I can’t resist a small kiss, so I press my lips against his before pulling away.
“Will you get the door?” he asks and helps me stand.
Nodding, we go in opposite directions, and I open the door to Carter and his partner. My jaw drops.
“No way,” I deadpan.
Miles Reed. Point guard for Philly’s basketball team stands there in all his athletic glory with a bottle of sparkling cider. I may not know or pay attention to sports like I used to, but I do know who Miles is.
“I didn’t know you were a sports fan, Angie,” Carter says from next to him.
“You two are hot together.” And it’s true that they are. Carter, with his warm russet skin and close-shaven hair, is wearing black jeans that mold to his thighs and a black shirt with a white button-down thrown over. Miles is his opposite with his creamy skin and short brown hair, circa Nathan Scott in season three ofOne Tree Hill, with dark brown khakis, a white T-shirt, and a denim button-down. Seriously, these two couldn’t get any hotter.
“Angie, is that them?” Brandon calls out from the kitchen, but I hear his footsteps getting closer. “Holy shit,” he blurts out as his hand comes to rest on my hip.
“You two are a match-made-in-heaven couple with your limited vocabulary,” Carter jokes and grabs Miles’s hand, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him.
“That’s Miles Reed,” Brandon whispers into my ear as we continue to stand at the front door.
“Highest paid, Point Guard, Miles Reed, in your house,” I flatly say. “How?”
“If you two are done gossiping about us, can we eat?” Carter shouts from the living room.
I flick the lock on Brandon’s door and follow him into the kitchen, where the food is waiting to be served. Thearomas hit me when he takes the lid off of what looks like a pot roast.
“A man with his own place and can cook a pot roast,” I sigh dreamily.
“Boyfriend material, huh?” he asks with a teasing smirk.
“Among other things,” I murmur, but don’t miss the lift of his cheeks as he pulls apart the food.
“Will you get the plates out of the cupboard behind you? And then the salad container out of the fridge?”
We prepare the plates in comfortable silence that verges on antsy as we’re both itching to share a meal with Miles. I don’t follow sports like the majority of the Philly residents here, but you can’t live here without knowing Miles Reed. He’s the same age that Liam would be today, and when March Madness was happening, that’s all that was playing on the television. Well, that, and alternating between watching Liam’s baseball games since we couldn’t travel all the time.
When news broke that he wanted to play in his home city to be closer to family—it changed the way athletes were drafted. It seems a lot of people my age are family-oriented, whether that be your parents or a partner.
Brandon and I carry the food into the dining room while Carter and Miles join us. I feel out of place as B goes to get a pitcher of water and glasses for us.
“So…wow,” Brandon says and takes his seat next to me. “Suddenly, Carter is more interesting by being attached to you.”
“Gee, thanks, buddy,” Carter says sarcastically.
“Anytime, pal,” he quips and we dig into the food.
“Brandon told me you two live in the same building?” I ask to steer the conversation to the juicy parts of their relationship after a while.
Miles nods and wipes his mouth off with a napkin. “Yep. Truthfully, I never socialized with anyone in our building for certain reasons.”
“But then I swiped right on a dating app, and lo and behold, we’re practically neighbors.” Carter beams.
“Somewhere there’s a romance book like ours,” Miles says and looks at Carter.
If it’s possible for a man to blush as hard as Carter, I’d pay big money to see that.
“Okay, let’s play a game,” I announce and shovel in more food to my mouth.
“You and your games,” Brandon teases.
