Page 17 of The Playmaker


Font Size:

Graham

Sorry, babe

Noah

It’s a good thing you’re cute

And now I’m going to go hide out because you’re getting mushy

Noah

And here I thought you were growing in expressing your feelings

So much for trying to feel better. Lately, whenever I need something, I text the guys. Ever since Caleb came into my life, if I need anything—no matter how big or small—they’re there for me.

Except now.

Is it so wrong that I want to hide out in my room?

Not from any responsibility of life. No. I’m past that.

It’s because of my new roommate.

Stevie.

Three days.

She’s only been here three days, but already it’s been threelongdays. Everywhere she goes in the house, her scent lingers. Like peaches and flowers. I can’t pin it down, but every time she’s near me, I’m wanting more of it.

Craving it.

Like I could survive off that alone.

Grabbing a T-shirt from my drawer, I throw it on and grab Caleb from his swing.

“I guess we can’t hide out here all day.” He giggles at me. “Are you going to be nice to Stevie? She’s going to be here for a while, and we don’t want to scare her off.”

Caleb smiles up at me. I love seeing his smile. The one that looks like mine, right down to the slight quirk in the corner. Shutting my door behind me, I head downstairs but come to a dead stop.

Because the last thing I expect to see is staring me in the face.

Stevie. In a towel. In nothing but a towel.

Water sluices over her shoulders, and what I wouldn’t give to be that water droplet disappearing beneath the towel.

Holy shit.

“Oh. Sorry.” Stevie points to the door behind her. “I couldn’t get the shower to work in my bathroom, so I used this one. I hope it’s okay.”

“Fine. Good. Yeah.” Fuck. “It’s fine. No problem at all.” Caleb’s happy squealing cuts the awkwardness. “Right. Need to feed him.”

“Don’t let me interrupt.”

Stevie walks into her room and closes her door with a soft click.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I really don’t need to add images of Stevie in a towel to my mental torment. I barely know the woman who moved in down the hall, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.