"Oh, yeah, sure."
"Might be easier if I just stay over, my bike is already here." She shrugs.
"What about clothes?" Because that's obviously the only thing stopping her from staying here.
She looks down at my t-shirt and shrugs.
"I'll be alright." She stands and picks up her plate, I watch as she rounds the table, and I clench my abs to suppress a shiver when she trails a finger along my shoulder as she passes. "I think I'll stay."
I am frozen to the spot as Laney continues to clear the table.
She’s invited herself to stay and I can’t come up with a valid rebuttal. Why can’t I come up with one solid reason for her to go?
Because, you actually like having her here. Youwanther to stay.
"What do you typically do after dinner?" She asks as she loads my dishwasher.
"Um, after a swim? Shower and run through a foam roller routine."
"Well, why don't you go shower while I clean up, and then we can foam roll together, I'll admit I haven't done it since college. It's a special type of pain." She laughs.
I'm experiencing my own special kind of pain with Laney in my space. In my clothes. Smelling like me. Looking so comfortable in my kitchen. All I want to do is feed her, care for her, help her be the best she can be. I'm still sitting at the table, processing how I got myself into this situation when she comes and stands behind me.
Her magnetic pull has me rooted to the spot and the desire to experience her fully, just once, clouds my thoughts. My reflexes slow. My breathing shallows. I am at her disposal.
"I know you’re the coach but we’re going to follow my plan tonight." She says as her hands firmly massage my shoulders. She leans closer and my brain short circuits smelling myproducts on her skin blended with her essence. It unlocks a level of possession I was only toying with before.
Her hands burn a trail of sensation over me and there's no way we're spending the night together and keeping our hands to ourselves.
I won’t recover from having her, but not having her is killing me anyway.
Chapter fifteen
Laney
Roll, Kiss, Counter
Myteethstartedthejob but now I’m picking at the flake of lip skin I’ve peeled loose in all the worrying. Miguel leaving me in the kitchen while he showered gave me time to review the play.
I wasn't expecting to tell Miguel about my Dad.
Aside from devoting my life to becoming a professional endurance athlete because of his dying wish, I don’t let myself go back to those heartbreaking days.
Dee was there with me, she saw everything, but her "here and now" approach to life has helped me to stay present.
And infrequently talking to my mom helps too.
Every few months we check in with a phone call. I tell her about nights at Curryosity and Dee’s latest romantic drama TV show obsession. I don't mention race results or any training updates because I’ve got nothing to report without wins, the pro card, or sponsorships in hand. It isn’t worth it if I haven’t made it viable.
She tells me about the avocado farm she’s working on, or the plans for her next move.
We have come to an understanding. And that understanding is pretty much we can exist in the world and focus on our own lives. I process my grief with training and she processes hers with the adventure she felt she was denied while my dad was alive.
The flake of skin comes off with a sting and I walk to the trash can because it feels weird to just flick it into the air in Miguel’s condo.
An advantage of hanging out with an older man I didn’t anticipate?
He owns a condo. Like with a mortgage. He owns furniture he picked out from a store. He’s not sitting on a hand-me-down sofa from your roommate’s grandmother’s friend who died.
