Orlando nods. “Sure. With a big splash of milk, please.”
After I hand him the mug, I turn back to the stove and stir the greens. “I can lend you some sweats and a t-shirt to get home. Don’t want to send you out this morning in a tux.”
He chuckles. “You don’t want an obvious walk of shame leaving your house?”
I turn and level my gaze on him. “I’m not ashamed,” I say.
It feels important that I’m clear about that, especially in light of everything he yelled at me in the elevator weeks ago. We have to keep this secret, but no part of me feels shame when I think of Orlando. The more time we spend together, I feel something closer to pride.
Makes sense to feel pride, I tell myself. He’s an incredible athlete, and I’m his agent.
“I didn’t mean…” He trails off and shakes his head. “I’ll be happy to borrow some sweats. Thanks.”
I grunt and turn back to the stove. “Good.”
I busy myself with finishing breakfast, but a second later, a hand lands on my back, surprising me. Orlando is close behind me, and he lets our bodies brush together as he reaches for the coffee and refills his cup.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The touch is intimate and familiar, and it reaches something deep inside of me, yearning.
I want to strip him naked again and have him right here on the counter. But I want other things, too. Touch like this.
“Orlando…” I manage as I turn, and he steps away and leans back on the counter again, skin glowing and heat in his eyes.
“Thanks for letting me sleep over,” he says and raises up a half-smile. “You’re a gentleman.”
I huff, not sure if he’s making fun of me. My head is foggy from the lack of sleep, but he still looks crystal clear.
“We probably shouldn’t do that again. It’s outside of our arrangement.”
Orlando nods. He looks disappointed for a second but quickly chases it away with a smile. “Yeah, right. Hotels are more our style.”
I force a fake chuckle, but it hurts to put those boundaries back up.
Orlando sips his coffee. “Hey, I’m here now. We can still enjoy breakfast together, right?”
“Sure.”
I turn and plate the food, and Orlando and I walk to the dining table. He doesn’t waste any time before digging in, and I watch with satisfaction as he devours the food with an appetite as big as mine.
I squirt hot sauce on the eggs and help myself, too.
We sit there and eat breakfast in our underwear, a comfortable silence settling over the table.
Nice.
Nice enough that I shake away a little of the internal conflict, easing into the comfort.
“So,” Orlando finally says and takes a big drink of coffee. “What was your childhood like?”
I set my fork down. “Excuse me?”
So much for easy comfort.
“You mentioned last night that after-school programs were important to you. It made me wonder what the rest of your life was like when you were just a little jock. A jockling.”
I scoff at the phrase.
Orlando grins at me. “Just cute to imagine a little baby Troy. Barking obscenities and stomping around in a diaper.”
