Page 72 of Playing for Keeps
I nod and find an action film. Probably not her top pick, but I can’t handle anything romantic right now, not with the way I’m feeling.
We sit in silence as the movie plays. Twenty minutes pass, and still neither of us says a word.
“Should I change?” Ivy asks suddenly, her voice tentative. “You’ve been acting kind of weird since I came out in the jersey. Maybe I should’ve waited to wear it at home.”
She starts to rise, but I instinctively reach out and catch her hand.
“No, don’t,” I say quietly. I sigh, dragging my free hand through my hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to act weird. It’s just… I’ve never had someone wear my jersey before.” I pause, shaking my head. “I know that probably sounds ridiculous.”
She frowns, confused. “But Ash wears your jersey.”
“Ash is my sister. That’s not even close to the same thing.”
She pauses, clearly not sure whether to stay or go. Her fingers are in mine, but I can see the uncertainty in her face. I keep my grip, gentle but firm. I’m not letting her walk away, not over something like this.
“You wearing my number…” I trail off, shaking my head with a quiet laugh. “It just threw me, that’s all. Wasn’t expecting it to hit me like that.”
Her brow creases, and she studies me like she’s trying to read between the lines. I hold her gaze, doing my best to keep everything buried that I don’t trust myself to say.
“I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” she says, her voice quiet. “I just thought… I don’t know. You said I could have it, and I guess I thought it’d be fun.”
“It is,” I say quickly, cutting her off before she talks herself out of it. “It looks good on you.Reallygood.”
Her lips curve into a small smile, and she visibly relaxes, slowly sitting down next to me. I don’t let go of her hand until she’s settled.
We’re silent for a beat, just the hum of the TV in the background. I could say something, make a joke or play down what I’ve said, but I don’t, letting the silence hang over us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Eventually, she leans back into the cushions, a little closer than before, her thigh brushing mine.
“I really do like this jersey,” she says, tugging at the hem.
I nod, my eyes fixed on the screen, even though I haven’t followed the plot from the start. “Yeah. Looks better on you than me.”
She laughs quietly, and that sound alone makes the tension in my chest ease just a little.
We turn our attention back to the movie. Well, I pretend to. I keep telling myself to stop glancing at her, but my resolve’s pretty much shot. Subtlety isn’t exactly my strong suit right now, and I’m not sure if she’s noticed. She probably has.
I try to focus my eyes on the screen, but ten minutes later, I glance her way again, and this time, I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
She’s fast asleep.
And now, I really can’t look away. Her face is completely free of makeup with her long, dark lashes resting against her cheeks. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and her breathing is slow and even. There’s something about the way she looks, so at ease and like she fits perfectly here, that makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
Knowing I can’t just sit here all night watching her sleep, as tempting as it is, I slowly rise from the sofa. With a quiet sigh, I turn off the TV, lock up, and make my way back to where she’s still curled up, completely out. For a moment, I consider waking her, but she looks so peaceful that I can’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I lean down and scoop her into my arms. She stirs briefly, her head dropping to my shoulder, but she doesn’t wake. The faint scent of her perfume wraps around me, and I hold her a little tighter than I probably should. I take my time crossing the apartment, not in any rush to let her go.
I consider, just for a second, taking her to my bed, just to hold her, nothing more. I’ve never wanted something like that with anyone before. I’ve never felt the urge to share my space or my bed without expecting anything in return. Just being close would be enough.
And somehow, that doesn’t scare me.
If anything, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Pushing open her bedroom door, I walk across the room, and with one hand, pull the comforter back. I lower her onto the bed and cover her up. Her dark hair splays out on the crisp white pillow, and my hand reaches out to push a stray piece of hair off her face. I sigh quietly. She looks so beautiful. It’s almost painful to leave her here and walk out, but I know I have to. Leaning down, I brush a kiss on her forehead.
“Night, Ivy,” I whisper. “Sleep tight.”
It takes everything in me to turn and leave the room. I close the door softly behind me and head to my own, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to sleep knowing she’s right next door, curled up in my jersey.
