Page 50 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Mike, always the smartass, raised an eyebrow. “Physical therapist, huh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

I felt my face heat up. “Come on, man. It’s not like that.”

Trevor joined in, grinning. “I don’t know, Van. The way you’ve been pitching lately, she must have some magic touch.”

I instinctively stepped closer to Taylor. “Alright, guys, that’s enough. Taylor’s a professional and a good friend. Show some respect.”

To my relief, Taylor took it all in stride. She laughed along with them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll ensure Van stays in top form... professionally speaking, of course.”

The guys erupted in laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in, marveling at how easily Taylor fit into this world.

After the meet and greet, we left the stadium and went to my apartment. I couldn’t wait to get there and finally have some peace, just the two of us. As we walked through the front door, Taylor immediately lit up when she saw the space.

“This place is amazing!” she exclaimed, spinning around to take it all in. Her eyes darted from the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic city view, to the sleek modern furniture, and the crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. “How do you live here and not feel you’re on vacation every day?” sheasked, running her hand along the polished marble countertop of the open-concept kitchen.

I chuckled, loving how excited she was. “It’s not bad, huh? But I gotta admit, it’s felt pretty empty without you here.”

Taylor’s eyes softened, and she walked over to where I had laid out a few surprises for her—a baseball jersey with my name and number, and a baseball cap with the Los Angeles Stars logo.

“These are for me?” she asked, her smile widening.

“Of course,” I said, watching her pick up the jersey. “I figured you should have the proper gear if you’re gonna cheer me on from the stands.”

She pulled the jersey over her tee shirt, adjusting it as she laughed. “I love it! I’m gonna wear this every time you play.”

As Taylor stood there in my jersey, the soft fabric draping over her curves, I felt my breath catch in my throat. The sight of her—so at ease in my space, wearing my number—stirred something deep within me. My eyes traced the contours of her face, lingering on the soft smile playing at her lips, the way her eyes sparkled in the warm light of my apartment.

I couldn’t resist any longer. I closed the distance between us in two quick strides, cupping her face in my hands. Her eyes widened in surprise for a split second before fluttering closed as I pressed my lips to hers.

The kiss was electric, filled with all the longing and affection that had built up since her arrival. Taylor’s arms wound around my neck, pulling me closer as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. I could feel her heart racing against my chest, matching my own rhythm. When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, I rested my forehead against hers, savoring the moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at the stadium,” I murmured, my voice husky.

Taylor’s lips curved into a smile. “What took you so long?” she teased, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.

We made ourselves comfortable on the plush living room couch, anticipating our carryout dinner.

Our conversation flowed easily, covering various aspects of our lives. I shared updates about my career in Los Angeles while she discussed her current situation and plans.

“So, how’s the practice coming along?” I asked, genuinely interested in her progress.

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “It’s going well! I’ve got a steady stream of patients from all the neighboring towns, and word of mouth is helping. But...” she hesitated, biting her lip.

“But what?” I prompted gently.

She sighed. “But sometimes I wonder if I’m limiting myself by setting up my practice in Borewood. Don’t get me wrong, I love it there, but...”

“But you’re thinking about bigger opportunities?” I finished for her.

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been looking into some advanced certifications, maybe even taking some specialized courses in sports medicine.”

My heart raced at the implication. “You know, there are some great programs out here in LA,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual.

Taylor’s eyes met mine, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. “I’ve thought about that. But moving to LA... that’s a big step.”

I took her hand in mine. “It is. But you wouldn’t be alone. I’d be here, supporting you every step of the way.”

She squeezed my hand. “I know. And that means everything to me, Van. It’s just... there’s so much to consider.”

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