Page 20 of Hot Route
I huff a breath, knowing she won’t shut up until I give her something to keep her warm at night. “Okay,fine,” I relent. “It’s huge.”
She squints before taking a large sip of what has to be her fourth glass of wine. “How big are we talking?”
I may as well lean into this because I really am going to need her advice if I want to get my mind straight before I head back to Boston. “You remember that pool party in ninth grade whereJulian Carmichael’s older brother showed up wasted and his wang fell out of the leg hole of his trunks?”
She sits up straight, riveted. “Yeah.”
“Bigger than that.”
She gasps. “Stop it right now. Bigger than ‘Big Dick Nick Carmichael’?”
I take my time swallowing my wine. “Yup.”
She sits back, speechless before slamming the remaining wine in her glass. “Thank you very much for that Girl Dinner. I will be eating well this evening.”
Now that she’s satisfied, I turn the conversation into a more serious direction. “I need some advice.”
Just like that, she flips a switch and listens intently when I tell her everything. From Sarah getting engaged to Blaze asking me to move in with him. I’ve only given her bits and pieces during our phone calls, so she listens carefully, collecting each puzzle piece I give her. Hopefully the picture they make is clearer for her than it is for me.
“So,” she begins, “I know you don’t think he could possibly see you in a romantic way, but I honestly believe that you’re wrong. You’re fucking gorgeous, have an incredible body, and you’re the kindest person I know. Any guy, no matter how rich or famous, would be lucky to have you, Mads. So, let’s just jot that down, ‘kay? I don’t want to hear any more talk about him being able to do better. Got me?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “But even so. Let’s just say we’re living in a universe where Blaze Beckham wants me. He’s my boss. I don’t make enough at my internship to pay my student loans, car insurance, phone bill, and all the other things I’m responsible for every month. I can’t screw up this job with Blaze or there’s no way I’d be able to continue going for the job with Tailgate. He pays me well and now he’s letting me live in his home, rent-free. Blurring the lines between us could ruin everything I’ve workedfor my whole life.” I look at her with pleading eyes. “What do I do?”
Dia takes a moment to think before she replies. “I hear you. And I know how important your career is to you. You’re just going to have to keep your eye on the prize. There’s no reason you can’t have a friendship with Blaze. You’re both adults who can be playful with each other and not have it turn into anything more. That’s a pretty normal thing for two roommates. Go back there, act totally natural, and remember the boundaries you’ve set for yourself. Keep your head on straight and your heart out of it. It’s only a little while longer, then you can move out and stand on your own two feet. Things will be a lot clearer for you then.”
I smile at her, feeling a million pounds lighter knowing she’s always on my side. How she turned out to be so wise and loyal when her parents were anything but is something I’ll never understand. I hope that one day, a man will come along and give Dia all the love she should’ve had her whole life.
“I don’t deserve you,” I tell her for the hundredth time since I’ve known her.
“I know,” she laughs, bringing me into a hug. “Now that we’ve figured that out, tell me more about this monster cock.”
EIGHTEEN
BLAZE
There’snothing worse as a professional athlete than an off game. I had five dropped passes today. I haven’t had five dropped passes in my entire professional career before this game. How we pulled out a win against the Dallas Sharpshooters is a mystery to me when I played the way I did. Yet, for some reason, Tanner kept giving me chances. He targeted me consistently all game long, even when I had given him every reason to back off and start utilizing the other receivers. The game winning touchdown I scored on a quick slant is the only reason I’m not currently in a fetal position under my locker bench, crying like a little bitch.
But still, it sucks balls. Big ones. And it has me in a funk.
As I pull up the driveway, I notice that Mads’ car is in the driveway. The thing is a literal shit box. I wish she’d let me buy her a new one, but I know better than to even offer. She would never accept such an extravagant gift. The fact that she drove it from Boston to Chicago and back to visit her parents this weekend has me ready toaccidentallyspill some sugar directly into her gas tank, so she has no choice but to never drive it again.
Seriously, though.“Hey, Siri. Add sugar to my shopping list.”
I pull past her car and into the attached garage, breathing a sigh of relief that she’s home safe and under the same roof as me again. I have increasingly become a simp for this girl the more time we’ve spent together. She’s everything I want. If I brought Mads to meet my parents, I bet you my mom would have my Nana’s engagement ring shoved into my pocket to propose with before I even got both of Mads’ feet into her house.
I allow myself to daydream about what it would be like to slide a rock on her hand and ask her to let me love her forever. To fuck her and hold her every morning. To watch her waddle through the house, belly swollen with my baby.
Fuck. That escalated quickly.
I shake my head, the impossible future fading away as quickly as it came as I make my way into the door connecting the garage to the laundry room. Setting my bag down, I hear the telltale sign of Mads being on a cleaning rampage. Justin Bieber’s Confident blares through the kitchen speaker as I round the corner, the most domestic scene coming into view and making me forget about my dropped passes and shitty game.
Mads stands in front of the refrigerator, digging through the crisper. The cupboard containing the trash compactor is wide open. Her back is to me, which I’m thankful for because there’s nowhere else in this world I want to be other than right here watching my crazy, adorable assistant go ham on the rotten vegetables in my fridge. Grabbing a head of lettuce, she yells “Kobe!” before sending it in a perfect arc toward the trash can. I laugh quietly as she raises her arms and shakes her cute little ass along to the beat when she drains the shot.
She returns to the drawer for more bad vegetables, twerking as she leans forward. My dick twitches in my pants as her t-shirt rides up, revealing her extremely short might-as-well-be-underwear spandex shorts. What I wouldn’t give to reach out and take a handful of her tight ass.
I watch her for several more minutes and the music fades into her favorite song. You’re Perfect, I Hate It by Mickey Valen fills the room and she slows her movements to match the tempo. Holy fuck, I’m hard. Like, fully hard watching her dance, the lyrics resonating in my head as my feet move me toward her. The faster part of the song hits just as I reach out for her elbow, spinning her around and into my arms. Once the initial shock wears off, a big smile covers her face as she wraps her arms around my neck and moves with me.
Laughing, I grab her hand and spin her. This gives me an opportunity to pull her back in, this time wrapping my arm around her waist even tighter than before. We’re both laughing into the next song, neither of us stopping or loosening our grips on one another as her upbeat playlist goes on. We dance and laugh for the next few minutes, all the stress and worry about the game leaving me like a popsicle melting in the sunlight of her smile.
