Sad.
Pitiful is what I am. Boo hoo hoo, poor little Wade doesn’t want to be all alone with his feelings and his demons keeping him up through the night.
Well, I have no real demons. Shit, I should be on top of the world right now. I should’ve gone out to a bar when the guys invited me earlier, before I left the locker room. I could’ve gone out, got drunk, found a girl, and fucked her into oblivion.
But I didn’t do any of that. Hell, I couldn’t. What if I was somehow photographed with another girl when I’m supposed to be with Sydney? The shit would hit the fan, Drew and Fable would be pissed at me, and Sydney would probably never talk to me ever again.
Not that I wanted to do any of that. Not really. I’d rather be with this girl, right here. Talking to her. Learning more about her. Her revelation was surprising, but then again not. I’m glad she trusted me enough to tell me her secrets. I want to find out more.
A lot more.
And for once, that thought doesn’t scare the hell out of me.
Without saying a word, I pull onto an off ramp, which gets Sydney’s attention.
“Where are you going?” She sounds confused.
Good. I am confused. So at least we can be confused together.
“Can I ask you a question?” I go into the left-hand turn lane and stop at the red light, flicking on my blinker. Ready to turn right around and get onto the freeway headed back to my place if she wants me to.
“Um, sure?”
“Will you come home with me?”
Dead silence is my answer.
Shit.
“Never mind,” I mutter, glancing in the rearview mirror, ready to head straight across the street so I can get back onto the freeway and go on to the Callahan house. Dump Sydney off, go along with this pretend relationship plan for the next five days and then call it good.
“No, wait. I didn’t say no. Are you—are you sure you want me to come back to your place?” Her voice is a little shaky and I wonder if she’s nervous.
If she is, that’s fine. I’m nervous too, not that I’d admit it.
“Only if you want.” The light turns green but I haven’t turned yet. I don’t want to press my luck, or end it. “Only if you’re comfortable. We won’t do—anything if you don’t want to. I just don’t…”
“Don’t want to be alone tonight?” she finishes for me.
I blow out a harsh breath and nod. “Yeah.”
A horn honks behind us and I glance in the rearview mirror again, realizing there are at least three cars waiting to turn. I turn off the blinker, my foot hovering over the gas when Sydney answers me.
“I’ll come over,” she whispers. “If you want me to.”
“I want you to.” Before she can second-guess her answer, I hit the gas and turn left, my tires squealing. We’re back on the freeway within minutes, both of us quiet, the sexual tension growing with every minute that passes. Or maybe that’s just my imagination, but I don’t think so. The attraction is there, simmering between us. There’s no denying it. I keep sneaking glances at her, anticipation licking through my veins, making me want to touch her.
But I keep my hands firmly locked on the steering wheel.
Sydney’s on her phone, sending a text to someone, but I say nothing. Wait for her to volunteer the information instead. “I let Fable know I’m not coming home tonight.”
Uh oh. “What did she say?”
“She told me to have fun.” She rolls her eyes and starts to laugh softly. “So embarrassing, and kind of weird. I sort of admitted without saying it out loud that I’m spending the night with you.”
Does she think I’m bringing her home only to get her in my bed? That’s not the case. Not really. Though I’d like to get her in my bed, I won’t push…
“I want you to know, I have zero expectations tonight.”
“Well, that’s kind of insulting.” She sounds amused. I hope she is.
“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Now I’m the one laughing, though not at her. More like at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I just mean, whatever you want to do, I’m up for. If you don’t want to do anything, I’m okay with that too.”
“Honestly? I don’t know what I want. It’s not like I plan this sort of thing out, you know? It usually just—happens.”
“Same.” It’s all I can manage to say. Sex is sex. It happens or it doesn’t. I never put much thought leading up to it. No expectations, no emotions, none of that. I treat it like a form of release. Sometimes I’m having it with a fun or hot girl, which always makes sex better.
Like Sydney. She’s fun. She’s hot. The two of us together would probably be pretty damn good.
“A bunch of prep beforehand and candles and silk sheets and rose petals isn’t my style,” she continues.
“Mine either.”
“So you’re not a romantic?”
“Not even close,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just a guy.”
She’s laughing again. “A big, sexy guy.”
My head whips to the right, studying her. “You think I’m sexy?”
“Um, yeah.” Her tone is pure duh, which hey, is flattering. “You’re good-looking and you know it. Plus, you have a lot of muscles.”
I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, ignoring the good-looking comment. Over the years, I’ve heard plenty from friends and teammates about my pretty face. It’s annoying. A detriment most of the time, I swear. “Training all those years gave them to me. I used to be a wimp.”
“Right. Well, you’re definitely not a wimp now.” She slaps her hands over her cheeks, comically embarrassed. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“I can’t either.” I grin, pressing my foot on the gas a little harder. I can’t wait to get her home.
We make it back to my apartment in record time, and as we climb out of my truck, I start to worry. I don’t have much furniture. A single couch in the living room along with a big screen TV mounted on the wall and my PS4 set up. I have a king-sized bed in the master bedroom and a couple of bar stools at the kitchen counter. That’s it, furniture-wise. Hell, I don’t even have a dresser in my bedroom. All of my clothes are shoved into the walk-in closet.
I haven’t had time to go furniture shopping and I couldn’t give a shit about knickknacks and that kind of stuff. Once the season schedule starts in earnest, I won’t be around much anyway. I don’t need anything beyond the basics for now.
“This is a nice complex,” Sydney says as we head down the walkway toward my apartment building. It’s dark so she can’t see much, but maybe she’s just trying to make conversation.
“Thanks. I chose it because it’s so close to the stadium. I didn’t want to be too far away.”
“Smart.” She looks around. “It seems very quiet here.”
“It’s quiet because it’s late at night,” I tease, and she just rolls her eyes at me in response.