Page 138 of Home Game

Ryan was incoherently drunk. Mica put his arm under Ryan and all but carried him out to the cab.

“You guys have a fight or something?” Mica’s voice sounded amused.

I looked over at Ryan. His eyes were shut and his head was against the window of the cab.

“He’s passed out,” Mica added.

“We didn’t fight.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I get it.”

“What do you get?”

“Be patient with him.”

“I’m not impatient. I don’t know what I am, but it’s not that.”

“The guy is like a flag twisting on a pole. He just needs to sort himself out.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “What pole is that?”

“You’re the pole.”

“I don’t understand what that means. Is that some Russian metaphor?”

He laughed. “You making fun of my English?”

“I don’t know what it means to be the pole.”

The cab pulled up to the hotel, preventing Mica from explaining himself further. I watched as he paid the driver and then dragged Ryan out of the cab.

We slowly walked across the lobby and up to the room. He lay Ryan down on the bed and looked at me. “You can take it from here?”

“I’ll keep my eye on him.”

“Remember, we have to be in the lobby at noon.”

“Okay.”

“Call me if you need help.”

I wokeup to the sound of a shower running and the sun pouring into the room. When Ryan walked out, wearing nothing more than a white towel around his muscular waist, my mouth went dry. That body had pressed against mine, those hands had held my neck, those lips had moved on my mouth.

My stomach felt weird, but in a good way.

I felt light-hearted as I got ready. How had I not noticed how sexy Ryan was? After last night, he was all I could think of.

I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him. I didn’t understand what had shifted, but everything about him seemed different.

Had his shoulders always been so muscular?

Why had I never noticed how his blue eyes seemed to sparkle with silver flecks?

And his lips. I stared at those lips, remembering how they felt against my own.

By the timewe left for the airport, I realized something was off.

Last night he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Today he refused to make eye contact. Not even one tiny glance. I chalked up his mood to being hungover. But when we arrived at the next hotel, he stopped in front of one room and handed me a keycard.

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