She shrugged, stepping inside the kitchen. “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run.”
Chloe reached over to the coffee maker, pulling out a container of grounds and filling up the machine.
“I thought this was supposed to be a week off from training,” I said.
She turned, looking over her shoulder with a sly smile. “And that’s why I only did 5k.”
“Oh yes.” I couldn’t help the teasing smile growing across my lips. “A nice relaxing 5k to take the edge off.”
Her attention returned to the machine, the complex aroma of coffee filling the air. “It’s nice. Clears the head.”
I didn’t agree with my peers about the therapy of a run. I had always preferred the inside of a gym, weights and the small repetitive movements that built towards the skills I needed on court. In those, I could lose myself a little, find my focus. But hungover? That sounded close to torture.
“Want some coffee?” Chloe asked, the jug now full.
“Sure, thanks.”
She opened up the cupboard above the coffee maker, finding it empty, before moving on to another, trying to locate the mugs. Silently, I stepped close, going to the last cupboard.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, taking two out from beside me, her body so close to mine, I could feel the hot post-run heat radiating from her. I swallowed uncomfortably, stepping to the side. But instead, I found myself closer than ever as she followed in my direction, both of us colliding with each other, the empty mugs held carefully in her hands the only thing keeping us apart.
Her eyes caught on mine, my panic at our proximity reflected back to me in her gaze.
“Sorry,” she muttered, tearing her gaze away, stepping backwards.
“It’s fine,” I grumbled, also increasing the distance between us. I turned my focus to the fridge as she spun around, heading back to the coffee maker.
Grabbing the carton of milk, I turned back towards her, gulping as I caught sight of how she looked in those shorts, the curve of her strong, thick thighs impossible to ignore. So distracting that I ran right into the back of her.
As if the largest kitchen I’d ever seen had become the smallest in her company.
“Shit, sorry,” I apologized, sweat appearing on my brow. “I was trying to pass the milk.”
She smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
She leaned one hip against the counter, pouring the milk into her coffee. Not a single hint of tiredness clung to her, despite the late night. Meanwhile, I felt like a train wreck, struggling to keep my movements fluid as my body ached.
“You’re looking fresh for someone who almost drowned last night,” I muttered.
Chloe chuckled, now picking out a pastry for herself. “You were the one who almost drowned. I was perfectly fine.”
I didn’t bother to argue with that, instead turning back to the island, pulling up a chair to sit opposite her. The distance across the marble felt safe, but as I got comfortable, I realized the danger of having to look straight at her.
She pushed my plate over to me, her fingers brushing mine this time, the lightest touch, but enough that it sent a little shiver down my spine.
“So Scottie and Dylan looked dangerous yesterday,” I said, recalling their landslide wins against their opposing teams.
“Yeah,” she said, her gaze sliding over to mine. “But it wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy.”
“Sure,” I said, taking another sip of coffee to steady myself. “So, are you going to stop fighting me for the ball this time?”
“I’m going to try.” She raised her mug to take a sip, catching instead on the incredulous look I was giving her. “Hey—it’s an improvement!”
I hummed. “I guess I can’t complain about that.” I took a moment, before adding, “I want this final, Chloe. I don’t want to give up on a trophy.”
“Youhaveseen the trophy, right?” Chloe said. “It’s tiny. It’s the kind you give out to kids on sports days.”
“A trophy is a trophy,” I said. “And it deserves to be in my collection.”
