Having come directly to the plane from leaving what will now be known as The Game of Suck, none of us had time to change out of our suits. Most of the guys have ripped off their ties. Dex has his jacket wadded up on the armrest between us and is currently digging his big elbow into it as if he can somehow grind the poor thing into dust.
“Flying sucks.” Make no mistake, we have it good in first class. The seats are big, the food is all right. But it still wears on you. There’s a loneliness to it. Especially when you’re coming home to an empty house. I used to like that. I’d crave alone time after being with my team for all hours of the day. Now, I think of walking into my dark place, reheating some chicken and rice to eat in front of the TV, and it just…sucks.
“But every time I want to bitch about the suits,” I say to Dex, “I think about what women wear and shut the fuck up.”
Dex grins, which makes him look downright mercenary with that thick beard of his. “Yeah. The heels are for shit. I don’t know how they do it. Although, I think I might straight up cry if they stopped wearing those pretty bras and panties.”
There’s a slight flush on his cheeks that makes me think he’s got certain sets in mind.
“You thinking about your girl, Dexter?” I grin, giving him a nudge.
Dex leans his head back and closes his eyes as if in pain. “I try not to. Makes it worse, you know?”
I almost tell him that I do know, the response so immediate that I actually gurgle. Because what the fuck? I don’t have a girl.
Then who the fuck have you been thinking about all week? Why is it that your empty apartment now feels like a tomb instead of a refuge?
Facts must be stated.
I miss Chess. I miss her like I’m being denied air.
Running a hand over my face, I stifle a groan. Doesn’t do any good. My mind is still filled with Chess. God, I actually sent her a care package of gelato. And got giddy as a preteen wondering if she’d like it and which flavors she’d try first.
“So your girl,” I say to Dex. “She’s Ivy Mackenzie’s sister?” Ivy Mac, as our world knows her, is an up and coming sports agent and the wife of Gray Grayson, a brilliant tight end, who unfortunately does not play for us.
“She is.” Dex’s expression can only be described as moony. I wonder if I’ll soon be wearing that same face. Maybe I’ve worn it already. Shit.
Dex stretches his massive hands wide, then curls his fingers into a fist. “First saw her in college. At Ivy’s house. Knew she was it for me right then.”
“But you’re just hooking up now?”
Dex slides me a glance. I get it. We don’t usually talk relationships. Hell, Dex doesn’t usually talk. But he doesn’t ask me why I’m so interested, for which I am grateful. Instead, he shrugs one massive shoulder. “Timing wasn’t right. I told myself it was for the best, that I wasn’t ready, all that shit.”
Quietly, I nod.
“Now that I’ve…That we’ve…” Dex actually flushes and clears his throat. “There’s zero hesitation on the field. Seems fucking stupid to hesitate in life.”
He’s right. I’ve never hesitated in football.
Staring at the seatback in front of me, I feel as if I’ve been suddenly caught doing something wrong. I shift in the narrow confines of my seat, trying to find room that isn’t there. “What if…” I lick my dry lips, too aware that Dex is quietly watching me. I huff out an uncomfortable laugh. “What if you don’t know what you want? Only that you want something more than what you have?”
“You talking about Chess?” When I shoot Dex a look, he quirks a brow. “I guess you’re not aware of how much you mention her.”
The heat on my cheeks is because it’s hot as fuck in the plane and I’m wearing my stupid suit jacket. Nothing else.
Dex has the stare of an agent on Draft Day.
“Okay, yeah,” I blurt, then sigh. “I think about her. A lot.” Always. “We’re friends but—”
“You want more,” Dex cuts in with a solemn nod that I’m pretty sure is his version of “duh.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” I rub my tight neck. “Chess is looking for a relationship with someone. God knows she deserves it. Yes, I want her.” Understatement. “And I know a one-off isn’t going to cut it.”
I’m not stupid, nor am I ignorant of my dick’s needs; you don’t lust over someone to this level and think it’s going to die out with one fuck.
“But…” Dex prompts.
“When I try to imagine past that, my mind goes blank. And I can’t breathe.” I’m not proud of this. But it’s the truth.
I force myself to look at Dex, and find him watching me with a small frown. He doesn’t say anything, and I swear the bastard does it to make me sweat. I’m about to tell him to forget the whole conversation, when he finally speaks.
“She mean something to you?”
“Yes.”
“Without the sex?”
“Jesus. Yes, all right? I’m not a total pig.”
He nods again. “Then leave it alone until you’re certain. Otherwise you’re just fucking with her head and that ain’t right.”
The muscles in my chest draw tight, and the stuffy air of the plane closes in on me. “You’re right.”
It hurts to say it. There’s a voice in my head that is protesting the fuck out of agreeing with Dex. It’s probably my dick, since he’s a selfish bastard. But it’s the region around my heart that aches.
The plane dips and turns on the final landing leg. Below, New Orleans is a faint glitter to one side, the enormous spread of Lake Pontchartrain an inky blot on the other side.
Home.
Chess is down there. My hand twitches with the desire to pull my phone out and text her. But the flight attendant has already chastised Gruben for texting. And I really should heed Dex’s advice, pull back from Chess for a while. Not seeing her every chance I get will probably help clear my head.
Then again, Dex had been warning me off sex, not friendship. I can still be Chess’s friend.
As soon as we land, every guy pulls out his phone and is on it. Including me.
BigManny: Just landed. What you up to, Chester?
She doesn’t answer.
I tuck my phone away and try not to be impatient. It’s evening. She might be eating. Or out. On a date. Yeah, not liking that idea.
I pull out my phone again. Nothing.
BigManny: You out?