She takes one more sip of coffee before setting the mug down and giving me her full attention. “I need them extra today. I slept like shit last night.”
“You too?” I ask. “We should have had a three a.m. kitchen meetup.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Why couldn’t you sleep? You can always sleep.”
I shrug, because I think sayingI couldn’t stop thinking about your ass grinding over my dickis the wrong move. “Just thinking about what I’m going to do this offseason. I usually have it planned out by now, but I dropped the ball this year.”
It’s not the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either. Every offseason, I try and do something different and entirely unrelated to football. One year I volunteered as a counselor at a local day camp for elementary-aged kids. Another year I took a class inDante’s Divine Comedyat the University of Pittsburgh with this really excentric professor in the Italian Studies department who draped the entire room in black cloths when we readPurgatory. Last year I drove to Boulder with my parents and my sisters, recreating the road trip my parents took years ago when they first got together, and then I stayed there when everyone else flew home and spent some time with my grandparents and cousins. But with the craziness of winning the playoffs and then the Super Bowl, I didn’t get around to planning this year’s adventure.
I give Sophie a hopeful smile. “Maybe I should come to work with you. You can set me up in a corner with a computer and I can wow everyone with my brilliance.”
She rolls her eyes. “The last time you came to work with me, everyone on my staff was too busy fawning over the hotshot quarterback to get any work done. Find something else to do that doesn’t involve my foundation.”
“Sophieeeee,” I whine, mostly because I know it will irritate her. “Your foundation is massive. You don’t even have one single little event I can plan? Some grants I can read? Wait! Can I work for one of your STEM camps? I’m awesome with kids.” I lean into my elbows and prop my chin on my fists. “Think of it, Sal. I can come to work with you every single day. We can hang all day long and I’ll never have to miss you because you’ll be right there. I miss you during the season when I’m traveling, and if I can work with you for the offseason I can spend five months never missing you at all.”
Something flashes in Sophie’s eyes at my words. It’s a look I’ve never seen before and it has my stomach swooping, my heart thudding mysteriously in a way I don’t quite understand, just like it did when she walked into the kitchen earlier. Her skin flushes a little, and for a split second all I can think is,Jesus, she’s beautiful.So fucking beautiful. Our eyes are locked together, and before my brain can engage, I’m leaning across the counter to get closer to her as she does the same, the air between us turning heavy with thoughts and feelings unknown.
I open my mouth to say…I’m not sure what exactly because I have no idea what’s happening, but before I can get any words out at all, Sophie’s phone rings, shattering the moment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SOPHIE
I don’t know if I want to hug my phone or throw it against the wall.
I thought the first time Tyler looked at me with that extrasomethingin his eyes was a figment of my imagination. A mirage brought on by lack of sleep and my general lack of situational awareness in the morning. But with the caffeine from almost an entire cup of coffee swimming in my veins, I know now it wasn’t a mirage because I just saw it again, and I have no idea what to make of it.
And now I’ll never know if Tyler leaning across the island meant he was about to kiss me or maybe just wipe drool or something equally horrifying off my face because my fucking phone had to go and ruin the moment. It’s a good thing I had a reasonably delightful conversation with football guy before I got out of bed because so far everything else about this morning is a complete shit sandwich.
“Uh, Soph?”
“What?” I shoot back, my head snapping up to meet Tyler’s amused smile, as if what just happened didn’t affect him one tinybit, and maybe it didn’t. Maybe I actually did make it all up in my head twice in ten minutes.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Are you going to get that?”
Shit.
I glance down at my still-ringing phone to see Sarah’s name on the screen. Confused about why she would call this early in the morning instead of texting, I swipe to answer, stabbing the speaker button because it’s way too early to be holding a phone to my ear.
“Hey, Sar, what’s up?”
“Hey, Soph.” The slightly panicked tone coming from my most sunshiny friend has me immediately on guard, and I know Tyler hears it too because his eyes meet mine, his eyebrow raised in question.
“Is everything okay? Are you okay?”
Sarah blows out a frustrated breath. “I’m fine, but I think you should come home. We’ve got a really big problem.”
“What the actual fuck?” I mutter, staring at the wet, soggy mess that used to be our living room. Water drips down the walls and streams over the hardwood floors, the puddles deep enough that our area rug in front of the sofa practically levitates, held in place only by the weight of the coffee table that is now covered in flecks of paint and damp hunks of plaster. The drywall on the ceiling bubbles in some places and is cracked open entirely in others, exposing the wet wooden beams above.
The steady drip of water fills the space, and I can see enough of the kitchen and dining room from where I stand to know they didn’t fare any better.
I shiver, the lack of heat in the house that evidently caused this catastrophe suddenly obvious as the adrenaline of Sarah’s call wears off and the reality of the situation sinks in.
“Here, Soph.” Tyler comes up behind me and drapes a jacket over my shoulders. The jacket I left his house without when I flew out his front door straight to my car, the wordshouseandheatandfloodechoing in my head. “This is the fucking worst, but at least you won’t freeze to death.”
With a huff, I shove my arms into the sleeves and Tyler puts his hands on my shoulders, spinning me around and then bending to zip me up himself. Standing, he pulls my hair out of the neck of the jacket, and for sure the shiver currently racing up my spine is from the fact that it’s ten degrees outside and probably even colder inside because there’s no heat in my house. Definitely not from Tyler’s fingers grazing my neck.
