Page 6 of Catching Feels

Fuck, fuck, fuck, do not cry, do not?—

A light tap on the door, and then it opens just a crack. “It’s?—”

“I know who it is. It’s Hudson. You crack the door and wait to hear me say, I’m decent. Mom would knock and walk in, and Rome would wait until I opened it.”

“All right.” He flings the door open, eyes closed. “Coming in because you sound like you’re crying and … fuck.” He walks into the damn wall. “Well, that’s gonna leave a mark.”

“You’re such a jackass.” I laugh and cry at the same time. “I’m freaking decent.”

He walks over and wraps me in his big, stupid arms. “Stop crying over pierced nips, Jills.”

I sock him in the stomach. “I’m not. But you really should get your ass back to the gym.”

“Fuck, J.” He takes a dramatic step back and acts as if I’ve wounded him.

“Oh, please, no one could bruise that massive ego of yours.” I move to lean against the counter as I bat away tears. “For your information, I’m not upset you saw my?—”

“And you shouldn’t be. You’re a girl; you have boobs. Boobs that have gotten me into many a fight since they started sprouting when you were fifteen.”

I sock him again, but he keeps on going.

“You pissed you skipped walking at your graduation? I told you?—”

“That was my decision. No regrets.” No one I wanted to see, anyway. I saw through all those bitches in my classes who acted like they wanted to be my friend. It was the same shit growing up.

He brushes a hand over his face then lifts his shirt. “Same.”

“What the hell?” I gasp, seeing gold barbells through his man nips.

“Are you judging me?” he asks, dead serious.

I nod as I ask, “Why gold?” As soon as the question leaves my lips, I realize the answer. “Your team’s black and gold.”

He nods. “Got black, too, and even though we’re oversharing tonight, tits are different than the parts south of the border, so if you have?—”

“You pierced your dick?”

“Fuck no,” he states, looking at me like I’m insane. Then he grins. “Tags did it.”

“One of the Jags’ owners? He and Bella have that reality show and?—”

“Yep,” he says proudly. Then he narrows his eyes. “Don’t tell Rome.”

“Pfft, he has more ink than you—he can’t judge.” I step back and push myself up on the counter.

“I’ll have more. Planning on a back piece and the other sleeve next off-season.”

“What are you planning?”

He shakes his head. “We’ll discuss that later. How about we talk about what had you in tears?”

I shake my head. “It’s stupid.”

“You being upset isn’t stupid, Jillian.”

“Our lives have changed so fast that sometimes it’s hard to keep up.” It’s not a lie, but not the whole truth.

“It’s a whirlwind, for sure. I’d love to say it’ll get better, but if the Jags keep kicking ass, Roman’s season will overlap ours even more. Mom’s going to be flying in a million different directions. But you, you’re going to be in school with no interruptions. No Covid, no Dad squatting at the house, no?—”