Page 48 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
The thought both exhilarated and terrified me. I’d been here before—thinking I’d found someone who understood me, only to discover I was being used. But this felt different. Austin had seen me at my most awkward, most chaotic, most real—and he was still here.
I perched on the edge of the coffee table, just watching him breathe, wondering what he was dreaming about.
As if sensing my presence, his eyelids fluttered. Then those blue eyes were looking directly at me, momentarily disoriented before focusing with sleepy warmth.
“Hey,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “You’re home.”
Those simple words—”you’re home”—sent a flutter through my chest. Home. When had his apartment started feeling like home?
“Hi,” I whispered, not wanting to dispel the soft intimacy of the moment. “Sorry I woke you.”
Without saying a word, Austin reached for my hand and pulled me down onto the couch beside him. I fell somewhat ungracefully, landing half on top of him before shifting to fit into the space between his body and the back of the couch.
“You didn’t wake me,” he murmured, his arm curling around my waist to hold me in place. “I was just resting my eyes while watching game tape.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I teased, feeling some of my nervousness dissolve at his easy affection.
He made a rumbling sound, half laugh and half groan. “How was your networking thing?”
“Excruciating. I had to talk to people who weren’t covered in bacterial cultures.” I paused, gathering my courage. “Austin, about yesterday?—”
“You don’t need to?—”
“I do,” I insisted, pushing up on one elbow to look at him. “I’m sorry about what I said. About who you’d be without hockey. It was insensitive, especially considering what you’re going through with your injury.”
His eyes studied my face with that intense focus that always made me feel like I was the only person in his world. “You were just asking a question.”
“A stupid, thoughtless question.” I placed my palm on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. “I’d hate if someone asked me who I’d be without science. It’s not just what I do—it’s part of who I am.”
“Exactly.” His hand moved up to cradle the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. “Hockey isn’t just my job, Kate. It’s been my identity since I was five years old.”
“I know. And I wasn’t suggesting you should be okay with losing it.” I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. “I guess I was trying to say that even if the worst happened—which it won’t—you’d still be you. And you’re...pretty amazing.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Don’t get cocky. I’m still mad at you for what you did during my call with Dr. Barnes.”
His almost-smile bloomed into a full grin, transforming his face. “No, you’re not.”
“I am,” I insisted, even as I shifted closer to him. “Dr. Barnes probably thinks I have some weird neurological condition now, given how I kept twitching and stuttering.”
“Should I apologize?” His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back.
“Absolutely not. That would imply you won’t do it again, and we both know that’s a lie.”
Austin laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest against my palm. “Tell me about your day. Besides the torturous networking.”
I nestled my head against his shoulder, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. “I made progress on my antibiotic-resistant strain. The aminoglycoside approach is showing promise.”
“In English, Lab Bunny.”
“The super-bacteria might have a weakness after all.” I traced my finger along the collar of his t-shirt. “What about you? How was PT?”
His expression sobered slightly. “It was good, actually. Better range of motion, less pain. Jen thinks I might be able to increase resistance next week.”
“That’s fantastic news!” I propped myself up again to see his face better. “You don’t look as excited as I’d expect.”
Austin was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on some point beyond me. “Coach called today. Mendez is out with a hip injury. They need me back.”
