Yeah. She’s definitely nervous, not that I can blame her. I glance down at her, trying to fight the warmth that’s taking over my chest but failing miserably. There are so many things about this girl…
I like how tiny Sydney is. I like how much bigger I am than her too. Makes me feel like I can take care of her, protect her. Not that she can’t take care of herself, but the more time I spend around her, the more I feel almost…caveman around her. Like I want to keep what I think is mine.
Fucking ridiculous, right?
I like her attitude, her personality, how easy she is to talk to, her sparkling blue eyes and her pretty smile. I like how feisty she can be, how honest she’s been, how worried she is that I might think less of her because of a couple stupid decisions she’s made.
She’s young. I’ve done stupid shit, too. Who am I to judge?
Resting my hand on her lower back, I guide her to my apartment, where I unlock the door and lead her inside. I go to the kitchen and flick on the overhead switch, illuminating the space, and she stands in the middle of my living room, taking in everything.
“It’s very…empty,” she says when her gaze meets mine.
I shrug. “I haven’t had much time for furniture shopping lately. Just went for the essentials.”
“Like a PlayStation 4?” She’s teasing me again.
“Hey, every guy needs one of those in his life.”
“What if I told you I stopped dating a guy because I believed he liked his PS4 more than he liked me?”
“I’d call bullshit.”
She raises a brow, silently challenging me.
“Really? He’d rather spend time with his PS4 versus spending time with you?” He must’ve been a total idiot.
Sydney nods, crossing her arms in front of her as she watches me. “He was a total jackass.”
“I bet.” I go to her, giving in to my need to touch her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I hold onto her loosely. “I would choose you over my PlayStation 4. Just thought I’d let you know that.”
She fakes a surprised gasp as she rests a hand over her chest. “I’m so honored.”
“You should be. I love that thing.” Bending my head, I brush my lips against hers. She kisses me back, her lips soft and pliant, and I sneak my tongue in for a quick lick before I pull away. “Want something to drink?”
She shakes her head.
“Something to eat?”
“We just ate.” She makes an annoyed yet cute face. “How about a tour of your apartment?”
“Okay, though there’s not much to see.” I throw my arms out wide. “This is the living room.”
“No end tables or lamps, huh?”
“Who needs light when you have a big screen TV on?”
She muffles her laughter as I lead her into the kitchen. “Where I cook,” I tell her.
“You cook?”
“No. I did find a good Chinese takeout place, though.” I turn to meet her gaze. “You like Chinese?”
Sydney nods. “I do.”
I’ll remember that for later.
I point toward the very small, very empty dining room. “I still need a table, but that’s the dining room.”
“You do.” She pokes my chest, right in between my pecs. “How many bedrooms does this place have?”
“Just one. I wanted something small. I don’t need anything big.”
I take her down the hallway and point out the bathroom, which, thank Christ, doesn’t have my dirty underwear scattered on the floor or dried toothpaste splatters on the mirror. That’s been known to happen back in the day when Owen and I lived together, but now that I’m on my own, I try to actually clean up my stuff. Plus, I’m never home to make a huge mess, so that makes life easier.
“And here’s where the magic happens,” I say as I push open the bedroom door for her.
Sydney peers inside, looking around, and I hit the light switch on the wall so she can see everything better. She quietly takes in my giant king-sized bed that’s actually made for once, the black comforter stretched across the mattress with hardly a wrinkle in sight.
“I think you have something against lamps,” she says.
I start to laugh. “What’s the point when I have overhead lighting?”
She enters my bedroom and turns in a slow circle, checking everything out. “Overhead lighting is harsh and makes everyone look washed out. Haven’t you ever heard of mood lighting?”
I decide not to tell her she looks pretty damn good-standing in my bedroom with all that so-called harsh lighting shining down upon her. “Lamps are unnecessary.”
“To people who have something against lamps.” She rests her hands on her hips. “You don’t even have any bedside tables or a dresser.”
“So?”
“Where do you plug your phone in at night?”
“On the floor?” She’s making a big deal out of nothing.
“Oh, my gosh. You’re hopeless.” She throws her hands up in the air. “You need someone to take you furniture shopping.”
“I don’t have time.”
“You have two weeks until your first regular season game,” she points out.
I’m impressed she knows. “Been learning a little about football, huh?”
“Fable’s taught me a thing or two. And I’ve been paying attention.” She points at the closed closet door. “Walk-in closet?”
“Yeah. Don’t go in there, though. It’s a total disaster.”
Hmm, spending too much time in Wade’s bedroom, staring at that giant bed he sleeps in every night is turning my thoughts into a total disaster. As in, all I want to do is get in that bed with him.
And what would happen afterward would probably end up a total disaster too. I know it. That’s why I shouldn’t do this.
Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the bed and fix my gaze on Wade. “I like your place.” It’s bare but definitely has potential. “Add some furniture and a couple of lamps, and you’ll be set.”
He seriously has something against lamps. There isn’t one in this entire apartment. How does the guy see? I hate overhead lights. They’re so harsh and most of the time, they make me look awful. All pale and washed out, like a ghost.
“You should come shopping with me.” Wade smiles, seemingly bashful, which I find adorable. How can such a big, muscular guy also be adorable? “If you have time. I know Fable has you working extra hard.”
“Yeah. She does give me the occasional day off,” I tease. “Seriously, though. I’d help if you want me to. Fable would probably love to help, too.”
“Just don’t pick out anything too girly,” he says with a grimace. “I’m not into that look.”
“Give me some credit. I wouldn’t pink-ify your apartment. I’m not that mean.”
“Pink-ify? Good to know.” He nods, then glances around, looking as helpless as I suddenly feel.
What next? What, what, what?
“Uh, you want to go watch TV?” he asks.
Is he suggesting we Netflix and chill? I do not want to become a meme. Though I do love Netflix. “Do you actually have cable?”
He shrugs those broad shoulders and I’m suddenly struck with the urge to climb him like a tree. “I actually don’t. I won’t be home enough to justify the cost. I do have Netflix, though.”
“Do you have a laptop?” When he nods, I keep talking. “Grab it and let’s watch something here.” I wave a hand toward the bed.
What am I suggesting? I don’t want to get in too deep yet I say we should hang out and watch Netflix on his bed.