Page 33 of False Start
I place my hand on his arm to ease his worry. “I’m okay. Let’s get you out of the cold.”
I don’t miss the fact that he doesn’t throw his arm around my shoulders like he usually does when we’re walking beside each other. I don’t know why it took him pulling away for me to realize how much things like his touch mean to me.
Once we’re inside the home, he leads me through a foyer, living area, and then into a large open kitchen with an island in the middle. “Let me throw a shirt and shoes on,” he says, and I almost object to it but end up saying nothing. When he returns, his hair is brushed, and I mourn the loss of his sexy bed head. He holds his phone up. “I just saw your call. I crashed after practice.”
“I know you must’ve been exhausted.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve waited until I talked to you and made sure you were doing okay before I passed out. I didn’t mean to go to sleep. I called it resting my eyes,” he says, and we both chuckle.
“Oh, you don’t have to call and check on me.”
He casts a frown in my direction. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess you wanted to take a step back, so things changed and…”
“Whoa. I don’twantto take a step back. Fuck, Zhanna. It took everything I had not to text you all day. Fighting it wore me out more than watching film did. I don’t like not talking to you. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you what you wanted.”
“And what do you think I want? I didn’t have time to respond to you giving me distance. My grandmother was dying, and we had to go upstairs in the middle of our conversation. I’ve had a lot to process since Charity showed up yesterday morning. And then today…today you didn’t talk to me during film or after practice, and…” I bite my lip unsure of my next words. I’m winging this by the heart I’m wearing on my sleeve.
Bryant takes a few small steps toward me and closes the gap between us. “And you thought I’d moved on?”
I look down at my shoes, afraid to say it out loud. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d pushed you away for good.”
“Z, look at me, baby.” He tucks his hand underneath my chin and encourages me to face him. His green eyes are full of compassion as he stares deeply into me. “You didn’t push me away. I’m afraid of being the one to push you away by crowding you and pushing you faster than you’re ready to go.”
“I want the dance,” I say, and I’m met with confusion. I forget the lyrics and fumble. “Something about wanting the pain and the dance. Or is it not wanting the pain, but wanting the dance? Shit, I forget which.”
He presses his lips into a thin line as he tries not to laugh. “Babe, what are you talking about?”
“The Garth Brooks song. My mom sent it to me.” I wave it off. “The song is calledThe Dance.”
Two dimples make an appearance. “Yeah, babe, I know the song.”
“So that’s what I want.”
A bark of laughter leaves him. “Forgive me for being obtuse, but you’ll have to be a little more explicit about what you want.”
I bite my lip, hoping putting myself out there will suddenly become easier. “You. I just want you.”
The right side of his mouth curves up into half a smile. “Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
“Yeah?”
“Baby, as soon as I saw you standing across the fire, I knew I had to talk to you.”
I cringe. “I called you ‘a chicken shit’.”
“You didn’t kiss my ass. You didn’t throw yourself at me, and as hard as it was to hear, you told me the truth about my game. You immediately had my respect because you treated me like I’m a person instead of a stat. And what can I say? I’m strangely turned on by your insults.”
I get tickled with him. “There’s plenty more where it came from.”
Bryant tucks my hair behind my ear and then touches his palm to my cheek. “I’d like to look forward to hearing them each and every day.”
“Every day?”
He leans in closer, so close that his breath whispers across my lips. “Every fucking one.”
“Will you hurry up and kiss me? The anticipation is killing me.”
