His chest rumbles, his voice lowering. “Trying to distract me tonight? With those heels and those lips? Because you look fucking stunning.”
Before I can answer, the referee blows the whistle. Ryan’s focus is instantly back on the game. However, the man directly across from him on the inbound, Connor Easton, has his mischievously glinted eyes on me.
His stare is uncomfortable and unrelenting. I offer him a small smile, hoping to pacify the weird sudden interest he has in me, and thankfully the game restarts and he’s gone.
“Jesus,” Zanders laughs. “So, you and Ryan are sleeping together, huh?”
“Define sleeping.”
His hazel eyes narrow with annoyance. “Fucking, Ind.”
“No,” I quickly answer, but there’s not much conviction behind the word. “Do I want to?” I cock my head to the side. “Very much so.”
Zanders' amused laugh shakes his chest as we lean over Stevie’s empty seat to talk.
“I can’t though,” I continue. “Stevie will be upset. I tell her I’m planning to bang her brother all the time, but she knows I’m joking. Well, she thinks I’m joking.”
“Nah,” he reassures. “She wouldn’t be upset. I don’t know that she’d be cool with you using him as a rebound, but if it’s more than that, I’m sure she’d be supportive.”
Is that what this is? Is this unrelenting attraction simply the rebound I’ve been needing to get out of my system for the last seven months? Possibly. The last person I was with is Alex and now Ryan is a part of my daily life. It’d make sense if it was my body’s form of begging for a release. Would he want that? Do I want that? Yes, I want to sleep with him, but I also want to have breakfast with him every morning. I want to sit on the couch and read with him. I want to spend my days off work holed up in that apartment. I’m not sure those are rebound feelings, but I might need a rebound to figure it out.
By the time Stevie’s back in her seat, Ryan has a game high forty-two points, but the Devils are still losing by three in the fourth quarter. Connor Easton has continually tried to knock Ryan off his game, to get him to react to something, anything he says, but to no avail. The guy is a brick wall of emotions, and though I give him a hard time for his sometimes stoic and robotic personality, I can see why it works so well for him on the court.
That is until the final few minutes when Houston has a bad pass, and the ball comes bouncing over to where I sit on the sideline. It’s already out of bounds by the time Connor dives for it, and there’s truly no possible way he could save it. I don’t know why he’d even attempt to. His giant body falls into my lap, spilling my drink all over my chest. The crowd around me yelps, and the heavy blow to my body is a bit painful.
“I’m so sorry,” he says as he stands from my lap. He holds on to my shoulders, bending down and making himself eye level. “Are you okay? Let me get you another drink.” He slides a thumb over my cheekbone. “You’re far too pretty to be covered in—”
“Get your fucking hands off her.” Ryan shoves Connor. “Fuck you! You could've hurt her.”
I’m front row to watch Connor laugh as the ref blows the whistle and awards Ryan with a technical.
“Oh, bullshit!” Ryan protests. “He’s diving into the crowd for no goddamn reason! The ball was already out of bounds.”
“Technical foul. Chicago. Number five.”
“Whoa,” Stevie exhales. “Ryan’s never been tee’d up before.” She turns to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod in silence, hoping to regain the breath that was knocked out of me.
Connor saunters past Ryan on his way to the free-throw line, knocking his shoulder as he goes. “Finally found a weakness, Shay.”
“Fuck you, Easton.” Ryan charges at his back, but one of his teammates holds him back.
The typical calm, cool, and collected basketball player I’ve come to expect is nowhere to be found at the moment.
He stays as close to the sideline as possible while Connor shoots his free throws. Ryan watches the court but speaks to me over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I quickly blurt out. Because I am and that was a far bigger scene than it needed to be. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re not hurt?”
“No.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Ocean eyes sweep up my body, taking me in as if he’s double checking that I really am okay. I am, it just scared me a little. Finally, his eyes glide to mine and a soft smile graces his lips, those sweet dimples concaving into his cheeks.
“I like having you sitting so close.”
I laugh. “Ryan, I just caused you to get a technical foul.”
Connor makes both of his free throws.
“Worth it.”
The game continues, everyone’s attention back to the court.
Leaning over to Stevie, I speak quietly. “Daily update—I hope your brother wears his jersey when he fucks me.” I pop my shoulders. “Or I could wear it.”
Ryan’s teammate, Ethan, hit two back-to-back threes in the final minute, and the Devils pulled out the victory by one. It was thrilling to watch, seeing my roommate excel at the thing he’s best at. I knew he was good, even from my minimal knowledge of the sport, but talented and gifted don’t suffice.
He was magic.
There’s an odd sense of pride flowing through me as Zanders, Stevie, and I wait for Ryan outside the players’ parking lot. Some admirers have found their way down here, but the game ended long enough ago that most of the crowd has gone home, leaving only a handful of fans hopeful for a glimpse of Chicago’s basketball team.
Zanders is once again asked for photos and autographs to which he obliges, pulling Stevie along with him as well.
“Indy?”
The voice stops me in my tracks because I know it. I’ve memorized the way my name rolls off his lips, but I’m not ready for this. No part of me is prepared. There’s a wedding date on the calendar that I need to be ready by, and that day is not today.
“Indy,” Alex repeats when I don’t turn around the first time.
Unfortunately, there’s no out for me so I turn on my red heels and face him. “Alex,” I exhale in disbelief.
Kevin and two more guys from our friend group stand a few feet behind him, but they’re not who I’m looking at.
Blonde hair, brown eyes, the boy I loved my entire life stands in front of me. I haven’t seen him since the night I fled our apartment, so why does he look so goddamn good? Shouldn’t he be profusely apologizing or something other than smiling that fucking megawatt smile like he’s running into an old friend? As if I’m not the woman he’s known for twenty-two years and dated for the last six?
He shakes his head, still smiling. “What are you doing here? You’ve never been a basketball fan.”
“I um…” I swallow, words stuck in my throat as I throw a thumb over my shoulder to where Stevie and Zanders are entertaining fans, entirely unaware of the way my life has turned upside down in the last thirty seconds.
“That’s right. Your old coworker is Ryan Shay’s little sister.”
“They’re twins.”