Page 24 of The Sky Between Us

“I can just go home,” she protested, taking her shoes from me. “But thanks.”

“You better wash it out because it will leave a stain and then I can never wear it again!” Sarah snapped.

Hazel opened her mouth to argue, but I gently caught her elbow and guided her towards the stairs.

“I can put it in the laundry and it will be dry in two hours. I’ll give you a shirt in the meantime. By the time you get home it will dry in and you will never hear the end of it.”

“Fine,” she muttered like an upset child and stomped up the stairs after me.

Biting my lip to not laugh, I kept looking over my shoulder at her cute, but angry face.

“This is my room,” I opened the door of the master bedroom and thanked my occasional OCD for everything being neat and tidy. My room was minimalistic, only a few books laid on my desk, my bed was made with plain white sheets and my clothes for the Monday morning practice were already folded on the chair with my gym bag below it.

“You don’t have many pictures.” Hazel observed as she walked around the room and checked my bookshelf and table. “Only posters. I’m not even surprised.”

I grinned as I watched her move around my room, like it was normal. I couldn’t remember the last time a girl was in my room, but her presence felt surprisingly natural.

“You like Barca?” she asked with a giggle, staring at one of the posters on my wall that I put up freshman year after my Euro Tour. “And Juventus, Real Madrid and... what’s this team?”

I grinned. “It’s Liverpool. An English team.”

“Nice,” she muttered, touching the team posters and stopping in front of a Messi one. “I like Ronaldo.”

“I’ll act surprised.” I let out a short laughter.

“I mean, he is cute,” she tilted her head, hair falling over her shoulder. “Didn’t take you for a Europe team guy.”

“I admire teams in Europe,” I said, sitting on the bed as Hazel walked to stare at the other posters. “They have amazing talents.”

“Interesting,” she turned to face me with a sweet, honest smile.

“Okay, get out of that dress and I might give you one of the jerseys I acquired during my Europe trip,” I winked and she giggled.

“Only if it’s a Ronaldo one.”

Moving to my dresser, I pulled out a drawer with my workout clothes. I had one from Ronaldo when he played for Real Madrid, #7. And I had a Barca one with #10, Messi. These were my favorite souvenirs from my graduation present. My parents invested a lot of money for me to visit the best teams and their cities. It was the most memorable summer of my life. I rarely wore them, only when I was watching games, but imagining Hazel wearing one of them made my cock twitch in anticipation. That was an image I wanted to see very soon.

Hearing a small puff, I looked up. Hazel stood with her back to me, hands covering up her breasts.

“Can I get a shirt?” she asked in a small voice.

I could barely tear my eyes from her figure. Her skin seemed silky as the artificial light of the room shone on it. Her white lace panties hugged her hips perfectly driving my attention to her perfectly rounded and lifted butt. My hand itched, I wanted to touch her body, feel her skin and experience how she felt.

“Aiden?” her voice grew more insecure with every passing second. Her weight shifted to one leg to the other, and she ended up crossing her legs before slowly turning to face me. “A shirt?”

“Fuck,” I muttered as Hazel faced me. She wasn’t shy on wearing tight clothes, so there really wasn’t much that I had to use my imagination for but her body without clothes was a whole different thing. There was a hell of a lot of skin all exposed for me to touch. My gaze roamed over her body and tiny goosebumps raised on her arms just from my look. Satisfaction grew in me as I stepped closer, taking in her panties. High-waisted was never anything I’d find sexy, but it looked amazing on her. Yet, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on them and pull them down her long legs. No matter how sexy it was.

Hazel took a step back.

Her reaction to my advances snapped me out of my mood, as if someone threw a bucket of ice on me. Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed at my face and fear sparkled behind her eyes.

Swallowing hard, I lifted the two jerseys. “Messi or Ronaldo?”

“Is that even a question?” she asked teasingly, but her voice still shook.

I contemplated walking close to her and handing her the shirt, but instead I threw it towards her. Hazel reached out with one arm, while she still kept the other one around her breasts, and quickly turned on her heels. I watched her slip into the jersey wishing my name was printed on the back.

Once the jersey fell over her body, she turned to pick her dress up, squatting down carefully.

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