Page 139 of Colliding with Ten

“Lennox.” I crossed the kitchen and put my hands on his chest. Under my palms, his heart was racing. “I’m exhausted. I could fall asleep standing up right now.”

“Wait! You’re not coming to the game?” he asked. “There is plenty of food there. I had you set up in the VIP lounge.”

“I’m sorry, babe. We flew back from Chicago last night. I had an early morning at the facility today, and then I flew here to be with you.”

I was tired, but I also didn’t want to admit that being at the Stallions game would bring unwanted questions and attention that neither Lennox nor I needed at this stage in our relationship.

He frowned. “You’re right. I should have thought of that.”

That was the last straw. I started to chuckle, which turned into laughter, and he laughed too. Nothing about this was funny.

“We are terrible at this,” I said.

He hugged me. “We gotta do better next time.”

He wrapped me tighter, and I breathed him in, smelling his mint aftershave.

“You sure you don’t mind if I crash?”

“Of course not. We have the rest of the week, right? It’s my bye week.”

“Yeah. You go play your game. Kick someone’s ass. And when you get back, you can feed me whatever you want. I’m not picky. I’ll even eat the pickle.”

He nuzzled my neck, kissing me there. “Don’t eat the pickle.”

“I might eat the pickle.”

He pulled back and looked down at me. “I can get food delivered.”

“It’s looking at me, Lennox. It’s lonely.”

The corner of his mouth quivered. In his state, that was like a standing ovation. I lay on his chest, feeling the material of his outfit against my cheek. Then I pulled back and looked at him. I’d been so absorbed in his mood that I’d missed the outfit, and now that I saw it, I needed time.

Lennox was dressed for the pre-game tunnel walk. Cameras were lined up for this, and fans would comment about it for days. He was wearing a tailored camel overcoat over a black turtleneck, fitted trousers that broke at the ankle, and leather shoes. A white-gold and diamond chain hung at his collar, sparkling in the light. He’d been spiraling in custom wool and pacing in shoes that cost more than my entire wardrobe.

“You look incredible.”

He glanced down at himself like he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “It’s just clothes.”

“That coat is not ‘just clothes.’ That coat has a personality.”

His mouth lifted. Two almost-smiles in ten minutes. I was on a roll. Then, he took note of my clothes too, looking suspiciously at my shirt with the tiny SpongeBob embroidery. The shirt that I stole from him.

“I’ve been looking for that.”

I smirked at him. “You can’t have it back.”

He hugged me again, growling in my ear. “It looks better on you.”

Then he kissed me and let me go, steering me toward the stairs.

“Should I order food?”

“No,” I said back from the stairs.

“I’ll bring food when I get back, and we’ll hang out tonight.”

“Is that a promise?”