Page 58 of Shutout
The best I can do for now is give her some time to cool off, and then start a subtle plan of attack. But how do I get her to start seeing me as a guy and not as her friend who puked green slushie in the seventh grade?
Obviously, my brain hates me, and once I recall thatmemory I wince—which makes my face really freaking hurt. I sit down on my bed and toe off my sneakers, removing my bomber jacket at the same time. It’s probably going to take nothing short of a miracle for Liv to look past all my embarrassing moments.
“Yeah, I’m doomed,” I utter in the quiet of my room.
Slowly, I pull the hem of my long-sleeve shirt up and take it off in a civilized way, rather than grabbing a random handful of it and pulling it off. I’m going to have to be a bit careful when doing anything for a while, now that I have three-inch slice on my cheek.
I can’t believe I convinced Liv to come watch my games and got injured basically right away. It’s pretty insignificant and if it hadn’t been because she was so distraught, I’d have stayed to watch the rest of the game and driven myself home.
She’s never going to forgive me for this, though. And that’s going to make it that much harder to make her fall for me, no matter how much she cares about me.
“Stop. You’re not made for thinking, Brooklyn,” I tell myself as I remove my socks and ball them up with the rest of my clothes. I toss them clear across the room and they land in a haphazard heap on my desk chair. “See? You’re a man of action. You’ll act when the time’s right.”
Nodding, I recalibrate myself. Give Liv time and space to cool off. Act like nothing’s amiss. Push the agenda that scars are sexy. And for now, maybe take a nap. That’s as far as my pea brain can think of. The big stuff will have to happen on the fly.
Getting back up, I hook my thumbs around the waistband of my joggers and pull them down before?—
The door opens.
My eyes fly up. Liv stands on the threshold holding up a bag of frozen peas. Her eyes lower. I check myself just in case I forgot to put on any underwear after showering. But no, there’sthe black boxer briefs. Yet, there she is, soaking every inch of my bare skin up with her eyes. She seems particularly into my thighs.
Interesting. Maybe this won’t be as difficult as I feared.
“Are you gonna keep staring?” I bite my lip so I don’t smile. “Or should I just take it all off?”
Her brown eyes snap back up to mine, her glare intensifying. “Why the hell are you undressing?”
“I thought you were on your way home.”
“No, I was trying to get fresh ice for your face but your fridge is disgusting.” A crease forms between her eyebrows the more she talks. “Well, aren’t you going to dress back up?”
If all she needs is a modest amount of nudity to get affected, I’m not going to fold so easily. All I do is pull my joggers back up. Surely she can deal with a naked torso and bare feet, right?
I lower myself back to sit on my bed and paraphrase her question. “Well, aren’t you coming in?” As I lean back with my hands on the mattress, her eyes seem to fixate on my shoulders.
How funny, most girls would lose their marbles at my abs. I wonder if they lost their impact because she already saw them at the library.
Maybe she’s finally realized that I’m teasing her because her eyes narrow. Liv pushes the door shut with her elbow and activates her feet. My heart pounds faster with every step she takes, even though I know she’s not going to suddenly sit on my lap and eat my face. She wouldn’t even do that if I wasn’t injured. To her, I’m still her annoying guy friend.
Her hand rises abruptly and I flinch at the cold against my face. “Here, hold this so I can call an Uber.”
Instead of doing as told, I keep her hand firmly in place. I tilt my head back to look up at her, into her eyes. “Stay a bit longer.”
Liv’s quiet as she observes me, her eyes roaming around myface as if searching for something. But just when I expect her to argue back that she has to go or something, she instead runs the fingers of her free hand through my damp hair. “Damn puppy eyes of yours. You could rob a bank with those.”
Would she get upset if she found out I’m trying to rob her heart?
Well, is it really robbery if I give her mine in return?
Clearing my throat, I pull her hand away from the thawing bag of peas and maneuver back until I lay down on my bed, my head on the pillow closest to the wall. Then I pat the empty expanse beside me and crank up the sad, watery puppy eyes that disarm her.
“Ugh.” She huffs, but she unzips her leather jacket and retraces a few steps to hang it on the backrest of my busy desk chair. I swallow hard as her knee sinks into the mattress, then the other. My bed is a king size for tall people, which means she has to crawl on all fours for a brief stretch to get to the other pillow.
All throughout, my ever helpful brain supplies a fantasy of Liv doing precisely that, but with a lot less clothes.
I smack the pea bag on my face hard enough to hurt. At least it snaps me out of it before I can start openly salivating at her.
We lay on our backs, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. It’s not what I wish we were doing, but at least she’s still here. Her warmth seeps through my arm and I know if I stretch my hand just a bit, maybe even my pinky, I’d touch her hand.
