Page 59 of The Import Slot
“Damn, I’ll get you my jersey next time,” I say, and before I can stop myself, I kiss her. She tastes like home, and I feel her melt into me. “You know you’re perfect, right?” I ask, thinking about what Danny said as she nuzzles my neck.
“Where’s this come from?”
“Just wanted you to know.”
“I’m not, but I appreciate your vote,” she says.
“You are to me,” I say, pulling back and looking at her. “Jen, you know I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, words lost in my throat.
“But—” she says.
“Well, I know we spoke before about being friends because after the season—” I start, but she puts her fingers on my lips to silence me. It’s a relief because I don’t know what I was planning to say.
“Ry, I know you can’t promise me anything. Don’t worry, but I also can’t keep away from you, but that’s on me, not on you,” she says.
“Bu–”
“Look, we’ll worry about it if we get that far. You haven’t seen me naked yet; you could run a mile,” she says.
“I won’t be running anywhere,” I say.
“Let’s not worry about it. Let’s just have fun, no labels, no expectations,” she says, almost bowling me over. I wait for the relief to wash over me, but it doesn’t. In fact, I feel slightly annoyed, but why I can’t say.
“I have news anyway,” she says.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Vicky lives in the building next to yours, and she has a room to rent, so I’ll be moving in with her. It’s available now, so I just need to sort out moving my stuff and getting a new bed and all that.”
“That’s great news. Morning runs can resume!” I tease. But she looks serious when she says she’d already planned on it.
“Preston. Get your ass back in here.” Coach swings the door to the back entrance open, waving his clipboard. He gives Jen a wave and gives me a beckoning finger.
I steal a kiss before jogging back inside. When I’m back in the dressing room, my phone vibrates again.
Jen:Remember to put boxers on.
Chapter 17
Jenna
Vicky’sapartmentisonthe second floor.From my window, I can see Ryan’s car and funnily enough, Becca’s car when she probably thinks no one can. She always parks toward the back of the lot, and under a tree if the spot is available, but never in the same row as Danny’s car. It’s hilarious, really.
Ryan drove me home from work today as he had a late practice, and he’s offered to help me put together a flat-pack wardrobe I’ve had delivered from IKEA.
“I can take all my crap out of your room once this is up,” I tell him.
He’s on his knees, surrounded by all the pieces, as he flicks through the instruction booklet.
“You should have got one that’s already constructed,” he says, confused as he flicks between steps two and three.
“We’re not all millionaires,” I say. He rolls his eyes at me. “Besides, you offered. Shall I call Johnny?” I thought of asking Danny but then realised he’s as useless as a chocolate teapot with DIY. I asked him to put a bookshelf together for me once, and we never made it work.
“No way. Pass me that screwdriver,” he says, pointing to a box of tools he’s borrowed from Johnny. “Tell me about your first week at work. It feels like I’ve hardly seen you.”
I tell him about the perfect view of the ice from my desk and how Vicky has shown me where her media share is. “I had a quick snoop in your folder, and I’m impressed.”
“Impressed at what?” he says, looking up at me.
