Page 62 of Courtside

“Are the decorations okay?”

David had spent a day or two trying to make his apartment look somewhat festive and seasonal. He’d bought the tiniest live tree they’d had at the store, along with some red and gold balls and lights. He’d also bought a few candles that were supposed to smell like a pine forest, and had Christmas music going on his phone.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“The place looks great,” Chuck reassured him, before letting out a low laugh. “You need to chill out.”

“I am chill!” Of course David shouted in the least-chill way possible right as someone knocked on the door.

Chuck’s laughs rang out from the kitchen as he walked to the front door.

“Jesus,” David muttered, running a hand through his hair. He still wasn’t used to the fact that he could wake up in the morning and not fight a losing battle to tame his hair into submission. “Get your shit together.”

He opened the door.

“Merry — holy shit.”

Sage stood on his doorstep, looking like something out of a personalized David Hughes Christmas fantasy.

Her hair was pulled back from her face in one of those braids that started on the top of her head and then went all the way down her back. Something sparkly was brushed onto her eyelids, making the green of her eyes shine like the color was something living.

She wore a silky red dress that left most of her bare legs exposed, and when he glanced down, he almost choked. There was no missing the two tight buds of her nipples pressed against the red fabric, and he felt the heat of arousal flare low in his belly. A red and orange flannel shirt hung open on her shoulders, andof courseshe was wearing her Nikes.

Of course she was.

“Hi,” she said, almost hesitantly.

“You look beautiful.” The words spilled from him before he could remember that those were the thoughts he was supposed to keep to himself.

She held his gaze even as her cheeks flushed and she smiled. “You look pretty beautiful yourself, Coach.”

David realized he was still posted up in the middle of the doorway like some sort of hulking bouncer, and shuffled to the side to let Sage in. “Please come in.”

Sage carried at least two of those cloth reusable grocery bags, and she paused only to toe off her shoes before carrying them to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Chuck said, waving from where he stood behind the counter. “You must be Sage.”

“And you must be Chuck,” she replied, going to join him in the kitchen. “Swimming coach, right?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you,” Chuck said. “I should thank you, you know.”

Sage had already started unloading her bags and making herself at home. David hovered just outside the kitchen, unsure of how he was supposed to help. “And why’s that,” she asked.

“Thanks to you, this idiot has stopped showing up at my house every other day with groceries.”

“Hey!” David protested. “You like it when I bring you groceries.”

Chuck rolled his eyes as he tossed his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “I like it when you come to hang out, Hughes. I just don’t know how to handle it when you bring a year’s supply of toilet paper.”

“That was once! You’d mentioned you were almost out.”

“Dude, we’re over thirty. I can mention that I need something without you jumping onto your white horse to save me from potential bathroom disasters.”

“So you’re saying you want me to stop bringing you olives?”

Chuck’s eyes snapped up. “No. You can keep bringing the olives.”

“I like this guy,” Sage commented, obviously amused, as she rummaged through the cabinets.

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