an invitation to step outside.
“Knock, knock,” I say as I slide the door open.
Liam’s seated in the ice bath against the wall, head resting on the edge of the acrylic material. This thing is bigger than I was picturing, it’s definitely not just your standard bathtub. Which makes sense since he’s six foot two and probably doesn’t comfortably fit in a regular tub.
“Hi.” He opens his eyes and tips his head up.
I stare at his bare chest and my eyes trail his torso. Fuck. He looks too good.
“I have shorts on.” He smirks as my eyes begin to wander but I narrow them at him after that remark.
“Good.” I lift my chin, stepping closer to him.
His hair is wet, but not soaking. It’s doing that messy thing in the front, and it makes me want to tangle my fingers in it to add to the chaos. Everything about Liam’s shirtless chest dripping wet does exactly what one would think it does.
“You can join me.” He extends his hand, and I back away.
“No, thank you,” I say with a giggle.
