Page 7 of Penalty for Boarding

Calvin:

You think you made a fool of yourself?

I stare at the message, my pulse racing as I wonder if I can just ignore his question and pretend like I didn't just spill my guts to him in a text. But then the dots start dancing again and another text pops up on the screen.

Have a drink with me.

I stare at my phone again. A huge part of me wants to say yes, to throw caution to the wind and see where this thing with Calvin could go. But the rational side of my brain, the one that's been hurt before and has learned to guard my heart, tells me it's a bad idea.

Me:

I don't know, Calvin. I think it's best if we keep things professional.

Calvin:

We haven’t been professional from the moment we spoke after the game, Olivia, and you know it.

His words hit me like a puck to the chest, leaving me breathless and unable to deny the truth in them. I do know it, and that's what scares me. I just met the man this weekend, and already I feel so connected to him that if I allow him to get too close, he might just become the reason I breathe. I’m not sure I want that. But then again, how can I say no?

Before I can even contemplate a response, the buzzer to my apartment building sounds, making me jump off the couch in surprise. Setting down my phone, I walk over to the intercom, my chest jolting when a great, hulking hockey player is standing in front of the camera, a bottle of wine in his hand.

“What are you doing here, Calvin?” I ask when I hit the talk button.

“Let me up, Olivia. We need to talk face-to-face.”

The intercom crackles as I hesitate, my heart pounding in my ears. Why Calvin Barrett is standing outside my apartment door holding a bottle of wine like some kind of romantic hero from one of my books is beyond me. But here he is, larger than life and impossible to ignore.

How is this my life right now?

I take a deep breath and hold my finger over the unlock button. “All right, Calvin. I'll let you up.” As I hit the button and the buzz sounds to let him in, I close my eyes and wonder what the hell the universe has in store for me. I thought the message was loud and clear when our kiss got interrupted on the sidewalk this morning. But maybe the message was more ‘not in public’ and we should do those things in private? I don’t know. But what I do know is that in the time it takes Calvin to ride theelevator up to my floor, I brush my teeth, scrape my tongue and gargle enough minty freshness to knock a fly off its course. I even run my fingers through my hair and pinch my cheeks for good measure. By the time I hear his heavy footsteps approaching my door, my heart is beating so hard it’s hitting against my skull. I get one calming breath in before he knocks.

CALVIN

Istand outside Olivia's door, barely breathing as I wait for her to answer. The bottle of wine feels heavy in my hand, grounding me in the moment. I don't know what possessed me to seek out her address and come all the way to Granite City tonight, but after our near-kiss this morning and the way she's been avoiding me all day, I knew I couldn't let things stand as they were.

I’m about to knock again when the door opens, and I finally get to set my eyes upon the one thing they crave. Olivia. Her hair is tousled and her cheeks are all flushed. She's wearing a soft, oversized sweater and leggings that I want desperately want to peel away from her soft skin. My dick is already trying to get ahead of itself, so I have to force myself to breathe slow and steady. Which is hard, since she’s so fucking sexy right now.

“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out way rougher than I intend.

“Hey, yourself.” She steps aside, silently inviting me in.

As I enter and look around, her apartment is exactly how I imagined it would be—warm, welcoming, and filled with personal touches that just feel unequivocally…her.

“I, uh, brought wine,” I say, holding up the bottle like a trophy.

Olivia's mouth quirks up in a slight smile. “I can see that.”

She takes the bottle from my hand and gestures toward her kitchen. “Let me find us some glasses.” I watch her move about the marbled space, my eyes dropping to her round ass as she lifts up on her toes and pulls two stemless wine glasses out of a cabinet beside the range hood. She sets them down between us while I open the wine bottle and start pouring.

“Calvin,” she says when I hand her a glass.

“Mmm?” I lift mine to the same level as hers and wait for her to speak.

“What are you doing here?”

I click my glass against hers. “Having a drink with my girl.”

She sucks in a breath. “Your girl? Calvin, I thought I made it clear that we should keep things professional.”

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