Page 72 of Absolutely Not in Love
“Hi,” he says, a smile stretching across his face. “How was rehearsal?”
I let out a tired groan. “Exhausting. We’re playingDon Juan, and the cello part is so hard and super exposed.”
“I hate that I’m going to miss this concert,” he says. “But at least it’s notDeath and Transfiguration.That’s the best thing Richard Strauss ever wrote.”
“Just put on the album then. I’m going to spend all day tomorrow practicing, and I’m still worried I might have to fake my way through a few tough sections.”
He chuckles, his hands sliding over my shoulders and down my arms. “I’m sure you’ll get it.”
He bends down for a kiss, and I push up on my tiptoes to meet him.
I am a big fan of passionate, fiery kisses that make my blood heat and turn my limbs to liquid jello. But this kind of slow, tender kiss—I like these too. Because there are words in kisses like this one—words that go beyond basic desire.
This kiss doesn’t just sayI want you.It saysI like you.
And right now, that kind of kiss matters too.
When I finally ease away, my lips still tingling with sensation, I lean forward and press my head against Felix’s chest. He wraps his arms around me, practically engulfing me in his embrace. It’s not like I can forget how incredibly enormous he is, but I’m definitely more aware of it in moments like this one. Not that I mind. I could stay here forever. Breathing him in, savoring the sweet and spicy scent of his very expensive cologne.
There must be some sort of magic pheromone thing happening though because Felix doesn’t just smell like cologne. He smells like soft leather sofas and pine trees dotted with snow and warm fires and old books and coffee with cream and safety and happiness and contentment all at the same time.
Because my brain and body are equally tired, we forgo the late movie we were planning to see and wind up on opposite ends of the couch, Copeland’sAppalachian Springplaying softly in the background, each of us with our own book in our laps. Felix is flipping pages at a pretty normal pace, but I’m mostly just pretending to read.
Maybe because I’m so tired. Or maybe because he’s so incredibly distracting.
I really don’t want him to leave tomorrow.
He must sense me staring because he puts down his book and levels me with a questioning look. “What are you thinking over there? Whatever it is, it’s very loud.”
I nudge my toe into his ribs. “You’re prickly when you’re reading.”
He catches my foot and pulls it into his lap, abandoning his book in favor of giving me a foot rub. “Only when I’m interrupted.”
I moan and close my eyes. “Oh my gosh. Please don’t stop. If this is my punishment for interrupting you, you’re never going to read in peace again.”
“That’s quite the sacrifice,” he says as he reaches for my other foot. “What do I get for all the interruptions and foot rubs?”
I sit up a little straighter so I can look into his eyes. “Ummm, how about I take you home to meet my family?”
He looks up, surprise overtaking his expression. “Are you serious?”
I shrug. “I know that’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want you to freak out. And you can absolutely say no. Actually, you maybeshouldsay no, because it’s very possible that if you say yes, you will be exposing yourself to a variety of discomforts and awkward moments.”
He chuckles. “Are you trying to tell me you want me to say no?”
“No, no,” I quickly say. “I really want you to say yes. I just want you to be informed. I don’t want to gaslight you into thinking it will all be sunshine and rainbows.”
“You already told me your family are Appies fans,” he says. “Is that all we’re talking about here?”
Ha. He thinks they’re like normal fans.
“Felix, my dad is going to grill you on all your stats. Dissect every save, every goal you let through in any game you’ve played this season. Mom will probably cry when she meets you. Then she will want to feed you. And hug you. And she will probably ask you to sign every single piece of memorabilia she owns, which is a lot.”
“That’s better than people asking me to sign their boobs,” Felix says dryly. “I get asked that all the time.”
I am momentarily horrified by his confession. I don’t like to think about how many women have hockey player fantasies, so reminders like this one always feel like a punch to the gut. But this is not the time to get hung up on that, so I squash down my jealousy-fueled rage and force my mind back to our conversation.
“The most important thing is that you’re Maddox’s favorite player,” I say. “That’s the real reason I want you to come. Josh told me to get him an Appies hoodie for his birthday, and I will. But if I also bring you? I think he’ll be really excited.”
