Page 32 of Scoring Zone
The night Grayson asked me to hit the foam roller switched something inside me. I’d felt like a helpless victim, and he handed me a way to get my control back. I’ve spoken with asports psychologist, and I’m not naive and think I’m cured, but she told me to stop being afraid of my wants.
Here I am, desperate for my best friend. The physical distance between us needs to disappear. Forever.
This is me being brave.
I want Gray.
He’s clearly confused about why I’m rushing him along, but I can’t wait any longer. It’s been almost a month since Vegas, and I’d convinced myself I couldn’t have him.
But if I’m brave, I can.
We’ve got all night long because we both have a rare full day off tomorrow. One of us usually has meetings if we don’t have practice or a game.
All the way home, I keep my hands to myself and think I deserve a medal for my efforts. After all, his hair is falling out of its band, and I greedily want to tear it out to sink my fingers in it.
“What’s happening right now?” Gray asks as I lace our fingers and drag him over to the couch.
“I’ve been thinking.” I climb onto his lap. “You were right.”
Gray tilts his head, waiting for me to continue. I sort of hoped he’d fill in the blanks of the conversation by kissing me. His brown eyes dance, and his smile has pulled the scar on his lip tight. When he doesn’t wrap his arms around me, I push closer and his pupils widen.
“I was stupid and really want to kiss you again. Can I?” As the silence stretches, my heart’s beating triple time.
He licks his lips, and I track his tongue. Gray groans.
“Tinny, I’m worried about you.” His hands settle on my hips. The relief of his touch is instantaneous.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all that stuff and made you worry.” He hasn’t consented, and it’s killing me. Life won’t be the same if I’m wrong about us.
“I’m glad you told me, but I wish you’d told me years ago.” He glances down, and I don’t understand his sorrow.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask.
“Not at all.”
“Did you change your mind?” I shift to the side, exploring whether I’m imagining the bulge in his pants or not. I’m not. Thank God. He’s hard and growing larger.
“No. But…” He doesn’t say anything else as he trails his fingers along my hairline, around my ear, then cups my jaw.
I remind myself to stay where I am and be brave. I’ve never been in a position where I wasn’t sure of the other person’s feelings. Most women make it extremely clear what they want.
“Do you like living with me?” he asks, changing the subject, and I rear back. His large palm splays over my shoulder blades.
“Of course,” I answer, unsure why he’s asking.
“And you like our life and friendship?”
“G, we won’t lose this,” I say, bringing our foreheads together. “I promise.”
I inhale his hungry laugh. “You can’t promise that,” he whispers, a hair’s breadth away from my lips. My body coils tight, ready for him to say yes and give us what we both want.
“I want to promise you everything,” I say seriously. I trust him implicitly, and I’ve never been in a relationship where I think about the person all the time. Only him. He’s constantly on my mind.
“What happens when the darkness comes back?” He rubs his cheek against mine, and the friction of our stubble makes me shiver.
“You showed me I can take my control back.” I press a light kiss to his lips, and it’s excruciating to hold back from devouring him. He’s most likely felt this way for weeks, and I’ve been the one denying him.
“Tinny, promise to tell me if it happens again. I will help you. Please don’t shut me out.” His voice breaks.
