Page 98 of Racking Up Penalties
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Tessa observes, hands on her hips as she surveys the scene. Her gaze lands on a particularly large box marked ‘Ethan’s Books’ and she lets out a soft whistle. “You’re going to need some serious muscle for that one.”
I chuckle, exchanging a look with Tristan. “Guess it’s a good thing you have us then.”
“Maybe I’ll lift it,” Tessa says, lifting her chin.
“Here, let me.” I stride over to the hefty box, flexing my arm muscles jokingly before hoisting it up with a grunt for show. “See? Easy.”
“Show-off,” Tessa laughs, the sound light and musical to my ears.
Tristan joins in, lifting another box labeled ‘Ethan’s Hockey Gear’ with exaggerated effort. “All in a day’s work,” he says, puffing out his chest as if he’s just scored the winning touchdown.
“Thanks for your help,” Ethan says, grabbing the box Tessa just picked up out of her hands.
We fall into a rhythm, the three of us weaving around each other as we fill the car with Ethan’s belongings. I find myself watching Tessa under the guise of coordinating our efforts. Every now and then, our hands brush, sending jolts of electricity up my arm.
The morning air is crisp, the kind that nips at your cheeks and wakes you up better than coffee. I hoist another box labeled ‘Ethan - clothes’ into the trunk of my car, muscles straining against the weight. The sound of heavy footsteps and boisterous laughter signals the cavalry’s arrival.
I wondered if they would show up and they did. This should prove to Ethan that he is a part of the team.
“Need a hand with that, Captain?” Alec’s voice cuts through the cool air, his blue eyes bright and teasing.
“About time you guys showed up,” I reply with a mock scowl, relieved nonetheless. With a few strong tugs, the box is wrested from my grip and settled neatly by Luka’s capable hands.
“Thought we might find you trying to do it all on your own,” JD chimes in, his laugh ringing out like a welcome bell.
“Give us some credit; we made a lot of progress,” Tristan retorts, joining in the jest.
Miles rounds the group, clapping shoulders and offering easy smiles. Their presence fills the space around us with an infectious energy.
“Alright, team, let’s get this show on the road,” I declare, eyeing the remaining boxes. It’s going to take more than one trip.
Ethan thanks everyone for coming and I can see how much it means to him. We drive over to my house and start unloading.
“JD, take those boxes upstairs, second door on your left. Luka, those bags are for the bathroom—yeah, the one upstairs.”
They nod and move, their bulky frames surprisingly graceful in the tight corridors of our home.
“Careful with that one, Alec—it’s Ethan’s gaming stuff,” I warn, pointing to a box marked with a bold, black ‘Fragile.’
“Got it,” Alec responds with a seriousness that tells me how much he cares for his own gaming systems.
Amidst the whirlwind of movement, my gaze keeps finding Tessa. She flits from space to space, her red hair a vibrant flame against the neutral backdrop of our house. Every now and then, she catches me looking, and her lips curve into a teasing smile that sends an unfamiliar heat crawling up my neck.
No one lets her do anything and I can tell it amuses her.
I scoop up the top two boxes of a stack with ease. She steps back, allowing me room, but not before her fingers brush against mine—a whisper of contact that sets off a riot of sensation.
As the day wears on, the house fills not just with furniture and belongings, but with laughter and the easy camaraderie that comes from being around friends.
I steal another glance at Tessa, watching her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, leaving a smudge on her cheek. I lean over and wipe it away, feeling the warmth of her skin.
“Okay, Liam and Tessa you move these last few boxes and the rest of us will get another load,” Ethan says. I nod to agree and everyone leaves.
I carry a box of bathroom stuff up to our shared bathroom and Tessa follows with a stack of towels.
“You’re sexy in your moving clothes,” I whisper to Tessa in her ear. Her tight leggings and a baggy sweatshirt that I think belongs to Tristan are making me hard.
“I’m a mess!”
