Page 48 of Drop Shot
“The bottle.” I lift a hand from the water and wiggle my fingers at her. “I’ll open it for you.”
Her lips purse stubbornly. I don’t push further—I know how hard it can be to accept help. I’ve been injured before and having to rely on others is the worst feeling in the world, so if she wants to get it on her own, I won’t stop her, but I am here to help if she needs me.
With a soft exhale, she crosses the tiled floor to me. I remove the top and pass it back to her.
“Thank you,” she says, voice small and eyes downcast to her toes that I notice are painted a soft blue.
“Welcome,” I chirp.
She finishes her routine and brushes her teeth before leaving me in the bathroom alone.
Shockingly, I miss her presence, so I don’t stay submerged in the water much longer. I dry off and pull on a pair of sleep shorts. Normally I wouldn’t bother with them, but I’m not in bed alone.
I brush my teeth before I join her in my bedroom. It’s strange having a woman in my bed. I’ve never had sleepovers with the women I’ve slept with, so it’s a new thing for me.
“I was looking at your schedule,” she says, turning her iPad my way from where she sits criss-cross in the bed. “And?—”
I raise hand to quiet her. “Why are you looking at my schedule? You’re not my assistant anymore. Remember?”
She bites her lip. “I can’t help it. I don’t trust you to keep things straight and since you haven’t hired anyone else…” she trails off.
I climb into bed and reach for her iPad but she’s not giving it up easily. “Jackson can handle my shit in the meantime.”
“But you’re supposed to record a podcast tomorrow.”
“I know.”
She frowns. “You do? You never mentioned it.”
I itch to reach out and smooth the wrinkle between her brow. “Because you’re not my assistant anymore,” I remind her a second time in the past minute.
“This is hard for me,” she admits. “I don’t like you paying me and I’m not doing anything.” She turns the iPad off and lays it on the table beside her. “I’m not … I feel like a freeloader,” she explains, pouty pinky lips turning down in a frown.
“You’re not a freeloader.” She purses her lips, staring me down and saying a million things all without opening her mouth. “Your job title changed. That’s all.”
She smooths her hands down the covers in her lap. “If you ever feel differently tell me. Please.” She looks at me with those big blue eyes. “It won’t hurt my feelings. Promise.”
“I’ll let you know,” I reply, but I know nothing will be changing on my end.
Like we’ve summoned him with our talk, my phone begins to ring, lit up with Jackson’s name.
“Fuck,” I curse. With a groan, I answer my phone. “It’s late. What do you want?”
Silence greets me and then my manager says, “That wasn’t very nice.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m in bed. What is it?”
He sighs and even though I can’t see him I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose and pacing. “You have that podcast tomorrow.”
“I know.” I wonder where he’s going with this. “Why?”
“Take Whimsy with you.”
“For a podcast interview?” I ask stupidly.
He sighs. “Julia wants to interview you both now. She wants to spin it into a more romantic piece—peeling the curtain back on your personal life. This is what we wanted, Elias,” he reminds me of my team’s goal.
I look at Whimsy beside me, her eyes wide and curious. “I’ll ask her.”
