Page 22 of O Goalie Night
FOSTER
It’s after two in the morning on Sunday when I silently enter my house. It’s always good to be home after a string of away games and I’m particularly eager to get back tonight.
I tell myself that it’s because I'm looking forward to relaxing and getting back to my routine, but the real reason I’m so happy to come home is my new roommate.
I’ve never had a house guest. Sure, a few times Ben and Will came over and crashed after one too many beers, but this is different.
Beth has told me that she’s fine and has everything she needs, but I’ll feel better seeing her and knowing that she’s settled.
Her brother made such a fuss about me letting her stay until the holidays. Forget just being his best friend, this one gesture made me the greatest man that ever walked the Earth. He all but promised to name the first child Valentina bears him after me.
I’m not sure what the big deal is. It’s not like having her here inconveniences me in any way. Besides, I didn’tdo it for him; I did it for Beth. Her texts have been the highlight of my week, including my shutout in Florida.
Setting my suitcase down in the foyer, I slip out of my shoes before treading into the living room. I survey the dark space. It looks exactly the same as it did when I left a week ago, but it feels different.
I stifle a yawn. The post-game adrenaline has worn off and I am ready to get reacquainted with my bed. Making as little noise as possible, I walk down the hallway past Beth’s room. Just as I reach my bedroom, the door to hers opens.
Jesus.
All the air leaves my body as my eyes greedily take her in. She’s wearing a t-shirt that falls at her mid-thigh showing off long, toned legs. Two pert and perky nipples are visible through the thin cotton. Her long hair is mussed, making me wish more than anything I’d been responsible for that.
“Hi. You’re back,” she says in a hushed voice. A deep pillow creese is visible on her cheek as she gives me a sleepy smile and makes my heart thud.
I don’t move. I don’t even blink because that would mean losing sight of her and that is out of the question.
Devastating. The woman is absolutely devastating.
And Ben’s sister. In other words, completely off limits.
“Hey.” My voice cracks as I answer. Probably because my mouth has gone bone dry at the sight of her. “It’s late. You should get back to bed.”
She brings a hand up to cover her yawning mouth and her t-shirt raises another inch higher on her pale thighs. “Okay. I’m glad you’re back.” She gives me a little wave,her eyes barely open, before retreating back into her room and closing a door.
I lie in bed for a long time making a mental list of all the reasons I can’t and won’t act on this attraction. Eventually, I drift off thinking about messy hair and whiskey eyes.
Morning comes,like it always does and I’m shocked when I look at my phone and see it’s after ten. Sure, I was up later than usual convincing myself that sleeping with my best friend’s sister is a terrible idea, but still. My internal clock rarely lets me sleep past eight regardless of what time I go to bed. At least it’s Sunday and I’ve got nowhere to be.
After throwing some clothes on, I make my way to my kitchen to brew coffee, giving myself a pep talk along the way.
My reaction to Beth appearing like a vision last night was due to a combination of exhaustion and not getting laid in months. My body would have reacted the same way to any attractive woman standing half-naked in my dimly lit hallway.
Maybe it’s time I take Austin up on his frequent offers to be my wingman the next time we’re on the road for a long stretch. A one-night stand really doesn’t appeal to me like it used to, but it might be the reset I need.
As I walk downstairs, I hear music coming from below and I frown as I recognize the familiar melody.
When I come around the corner, I freeze mid-step at the sight of Beth dancing in my kitchen. At least, that’swhat I think she’s doing. Her limbs flail wildly, completely out of sync with the rhythm of the song as she quietly sings along.
She doesn’t notice my presence. At least, I can’t imagine she does the way she’s moving. She’s stringing together so many combinations of different moves it’s almost as though she’s having some sort of a fit.
I mean, wow. She is a terrible dancer.
I have to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Because not only is she dancing like no one’s watching in her oversized sweatshirt, tights, and ridiculous slipper socks, she’s doing it to the worst Christmas song of all time.
When she starts to strum an imaginary guitar, my resolve breaks and I laugh.
At the sound, Beth spins around to face me, hitting her elbow hard on the refrigerator door. Her face distorts with pain as she winces and grabs her arm. My laughter forgotten, I rush to her side, reaching forward, but stopping before I touch her.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.”
