Page 35 of Playing for the Dark

“Come to my place, Ellie. We can order in and watch some trash TV,” I chuckle, shoving my shoulder into hers but also remembering the filthy shit we did the last time we watched TV.

She grunts out, “Fine, but I’m not staying the night, you fuck.”

“You’re really keeping this playing hard to get facade up, aren’t you?”

“That’s my cue to leave; you two, be safe,” he shouts over his shoulder, heading towards the door.Shit, I wish my dad was as chill as Bill is.

We’re walking out to the team parking lot, and Ellie mutters, “Oh, great, a fucking bike, Zamir, seriously? Are you trying to kill me?”

“What? I brought you a helmet.”

She takes it on a huff but needs my help strapping it up. I also ensure it’s on her properly and turn the Bluetooth on so we can talk to each other while riding.

I get on my bike and pull my arms out of my backpack. “Turn around,Shpirt Im.I need to put the backpack on you so you can hold on.”

I throw my helmet on, and she’s staring at me so hard. I flip my visor down so the mirrored lens is all she sees. I hear her breath hitch through the speaker in my helmet.I have found the one with the mask kink.

She might as well be moaning when I hear her say, “Goddamn. My panties aren’t going to survive this one.” Yep, the bike is one of her weaknesses—perfect. I knew she had to have one. Finally, she turns around, doing what I say. I slide my backpack onto her shoulders.

I hold out my hand and help her on. I start to talk to her through the mic, “Hold on to me, and when we’re stopping, brace yourself on the tank so we don’t bang helmets or crush my nuts. They’re precious, clearly.”

She laughs, and it’s the most mesmerizing thing I’ve heard in a while. Now, I have a new goal anytime I’maround her: get her to laugh as much as possible. She gasps out, “Could you fucking hear my ‘goddamn’ and the little statement after it earlier?” She smacks my chest, and all I give her is a nod of my head. “Fuck. Don’t let that inflate that ego anymore. We won’t be able to fit your fat fucking head through your door.” She snorts, and now we’re both laughing as I pull out onto the street.

All she says is, “Don’t kill me, Z.” And fuck if that doesn’t shoot my heart straight to my asshole.

The only thing I know for a fact when it comes to Ellie, I’ll protect her at all costs.

1. Live For - The Weeknd, Drake

Chapter 27

Ellinor

The biggest surprise of the night is me not freaking the fuck out on the back of this goddamn bike. I find myself leaning into Zamir more and more, trusting that he has us. We’re pulling into the parking garage, and he finds a spot beside another badass-looking bike. I say into the mic of the helmet, “That’s a nice bike.”

He answers, “Thank you.” I’m so confused for a minute, and then it clicks that it’s his as well.

“Of course, it’s yours too.” I roll my eyes for no reason at all. He can’t see me because I’m still behind him. He lets the kickstand down and gives me his hand to help me off.

We step off the elevator and start to walk up the hallway that leads to his apartment. I look to the right and see fucking Marcello Barone unlocking a door.

1“Barone?” I call out. Zamir looks over at me with a “what the fuck are you doing” look. Marcello's ass was just sitting beside me and Dad at the game, but we were so immersed in the game that I didn’t even talk to him all that much. I’m sure Zamir doesn’t know we grew up together.

Cello looks up at me. “Ellie, fancy seeing you again. You know Zamir?” I’m hit with a pang of sadness. We used to have so much fun together, but with him taking over after his father passed, we grew apart, to say the least.

I point up at Zamir, who’s carrying both of our helmets now, and pat his chest. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s been stalking me, but he’s convinced me otherwise.” Marcello stiffens and reaches for what I know is his gun in his waistband, but Zamir doesn’t even flinch.Interesting.

“Woah woah, cowboy, chill. I’m okay. Seriously, though, I think I do have a stalker, and your cops aren’t doing jackshit to help; so if you could call one of them up, that would be great.” With that, I turn to Zamir and nod my head toward what I’m guessing is his door because the other is Nash’s. I haven’t heard anything from Big Boy in a minute. I’m trying not to let that get to me, but he might’ve chipped this frozen heart of mine open. He didn’t even acknowledge me at the game, and I know Zamir told him he was planning ontrying to get me to come over after the game. We even locked eyes a couple of times. Fuck he’s making me feel like a hormone-crazed teenager.He’s the goddamn teenager here.

We say our goodbyes and head to Zamir’s door, which has this wild-finger scanner to unlock it. “That’s some futuristic shit; what, do you think somebodies going to get through muscles downstairs?” I snort a laugh, but Zamir stays stone-faced. There’s a darkness peaking through before he catches himself and covers his mouth in a sly smile.

“No, nobody can get through my man Tom.” He shoots me a wink, and fuck if it doesn’t go straight to my pussy. We walk in, and his apartment is laid out just like Nash’s. It’s just decorated so much better.

“You need to help Big Boy decorate.”

He snorts. “Wine?” Ignoring my question at first, he adds, “I offered my designer. Hopefully, he goes with him.”

“Of course, thank you,” I respond. He’s also pouring himself a couple of fingers of what looks like scotch.

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