Page 123 of Facing Off
The last time we were together, we kissed. My life tilted on its axis. Then she ran away, and I’ve missed her like hell since.
“I can’t help myself, darling.” I’m forcing a teasing smile. “I want to know everything about you.”
It’s true. I’m memorizing the titles that she’s got earmarked, so I can buy them later to read. And then I stick my nose in one and inhale that nice old paper smell.
“Such a weirdo,” she grumbles, but with a buried thread of affection.
I swear I hear it, and it makes me hope.
“Are you telling me no one else sniffs your books? I, for one, am aghast.”
“Aghast, really?” Her shoulders drop as her arms settle,and she stops moving them around so much. “And no, that never happens. Because I don’t have guests over.”
“Not even Kavi or Quinn?”Or other guys?
“Nope. I meet them at their places or we go out.”
I’m grinning, ear-to-ear. But also I’m looking around, so my reaction isn’t so obvious. There’s a small step down from the living room to the dining table, otherwise nothing else separates the two spaces. Her kitchen is further back, hidden and painted a super dark blue. There’s soft light coming from a window with this dangly black stained glass rose hanging from its ledge. Most of her stuff is dark or textural, but also cozy. I see a lampshade made of fringe, black-and-white checkered pillows, crimson red knobs on drawers, and lots of books on shelves.
This is her private sanctuary.
But she’s allowed me inside.
I’m so honored, I could turn into a puddle. Or go down on my knees again. But fuck, maybe that’s one of the reasons she freaked out in Oslo, so I resist the urge to do it again.
This matters so much. I can’t screw it up. I have to prove how much her trust means to me.
That’s why on the ride here, I read Team Nutcracker’s report. Most of it I understand. As a top-performing athlete, I’m no stranger to working on the psychological as much as physical. When I became captain, one of the first things I did was meet with the sports psychologist. We spent five hours discussing what leadership means to me.
Knowing Sonya, she’s not used to it. She’s struggling with those recommendations.I’m going to help her with that.
Turning away from her bookcase to face her, I say, “Hey. Thanks for inviting me.”
From the corner of her apartment comes ahiss.
“And for having Diana over, too,” I add. “When I camehome from the trip, she was mad at me for leaving, and with all the training I’ve been doing with the team, I don’t want her to think I’m abandoning her.”
“But is she okay?” wonders Sonya, eyeing the spot under her table that my cat has claimed, hoarding toys and food with her.
“Yeah.” I smile. “She hates being anywhere new for about an hour before she gets comfortable enough to explore it.” I sigh. “But trust me, she gets even madder when I leave her behind.”
I go over to pet my sweet, adorable, cantankerous, high-maintenance cat, then get up and take out my phone. “I don’t know if you’ve had dinner, Sonya, but I can order us some food.”
“No. I…made food.”
I stare at her. She shifts weight from one foot to another, not making eye contact with me.
“You made dinner for me,” I repeat.
“Yeah. I have extra. You can help me eat the extra. No big deal.”
My chest flutters. “Did you cook before or after you knew I was coming over?”
Sonya scowls and points to her couch. “Sit. Or I won’t bring the pasta out.”
“Pasta?!” I gush.
“Boxedpasta.” Her voice echoes. She’s already gone, rooting around in her kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Not all of us have pro-chef cooking abilities, so don’t be disappointed if it’s barely edible.”
