Page 41 of The Player Penalty
At least she didn’t overhear that last part because she wasn’t invited. Matteo made his interest in her very clear, and that means I’m keeping her away from him.
You know. To protect her.
“Can I take you home?” I ask, cutting her off before she can reach Pete.
“Dad is taking me home.”
“Yes, I’m preventing you from talking to him.” I shift to block her view. “C’mon. It’s a three-hour drive. We both know you’d rather come with me.”
Lily’s loose braids show off her bare shoulders. The cardigan meant to cover them up dangles in her arms. Between that and her incredibly short skirt, I often wonder if she realizes how much skin she displays. Specifically, I wonder if she does it for me. Probably not.
Last night appeased her curiosity, and I’m okay with that. Mostly.
If Pete ever finds out, he’ll slowly torture me until I’m begging for the sweet release of death.
“When can you be ready?” she asks after a short delay.
∞∞∞
Chris Williamson isn’t the first reporter to comment on my discipline this season. Sure, he asks, whereas Pete and Boone make pithy comments, but it’s all the same. The truth is that my compartmentalization skills have improved. I fell asleep thinking about Lily touching my body and woke up to the same. The thoughts turned off at the beginning of the first lap and right back on the moment, I crossed the finish line.
Dinner last night was casual and easy like it always is. It was as if her hand on my dick only a short time earlier had never happened.
I still wonder: was I correct for allowing her to do it, or was I wrong to not ask her to keep going?
“We’re in the home stretch, only thirty more minutes.”
She snorts. “I thought home stretches were measured in laps.”
“Or seconds.”
“We’ll beat my dad home.”
That’s perfect. I won’t suffer him while dropping his daughter off on the front porch. “I’ll walk you in.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to.”
Lily pulls at her scalp. The neat twin braids she sported at the beginning of the trip have fallen victim to her nervous habit. Loose hairs stick up, giving her something of a wild look. “Did we remember my suitcase? It was next to me, and then it wasn’t. My planner is in it.”
“I wheeled it out. If you look behind you, you’ll find it.” Lily twists to check out the Tahoe’s rear cabin, and I turn on the overhead lights for her to see. She sighs with relief. “Feel better?”
“I was thinking about class tomorrow, and then I remembered there was a test, but I wasn’t sure if there was. That’s when I realized it was missing. Thank you for getting it.”
I wheeled it out with her walking beside me. “Does a test tomorrow mean you don’t want a late dinner?”
“Sorry.”
Unless an alternative comes up, I’m going home to a lonely house. “Movie tomorrow?”
“I think so?”
“That means you need to check your planner.”
A small black notebook is the gatekeeper of her life. Every test, appointment, race, flight information, and social engagement goes in there. Lily has shared it with me more than once, and all the social obligations include me.
She pulls at her hair, so I snake our fingers together until our hands loosely intertwine. Her sweet smile is visible in the darkness.
