He’s silent for a moment before he connects his eyes with mine. “Or . . . you don’t have to.”
“You want to share a bed with me?” I chuckle. “I doubt that.”
He shrugs. “You didn’t bother me and if it gave you comfort, then it’s fine. And it’s not like you’re here for long, so there’s no need to get another bed. I’m good with it if you are.”
“I mean . . . sure. I just don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not.”
“Okay.” My cheeks blush for some reason. Maybe because your extremely attractive roommate just told you that you can continue to sleep next to him at night. “It feels awkward now.”
He chuckles and slowly slides off the counter. “Then let me be the one to walk away . . . or crutch away. There’s a bagel place on the way into the arena. Want to stop there for breakfast before we head in?”
“That would be perfect. Give me like twenty minutes and I’ll be ready.” I take one more sip of my coffee and then head down the hallway to my room, a smile on my face the whole time.
Chapter Eleven
HALSEY
“Fuck, man. I can’t believe you’re out for at least two weeks,” Silas says as he sits next to me in the locker room.
I just got done with some painful treatment, thanks to Grace, and I figured I’d visit with the guys before letting Blakely know that I’m ready to go back home. I want to give her some time in her office before I pull her out.
“I know, but Grace thinks if I stick to my treatment plan and don’t miss one thing, I’ll be ready to come back.”
“I don’t want you to reinjure it.”
“I won’t,” I say. “You know Grace, she tapes us up with what feels like steel rods.”
“True,” he says as he leans back on the bench. “Hell, tonight is going to be rough without you though. Are you staying to watch?”
“No, going to watch from my apartment. I actually asked Blakely to watch with me.”
He slowly turns his head and faces me. Whispering, he asks, “Did you tell Posey this?”
“No, why?”
“He’s going to be so fucking obnoxious that I don’t think I can bear him knowing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“He’s seemed really chill in the Frozen Fellas group, but he’s been bragging up a storm in a separate text about how he’s the best matchmaker to ever walk the goddamn planet. Of course, Pacey let him have it last night and said he shouldn’t be celebrating while our center is laid up with a bad ankle. We haven’t heard from him since but if he knows you have a date planned—”
“It’s not a date.”
“Oh, he’ll call it that. Like Jesus, he’s been insufferable. It’s almost as if he’s trying to avoid something in his life so he’s incessantly involving himself in ours.”
“That’s probably the case,” I say just as OC walks into the locker room.
“Oh shit, man, how are you doing?” he asks, coming up to me and taking a seat.
“Good. Slightly in pain, but just got done with treatment.”
“I can’t believe you rolled your ankle fighting over an air mattress.”
“Yeah.” I pull on my hair. “I need to come up with a better story, because it doesn’t sound great.”
“To me it does,” Silas says with a smirk.
