After breakfast, reality crept in. He had practice, and I needed to work out before my early afternoon shift.
The world outside his apartment still existed, with all its complications and questions and demands.
I gathered my clothes from various locations—jeans from the bedroom floor, socks from under the coffee table, and shoes by the front door where I’d kicked them off a lifetime ago. When I came back to the living room, dressed and presentable, Skyler was leaning against the kitchen island, watching me with that soft smile again, the one that made me feel like the only person in the world.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
“I’m off tomorrow night.”
“Come to the game on Thursday. I’ll leave tickets at will-call.”
“What?” My hand stilled on my belt buckle. “Youwant me at a game?”
“I want you at every game, but let’s start with Thursday. That should give me time to talk to the guys and get past whatever we need to get past.”
“Sky, sometimes it takes a little longer—”
“Not with these guys. You’re right. I was overthinking. It’ll be fine.”
“What about the rest of the team? What about the owner or coaches or PR people? If I’m there, sitting in a player’s seats—”
“They’ll think I have friends outside the team, which, for the record, I don’t but should. You can be one of them. Bring others, maybe a girl, too. They give cover, right?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Beards do that.”
“Beards?” His eyes lit up, and every part of him shook. “Fuck me runnin’. Is there a funny gay word for everything?”
“Pretty much.”
“I have so much to learn. Teach me, Sensei.”
“You’re impossible.” I shook my head. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there Thursday.”
He crossed the room in three strides, cupped my face in both hands, and kissed me. But this wasn’t the desperate, exploratory kisses from last night nor the tentative, questioning kiss from the first time. No, this was something new, something that felt likea statement.
I felt like he was saying, “This is real. This is mine. I’m not letting go.”
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“Thank you,” he said. “For staying.”
“Thank you for asking.”
“I’ll always ask.”
“Then I’ll always stay.”
He kissed me again, quick and light, then walked me to the door. I stepped into the hallway and turned back. He was leaning against the doorframe, beefy arms crossed, that golden retriever smile firmly in place.
“Hey, Sky?”
“Yeah?”
“Crush it at practice.”
His smile widened. “I’ll dedicate every goal to you.”
“Please don’t.”
