Page 7 of One Day

“Do I even ask?” I reach for the light switch, flipping it on to find him sprawled out amongst my pale orange-colored bedding. The color is complemented by the pops of pink and yellow throughout the room. Bekah once said it looked like a sunset had thrown up everywhere, and she wasn’t exactly wrong. I’m not sure I’d want it any other way.

He lifts his head from the mountain of pillows with a smile, resting the phone in his hand against his chest. “Fitz brought home the screamer again,” he explains, not needing to say more because I am already well aware of the details of his center and the volume at which he hooks up. “It’s cool if I crash here, right? We have an early practice in the morning, and you know how I am if I don’t get enough sleep.”

“Didn’t feel like sleeping over at the redheads?” I tease, shutting the door. Dylan is already handing me the pajamas I keep tucked under my pillow when I walk towards the bed.

“You know how I feel about sleepovers,” he says, attention back on his phone while I change out of my clothes. I do know. It’s easier to stay unattached when there are no expectations beyond sex. It’s rule number one when it comes to Dylan.

“She wasn’t the one, huh?”

He lets out a laugh when I settle at my desk nestled in the corner of the room, pulling open the top drawer to pull out my skincare. “I’m not sure I have a one.”

I turn my head, taking in the faraway look on his face. It wraps around my heart and squeezes tightly. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know anymore. It’s not a priority for me right now, you know? I just want to focus on hockey and being the best I can be. I don’t see myself putting that aside to make someone else number one.”

“You don’t want someone to celebrate with?”

“That’s what you’re for, Sunny,” he tells me, tucking one of his arms under his head while watching me clean my make-up off. “Besides, we have a pact. If we’re both still single at thirty-five, we get hitched, and I buy us a big house with all my hockey money.”

“When did I agree to this? I ask, turning to him as I put moisturizer on.

“Now?”

“I love you, but no,” I say, placing everything back in my drawer before tucking my curls into my silk bonnet. “You can buy me that big house, though.”

“Whatever you want,” he hums, closing his eyes when I stand up. “How was the rest of your night? Walker still falling at your feet?”

“If rejecting me after I suggested we have sex is still falling at my feet, sure,” I tell him while reaching for my bedroom door, leaving him to sit with my words while I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I don’t know if I expected Walker to say yes. I hadn’t thought it through when it all but tumbled out of my mouth and onto the table.

It’s one thing to think about it and know he does too, and something else entirely to lay it all out in the open for him to pick apart. I shouldn’t have said anything. If I had been thinking more clearly, I wouldn’t have, but there’s something about Walker that makes it easy to lay my soul out for him to see. He’s never once made me feel bad about being an open book, and I know this will be no different. It will be something we tuck away and never bring up again.

I’m just not sure I know how to brush this one off. Or if I want to.

“What are you talking about?” Dylan asks, leaning into the door frame while I run my toothbrush under the water.

Instead of giving him an answer, I start brushing my teeth and hold his gaze in the mirror. Lines of frustration start to run across his forehead, waiting for me to spit it out. Both the toothpaste and an answer.

“Sunny, what did you do?”

Spitting, I rinse my toothbrush before finally answering him. “I took what you said into consideration and thought maybe he felt the same.”

“You seriously asked him to sleep with you?”

Turning to face him, I lean my hip against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “It seemed like a fair question at the time,” I share, chewing my bottom lip.

Maybe if I weren’t so used to being open with Walker, I’d be slightly embarrassed by the whole thing, but I’m not. I’m just frustrated. With myself, for dropping it on him like that and with the lack of sex I’m having.

“What exactly did you say?”

“I asked if he ever thought about sleeping with me, which he didn’t say yes, but his face did, and then I suggested we have sex because I miss it.”

He raises an eyebrow, amusement on full display in his eyes. “Do you?”

“So much,” I whine, stepping towards him to force him back into the hall. Except he doesn’t move, so my forehead hits his hard chest. “It’s pathetic how long it’s been, Dylan.”

“How long?”

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