Page 122 of Drop Shot
“I need a bigger apartment.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.
“No!” I protest too loudly and probably too quickly.
“What is it with your obsession with my apartment?” she laughs and hands me a box to stack in the living room.
“It feels like home.”
Her soft smile as she hands me another box feels like a physical caress.
Ten minutes later all the boxes are moved from the bedroom, and we take turns showering because we both know if we shower together, we’ll end up doing more than that, and we’re both too tired from traveling to get sidetracked right now.
We need sleep.
When I settle into her bed after my shower, she quickly rolls over to me and I spoon myself against her. She gives a tiny, contented sigh before immediately falling asleep.
I smile, smoothing her hair back so the fan can’t continue to blow it in my face.
It’s funny how it’s Jackson of all people who I have to thank for this. Without him, I probably would’ve continued to put Whimsy in the box of off-limits. She was my employee, not a girl I could screw around with. Now, I realize she’s the only girl. The one I’ve always needed.
Whimsy is still passed out asleep when I wake. I move as silently as I can around her room, rifling through my bags to change into shorts and a running shirt and shoes. I figure I can jog over to the coffee shop and get us our usual favorites and something to eat for breakfast. We skipped dinner, so I’m expecting her to be extra hungry this morning.
The run is short, but it goes a long way to waking me up and helping me to feel more alive.
I step up to order and instead of only getting coffee, I get two sandwiches as well.
I don’t want to spill the coffee or let the food get cold, so I get an Uber to take me back to the apartment.
I don’t have a key, so I’m forced to knock and hope that she’s awake and can hear. Whimsy is a deep sleeper, and sometimes I’m certain there’s nothing at all that could wake her.
Luckily for me, she opens at my second knock. Her blond hair has been pulled back in a ponytail and she’s changed from her pajamas to a pair of blue shorts and matching sports bra. My jaw drops as my eyes rake over her body.
“Stop looking at me like you want to eat me.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that’s exactly what I want to do, but then she goes and adds, “My mom and sister are here.”
She opens the door wider and I find Jules and Juniper on the couch.
“Hey, Junie girl!” I call out.
Whimsy’s sister’s eyes widen in excitement. I have to all but shove our morning goods at Whimsy to save them from being crushed as Junie barrels into me.
The hug is bone crushing despite her small frame and I close my eyes, hugging her back.
I never would’ve expected to love Whimsy’s sister as much as I do, but the girl’s a riot. We text almost every day.
“You didn’t respond to my last text,” she says with a pout, hands on her hips after she’s let me go.
“I’m sorry. I probably missed it while I was traveling.”
“You two text?” Whimsy asks in surprise, setting the to-go boxes on her counter.
“All the time,” I reply. I’ve never mentioned it to Whimsy, because I’m not doing it to try to win any points. I like her little sister, and if she wants to text me twenty times a day with tennis questions then I’m more than happy to answer them.
“Seriously?” Her eyes go to Junie.
“Yeah,” Juniper replies with a shrug. “He’s my best friend.”
The look in his Whimsy’s eyes is a mixture of awe and something else I don’t dare put a word too.
“Juniper’s my buddy.” I rest my arm on her little sister’s shoulder.
