Page 20 of Stick With Me
A deep chuckle interrupts my thoughts. He meets my eye in the mirror’s reflection with amusement. “Hannah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I don’t know if I should feel complimented or offended.” He smirks.
My cheeks feel so warm they could melt an ice cube. Any semblance of a dignified response is stuck in my throat, so I grab a pillow from the bed and chuck it at his head, which only makes him laugh harder. “I was caught off guard, you jerk.” I try to sound indignant, but the laughter bubbling up makes it impossible.
He grabs a T-shirt and quickly tugs it on. “There, I’m all covered. Don’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities, Sunshine.”
I grab another pillow, ready to launch it, but his long strides close the distance before I get the chance. Suddenly, I’m scooped into his arms, bridal style, and tossed onto the bed. I land with a huff, dissolving into a fit of laughter that cramps my stomach and blurs my vision. When I finally wipe away the tears and open my eyes, he’s lying beside me, head propped on his hand, watching me.
His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his gaze—something soft, something I’ve never noticed before. Without saying a word, he gently wipes away a tear I must have missed. His thumb lingers at my temple, caressing in a soothing motion I’m not even sure he’s aware of. I think he might kiss me, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. But unlike the cringe I felt at the possibility of Jace doing the same, I feel something closer to anticipation.
The moment his hand leaves my face, I quickly sit up in bed, trying to put some space between us. Even as I do it, I’m not sure why. It feels like we’re in danger of crossing lines we can’t come back from. Clearing my throat, I grab the remote from the nightstand and flip through the options to distract myself. Heat radiates from Ryan’s thigh, where it rests inches from mine, making it hard to focus. I scoot back against the headboard, and Ryan mirrors the movement, moving to the other side of the bed.
“What should we watch?” I try to get comfortable.
“Whatever you want.” His voice is soft, almost amused.
After watching about twenty trailers, we finally settle on a thriller about a detective hunting a female serial killer. Our food arrives not long after, and we eat in comfortable silence, pausing the movie occasionally to share theories and predictions.
“I told you,” I gloat as the credits roll.
“All right, my turn. I get to pick the next one.”
It doesn’t take him long to settle on another thriller. I slide under the covers, getting comfortable. “I’m gonna win this one too,” I say through a yawn.
He chuckles. “Leave it to you to turn movie watching into a competition. I thought I was supposed to be the competitive one here, being the athlete and all.”
Scooting closer, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against his side. I tense for only a moment before melting into him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoes in my ear as I rest my head on his chest. I tell myself I’ll move back to my side in five minutes. Just five.
I squint my eyes open, feeling disoriented. The sky outside the window is dark, and the only light in the room comes from the faint glow of the television. There’s a warm, comforting weight wrapped around me, like I’m tucked into a heated blanket. I’m no longer resting on Ryan’s chest but lying on my side, with him curled around me like a koala. One arm is tucked beneath me, the other draped across my body, while his knee is wedged between mine. As I try to wiggle free, he grumbles and pulls me closer. I roll over to face him, giving his shoulder a light shake.
Sleep still thick in his voice, he asks, “What time is it?”
“Don’t know. We fell asleep. I should get up and go back to my room.”
He hums, which I take as agreement. I try to get up, but instead of letting me go, he cradles the back of my head and gently draws me closer. My forehead presses against his neck, and his chin rests on the crown of my head. “Go back to sleep, Hannah.”
My mind scrambles for a rebuttal, but my body has already surrendered, and I drift back to sleep, wrapped in his arms.
When I stir again, sunlight spills into the room, and Ryan’s voice, full of excitement, pulls me from sleep. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
The spicy-sweet scent of chai coaxes my eyes open, and a big mug waits for me on the nightstand. Ryan hovers at the foot of the bed, watching as I take my first sip. It’s perfect, made just the way I like it, with milk and just enough sugar to balance the bitter black tea.
I’m waiting for the awkwardness to kick in after a night of cuddling, but it never comes. He smiles at me before grabbing a change of clothes and disappearing into the attached bath. Maybe it’s not a big deal for him. I’m sure he shares his bed with women often enough that having me there wasn’t anything special. Though I’m guessing the no-sex-before-cuddling part is probably less common.
We have only two days left. Today is media day, and tomorrow is the All-Star game. Ryan flies out the day after, and I’m not ready for the weekend to end. It’s been the perfect escape from my real life. A post-breakup, pre-life-rebuilding vacation.
While I managed to dodge my influencer duties yesterday—thanks to Ryan sending me videos from the skills competition to post—I won’t be as lucky today. I’ll be filming short videos with the players for social media while Ryan handles interviews. I thought he’d have to be there before the press, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush.
“Shouldn’t you be at the arena?” I yell to him through the half-open door. He really has a habit of not shutting them.
“Nope, I’ve got a couple of hours before I need to be there. Get up, come with me on a run.”
I laugh, remembering my last attempt at a run. I’m definitely not ready for that level of embarrassment with an audience. “Absolutely not. Do you even know me?”
“Okay.” He strides out of the bathroom, dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved Saints shirt. “Fine, we’llwalkon the beach, and we can pick up something for breakfast first.”
“Sold!” I hop out of bed and head back to my room, quickly throwing on some leggings and a sports bra, and tying a flannel around my waist in case it’s chilly. “Okay, I’m ready.”
He meets me in my room and loops his arm over my shoulders, leading me out of the hotel.
