Chase: Naked FaceTime?
Bailey: I thought you were teasing me until tomorrow.
Chases If you’re actually game, I’ll call off the teasing for now.
Bailey: We’ll see…
I was pretty sure she was fucking with me—probably getting revenge for earlier—but hey, there was a chance she was for real.
And maybe I had overreacted a little. I still thought Morrison was a stalker, though.
“Earth to Carter.”
I locked my phone and looked back up at Dallas. His light blue eyes pinned me to the spot, searing into mine, and his sharp jaw was tighter than the laces on my skates. He was more pissed with me than he’d been in a long time.
“What? We won, didn’t we?” I tugged my jersey off over my head and unfastened my shoulder pads.
“Barely,” he spat out. “And no thanks to you.” Dallas lowered his voice, brow furrowed. “Where the hell was your head at? You almost skated the wrong way at one point.”
“I told you; I was worried about Bailey. She was at the Bulldogs game alone.”
And by worried, I mean imagining all kinds of disastrous scenarios. Usually, I used my imagination for good—a.k.a. dirty—things, but I was also incredibly good at picturing bad possible outcomes too. Hadn’t realized that till recently, though.
“Did she get home okay?”
“Just now.”
“Good.” He slid off his elbow pads, giving me a withering look. “But you know worrying doesn’t actually accomplish anything, right?”
This, coming from the guy who did things like check the weather three times before he left the house for fear it might rain on his designer suede sneakers. Cute.
“I guess.”
I wasn’t much of a worrier in general, so I hadn’t given that idea much thought. What he said checked out, but somehow, I couldn’t effectively apply that principle to Bailey.
Dallas leaned down, untying his skates. “You’re gonna have to learn how to compartmentalize that shit.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve had way longer to figure out how to do that.”
Not all of us had been training for this boyfriend thing for months in advance like it was the fucking relationship Olympics. Come on.
“I guess.” He grunted. “But if you keep that up, Los Angeles will leave you here for another year.”
“You’ve had off games because of Shiv too. Remember our season opener?” I pulled off my skates and wiped off the blades.
“Vaguely,” he muttered.
Dallas couldn’t argue that one and he knew it. That game was a fucking disaster. They’d had a blowout fight earlier in the day—probably about the boyfriend/girlfriend label; thank god that was settled now. Our alternate captain, Maxwell, had to assume control because Ward was a total space case the entire time. In fact, he’d been an outright liability on the ice. And unlike tonight, we’d lost that game.
“Besides,” I said. “Miller already tore into me.”
“Next time you miss a pass like that, I’ll bench your ass myself.”
“Fair enough.”
After we showered, Dallas’s mood improved. He tended to blow up quickly and cool off equally fast once he said his piece.
“Are we still good to move Bailey’s stuff tomorrow afternoon?” I asked. “She doesn’t have a ton, so it’ll be pretty quick. Mostly it’s the dresser, bed, and desk.”
“Yeah. Around three or four or so? I’m taking Shiv to meet my parents for dinner at seven.” He zipped up his jeans and paused. “Though I guess I could shower at the girls’ place.”
Then they’d probably never make it to dinner. We had our own bathrooms at home, luckily, but that didn’t save me from the TMI knowledge that Shiv and Ward had a thing for shower sex. Unfortunately, while marble floor-to-ceiling tiles were nice to look at, the acoustics meant that sounds echoed. A lot.
“What’s this, now? Shiv is meeting Maggie and Stewart?” I let out a low whistle. “Big step.”
Dallas’s parents were awesome. His dad was a typical old-school litigator, senior partner at one of the big four firms and a total dick in the courtroom. Chillest guy ever in his personal life, though. As long as you didn’t fuck with him. There were very few people who actually scared me, but Stewart Ward was at the top of that list.
And Dallas’s mom was the warm, motherly type who fussed over everyone. She was a bit of a trophy wife—he definitely got his looks from her; not his dad. Maggie always flirted with me too. Not in a creepy way, but in good fun. Drove Dallas crazy, which was extra hilarious.
“’Bout time, right?” he asked. “We’re going to Allegro.”
“Fancy.”
That bill would clock in at five hundred dollars, easy. But that was the equivalent of a Chipotle bill for them.
“They’re paying. Might as well milk it while I still can.” Dallas shrugged.
“Yeah, once you make the league, they might actually make you pay your own rent.”
His lips curled into a wry smile. “Like you pay market rent, jackass.”
That was true. Our living arrangements were heavily subsidized by the Bank of Stewart Ward. I could easily afford to pay more, but his parents insisted on something “more reasonable for a student.” I tried arguing with them, but they wouldn’t hear it.
“I would if they’d let me,” I said. “I can’t help it if your parents have a soft spot for yours truly.”
“They haven’t gotten to know you well enough yet.” Dallas pulled his navy long-sleeved T-shirt over his head.
Except I’d spent the majority of the last four summers at their beachfront cottage. Ward was an only child, so I was the closest thing he had to a brother.
“You’re jealous because they like me better.” I tugged my black hoodie on and straightened it.
“If that were actually true,” Dallas said, “I’d go ahead and disown myself for being such an embarrassment.”
I glanced up from buckling my belt and grinned. “Love you too, man.”
“Who said I liked you?” He smirked. “You coming out for drinks?”
“Nah,” I said. “Don’t what to be tired for tomorrow. Big day of moving and whatever comes after that.”
Plus, I was still hoping naked FaceTime could be a thing.
“You’re so whipped.”
“Yup.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 42
OceanofPDF.com
MOVING DAY
Chase
I didn’t get naked FaceTime, but I got cleavage FaceTime, and that’s still pretty hot. And now Bailey was finally leaving her hellacious living situation with Satan’s mistresses.
Saturday was off to a great start.
After a quick lunch, we headed back to her soon-to-be-former place. Bailey sat at her desk, meticulously itemizing the contents of each box because she was adorably and obsessively organized. She didn’t even have much to keep track of, but hey, whatever worked.
Until Ward arrived to help move big things, I was taking care of the boxes of smaller items, stacking what I could fit in the back seat of the truck.
“Wow,” I mused, picking up another medium-sized cardboard box. It was one of the last, then we could move on to the large furniture. “It’ll be so weird for you to live somewhere I’m actually welcome.”
“I know, right? I can’t wait.”
From beside her on the desk, her pale purple phone vibrated. Then it vibrated again. She glanced down and made a sound of disgust.
Oh, it better not be.
I set down the box I was holding. “Is that dick texting you again?”
“Yeah.” She turned in her chair to face me, tugging on the drawstring of her turquoise hoodie. Her eyes were wide, her expression vaguely guilty. “I’ve been ignoring him.”
She should have blocked his sorry ass, but Bailey was scared he would escalate if she did. We’d argued about that, but I eventually gave up because fighting about him wasn’t worth it. Once she moved into her new place today—which he didn’t have the address for—she would hopefully come around.