Even with my numb arm and the stolen blankets and the high probability of frostbite, since her apartment is freezing.
It’s early morning when my stomach grumbles and refuses to be ignored, so I quietly slip out of bed and wander to the kitchen. It took me so long to get through the media circus last night that by the time I showered, changed, and finally left the arena, my main concern was getting to Kennedy, not eating a balanced meal.
A single receipt sits on the counter, verifying her declaration that she bought condoms in a variety of sizes. But she also purchased gluten-free bagels. I comb my fingers through my hair, throat going dry. She did that forme. My chest tightens as I find them, and I can’t help but smile as I toast one, then smother it in cream cheese. I set it on a small plate, then make my way back to bed. Probably not the most considerate thing to eat in another person’s bed, but I don’t like the idea of Kennedy waking up and thinking I bailed on her.
What Iknewafter the Copper Lantern was confirmed yesterday: one night with Kennedy isn’t nearly enough. She’s addicting—her smiles, her laughter, her moans, her cover stealing, her freckles.
I’m scrolling on my phone, reading articles that analyze my shitty goalkeeping from last night’s game, when she finally stirs. She blinks slowly and stares at me for a solid ten seconds before asking, “Be so fucking for real, Cameron. Are you eating breakfast in my bed?”
“Yes?” I say through a mouthful of bagel. Thankfully, the plate in my lap catches any crumbs that drop from my mouth.
“That’s—you know what?” She sighs, burying her face in her pillow. “I’m too tired to care.”
“You’retired?” I let out a sardonic laugh. “I’m the one who got left out in the elements all night with nothing more than a corner of that ridiculously pink comforter to warm me.”
She smirks and rubs her legs together like a cricket. “I’ve heard more than once that I steal the covers.”
“Would’ve been nice to know.”
“Would you have left?”
I take a bite of my bagel, waiting until I’ve chewed and swallowed to answer. “No, but I would’ve grabbed one of your million throw blankets if I had prior warning.”
“Hmm.” She twists onto her side, tucking her hands under her cheek. “I’m surprised you’re still here, to be honest. I figured you’d sneak out at the crack of dawn and leave a cryptic note behind.”
“That was the plan.” I wink so she knows it was absolutely never the plan. “But then I saw you bought gluten-free bagels and changed my mind.”
Her lips curl up lazily. “Figured you need to carb-load after expending all that energy.”
“Sweetheart, I could’ve gone about five more rounds last night if you hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly.”
Laughing, she snuggles deeper into her pillow. “I meant after the game, but good to know where your priorities lie. How do you feel?”
I kick up a brow. “About what?”
“Take your pick,” she says, voice still raspy from sleep. “Your conniving weasel ex, yesterday’s game… me rocking your world.”
The chuckle comes unbidden as I consider my answer. There’s a lot to unpack regarding last night, although I can’t say I’m at all disappointed by the outcome.
“Pissed and confused about Gigi,” I admit, zeroing in on the plate in my lap. “If she’s trying to get on my good side, I don’t know why she thought giving you the jersey that belonged to the guy she cheated with was a good idea.”
“I don’t think there was much thinking on her part. She saw an opportunity and took it.” Kennedy shifts to face me morefully, her blue eyes swimming with concern. “Did you beat the guy up after you found out? Because if seeing me in his jersey was a trigger, I can’t imagine how seeing him in person would affect you. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want but?—”
“But you’ll politely back off and never ask again?” I guess with a smirk because that’s not her MO.
“I was going to say that I can be very persuasive and I’m extremely nosy, so you might as well just tell me and save us both time.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “I didn’t know about it until after Linden got traded to New York, which is probably for the best.” The bitterness surfaces like it always has, though it’s faded. More like a memory than a feeling.
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” I stare at the ceiling as parts of that conversation float through my mind. “The worst part wasn’t even the cheating, really. Yeah, that sucked, obviously, but it was how she told me. She acted like she was doing me a favor by being honest, as if telling me that it was over between them would make me want to rebuild whatever the fuck we had.”
“What’d you do?”
“Broke up with her on the spot.” I massage my jaw, wincing at the memory of her screaming and the way she flipped from apologetic to vicious in a heartbeat. “She didn’t take it well.”
Kennedy cuddles deeper under the covers. “She cheated and made herself the victim?”
