Safe Cages (Excerpt)
© Copyright 2018 Michelle Bolanger All Rights Reserved
Chapter 1
SAMUEL
I glanced around the crowded hotel lobby looking for a quiet place to answer the phone. I thumbed the screen and headed for the front doors.
“Hey. Can you hold on a sec?” I said, barely able to hear my best friend’s reply over the din of voices. “I’m going outside.”
The glass doors swished aside, and I held my jacket open to catch more of the breeze. I was glad for the excuse to slip away. The air inside the building was stifling enough but added to the suit and tie, it had grown almost unbearable. Highway traffic on the other side of the tall barrier rushed past in a steady hum, but it was still far quieter, and cooler, than inside.
“Sorry about that.” I stepped around an elderly couple who were being helped from their car by a porter and moved a little way down the sidewalk. “This place is packed.”
Michael chuckled. “It sounds like one heck of a party. You must be celebrating that promotion in style.”
“Hardly,” I replied. “There are at least four conventions going on here today. Ours is nothing.”
“Well, congratulations.” The connection crackled, and I didn’t catch his next words.
“What? I missed that.”
“You miss me?” he asked.
“I don’t miss your ego.” I laughed it off, but the heat in my cheeks reminded me how much I did miss seeing him. The two of us had been best friends since we were eight years old, but when we got into junior high, my feelings for him became…confusing.
The phone cracked again, but I heard him this time. “I’m getting ready for a run with the team. I’ll still see you next month? The new job will give you the time off, right?” He was in Washington state, and I was looking forward to attending his final game of the season next month.
I smiled a little. “Yes. I confirmed it before I accepted the position. I’ll be there to hold your hand.”
“Is that a promise?” The suggestive tone made my stomach tighten.
“It’s a threat,” I quipped. “Enjoy your run.”
We ended the call, and I headed back inside. I punched the up button for the elevator and tugged at my tie. I was ready to change out of the suit and settle in to read for the rest of the night.
“Sam Jones?” I turned at a female voice and froze.
Though she sounded vaguely familiar, I was struck silent by her uncanny resemblance to Michael. The shape of their faces and the line of their noses were nearly identical. Her hair was as black as his, and she wore it loosely woven into a style that left soft strands framing her face and neck. A dark red dress exposed well-defined shoulders and toned arms, and the knee length skirt did little to hide legs that seemed to go on forever. When my gaze finally made it back to her face, her pale eyes were full of humor that also reminded me of him. I struggled to rein in my physical reaction while I tried desperately to come up with her name.
“Sam Jones. What are you doing in Cincinnati?” The tilt of her head and the barely there southern twang brought it to my lips.
“Tasha?” I took a step back and shook my head. “Tasha Young?”
She grinned impishly. “You do remember!”
“I do. You look…different.” I immediately regretted my choice of words, but the last time I saw her was during her freshman year of college almost four years ago. A group of us had been assigned to a research project and had all become friends. I remembered her as pretty, but also a shy, slightly overweight girl with short auburn hair. I wanted to apologize for being rude, but the flush of red that swept up her collarbones toward her neck stopped my words.
“I’m a fitness trainer now.” She gave a half curtsy as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
My whole body came to attention when she lifted her gaze to mine. How had I never noticed her eyes were the exact shade of gray as Michael’s? My physical reaction to the comparison should have been a warning, but I was too stunned to pay attention.
“You look great,” she said.
“Thank you.” My voice came out rough, and I cleared my throat. “To answer your question, I’m here for a business conference.”
“That’s where all the suits came from.” She laughed and gestured toward the bar. “My soon to be sister-in-law and her other bridesmaids are certainly enjoying the view.”
I rocked back on my heels. “And you’re not?”
The red along her neck was back as she swept an appreciative gaze over me. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Ah.” Conversation died, and we stood awkwardly near the elevators. It felt like minutes but was probably only a few seconds. I blew out a breath and hooked a thumb toward the gleaming steel doors.
“I was planning to head to my room to read for the rest of the night, do you need to get back to your party?” I tensed when her lips tightened.
“Actually, I was going to do the same thing. My idea of partying is different than theirs.” She looked almost embarrassed. “They probably won’t know I’m gone.”
“I’m sorry.” On the wall opposite the elevators was a map of the hotel, and it looked like there was another, smaller restaurant on the other side of the building. “I haven’t eaten yet.” I offered my arm. “Would you like to join me?”
She glanced toward the bar one more time, then slipped her hand into the bend of my elbow. “Sure.”
The other restaurant turned out to be a nearly empty piano bar. We were seated at a table near the covered grand piano.
“He doesn’t start to play until ten on Friday nights.” The waitress handed us single page menus. “We have a DJ who takes requests from seven to ten. Mostly jazz or classical. If you like to dance, the floor is on the other side of the piano.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“My pleasure.” She smiled at each of us. “Can I get you anything from the bar?”
“Just water with lemon for me,” Tasha said.
“I’ll have the same,” I echoed.
“All right.” The waitress looked mildly annoyed but managed to keep her smile in place. “I’ll be right back for your order.”
The uncomfortable silence fell again as Tasha read over the menu. I tried not to be obvious as I studied her. She was gorgeous. Aside from the color and shape of her eyes, the lines of her face were startling in their resemblance to Michael. They could easily be siblings. It had been a long time since a woman caught my attention, and the reason Tasha did should have been obvious, but my brain was no longer in charge of my thoughts. When the waitress returned, I ordered a grilled chicken something, and Tasha ordered a salad.
With the menus gone and nothing to occupy our attention besides each other, the silence grew even more awkward.
“You said you were a fitness trainer.” I folded my hands on the table. “What does that mean?”
“I teach yoga, indoor cycling, and cross training. I just signed on my first three personal training clients.” Her face brightened with obvious excitement. “I know how hard it was for me to find a healthy way to stay active that I wanted to stick with, and that’s what I help people do.”
We talked about her plans for a studio of her own for at least an hour, and she congratulated me on my promotion. We finished our meal, and I noted the music the DJ was playing had shifted, filling the dance floor with couples. I ticked my head toward them.
“You might have to lead, but, would you like to dance?” I held my breath, half expecting her to say no.
“I would like that.”
I pushed my chair back and held out a hand as she stood. In her heels, we were nearly the same height. I fleetingly wondered what it would be like to dance with Michael and was surprised by the heat that raced through me at the thought. My hand tightened on Tasha’s, and I was brought back to the present when she returned the pressure.
“Wow,” I said as we found a spot on the dance floor and I turned to face her. “You really are strong.”
I slid my free hand around her waist and drew her closer, careful to keep my fingers on the smooth fabric between the skin exposed by the low back of the dress and the curves under her skirt. When her hand slid under the lapel of my jacket and over my shoulder, I swore I could feel the heat of her palm through the material.
We swayed gently to the music, and the awkwardness from the table shifted in a way that made the base of my spine tingle. Up close, her gray irises were piercingly bright, and neither of us could look away. The songs rolled over us, and with each tune, our bodies melded closer until I had both hands on her hips and her arms were wrapped lightly around my neck. My fingers splayed over her firm curves, and my thumbs found a rhythm back and forth over her hip bones.
The final inches of distance between us disappeared when she tucked her nose under my chin and our bodies aligned perfectly. I lowered my cheek to her hair, then resisted a groan when her lips brushed my throat.
“You smell amazing,” she said and nuzzled just below my ear.
The leash on my control was wearing dangerously thin. I cupped the back of her neck and lifted her chin to try to gauge what she was thinking. Her eyes were locked on my mouth, and when she moistened her lips with a swipe of her tongue, I leaned in.
She didn’t resist the kiss, but her tremble made me back off. Sure I had done the worst thing possible, I eased away to look into her eyes. I swallowed at the desire edging them with silver.
“Sorry. I should have asked first,” I said softly.
Her fingers grazed my cheek. “I would have said yes.”
Our lips met again, and she opened immediately when I deepened the kiss. I pulled her closer and caressed the smooth skin of her back. Her fingers sent tingles of sparks across my shoulders as she carded them through my hair. When the music changed to something more upbeat, we reluctantly separated and shared a sheepish smile as we returned to the table. I paid the bill, then tucked her arm in mine to escort her back to her friends.
When we reached the lobby, she tugged me to a stop at the elevators.
“I think I would rather go to my room.” She twisted the delicate watch on her wrist to check the time. “They will be out all night, and I’m not really interested.”
“I’ll walk you up.” My brain told me it was a bad idea. Logically, I should have seen her into the elevator and taken the next one to my own room. The hotel was safe enough for her to get to her room on her own.
But my body had other suggestions.
She kept hold of my hand as we stepped inside, and I watched her push the button for the fourth floor. My floor. My heart was pounding, and the rest of me was on fire as her thumb slid back and forth over my palm. The doors opened, and I hesitated. She didn’t know I was on this floor. I could have said goodnight, ridden the elevator to the next stop, and then come back.
My hormones won that battle, too. We stepped into the hall.
“What room are you in?” I asked.
“438.” She pulled the keycard from her black clutch, and like a puppy, I followed her to the room directly across the hall from mine.
I tucked my hands into my pockets as she unlocked the door. Cool air scented with a sweet feminine tang flowed through the opening, and when she turned to me with an invitation in her eyes, I should have run.
****
Hours later, Tasha didn’t wake when I swung my feet over the side of the bed. My stomach churned at what I was about to do, and the back of my mouth filled with disgust. Quickly and quietly, I rose, and in the dim light, I found my clothes and dressed enough to make the walk across the hall to my room. My eyes fell on her red dress, still on the floor as if she had just stepped out of it. I was glad I didn’t have to go far. Otherwise, I was going to wake her by throwing up in her bathroom.
With my shoes, tie, and suit coat in one hand, I glanced back. Tasha was facing away from me, her glossy black hair in a loose braid and tucked under her neck. Her shoulders rose and fell softly as she slept.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, then I slipped into the hall and closed the door softly.
Three steps and I was inside my room. Four more and I was bent over the toilet. Once the cramping stopped, I broke open the courtesy bottle of mouthwash and purged the bitterness from my mouth. I washed my face and stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. I told myself I wasn’t the first or last person to have a one night stand, and I should be thankful she wasn’t a stranger. I reminded myself I would never see her again, and no one besides the two of us would ever need to know it happened.
None of it brought any comfort as I hurriedly packed my overnight case. Every time I blinked, a pair of jealous, pale gray eyes haunted me, but they weren’t Tasha’s.
I hesitated at the bathroom door to swallow back another round of nausea before I checked the hallway through the peephole. Then I fled the hotel.
Chapter 2
MICHAEL
From a corner table inside a rented sports bar, I watched my teammates down shots and chug beer. With all of the laughter and clear plastic wine glasses full of cheap champagne being passed around, you would think we’d already won the championship. But, making the playoffs for the first time in fifty years was a good enough reason to start the celebration early.
I sipped the beer one of them insisted I have and scowled at the bitter flavor. I set the mug aside as David Williams, a sports reporter for my hometown newspaper, took a seat next to me.
“Seems a little odd that the star of the team isn’t celebrating.” He slid a tall glass half full of an amber liquid toward me. “I can’t stand beer either. Rum and Coke. Heavy on the Coke.” He smiled and tipped his in my direction.
David had interviewed me before for the Canberry Sentinel. He’d covered my high school’s championship and had been sent out this time to get the exclusive if I got any contract offers. There had been one offer, but I wasn’t taking it.
When I accepted the full ride from Washington State, being away from home for four years seemed like a great idea. I thought it would give me the time and distance I needed to get my feelings under control. I was wrong. Leaving the constant scrutiny of my parents was exactly what I needed, but being separated from my best friend, Sam, turned out to be more complicated.
I took a tentative sip of the drink, relieved to find it was mostly cola. Other than one or two attempts to drink beer, I’d never had alcohol. If there was anything I was thankful for from my parents’ strict Christian morals, it was that I had managed to get through college without ever being drunk.
“Have you decided where you’re going?” David asked casually.
“I’m keeping my options open.” I ran a thumb and finger up and down the condensation on the glass. “For now, I’m just focusing on the championship.”
“Dedicated to the core.” He said, and I noted the way his gaze followed the movement of my fingers. He lifted his eyes to mine, and the look in them gave me the distinct feeling he was searching for more than a story for the paper.
Uh oh. I pulled my hand back.
I have no idea how he’d figured it out, but he was one of a handful of people who knew I was gay.
That part of my parents’ religion had made my life a living hell and was one of the major reasons I was hundreds of miles away. I was nine when I told my dad. I was confused, and I trusted him to help me figure it out. I gritted my teeth and took a larger swig of the drink. Instead, he put me in counseling that made me feel like a deviant for most of my teenage years. The only thing worse, was the fact that my straight best-friend was the star of most of my fantasies. That was the other reason I was far from home.
“Did I say something wrong?” David asked. “You look like I just kicked your dog.”
“Nah.” I forced a smile. “Thank you for the drink.”
When his attention returned to the rest of the room, I studied him. His sandy blond hair was neatly styled just above his collar, and the dark blue polo shirt made his deep blue eyes stand out. He was a year or two older than me and in great shape. I looked away. He wasn’t unattractive.
But he wasn’t Sam.
I huffed a laugh. Sam was straight. His long list of girlfriends throughout school proved that. I swallowed the rest of the drink and carefully centered the glass on the wet circle it had left on the napkin.
“How long are you in Washington?” I asked. “I mean, the championship doesn’t start until next week. Is the paper paying for you to stay the whole time?”
His denim eyes landed on me in surprise. “The paper isn’t paying me. I’m sure they’ll buy the story, but I came out on my own dime.”
“For the championship?” I frowned. “I doubt we stand much of a chance.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” He looked at the table. “The story will be about you.”
A twisty feeling hit my gut. “But there’s no story. Why make the trip?”
His jaw flexed, then he grabbed my empty glass. “Let me get us another round.”
I tried to protest, but he was up and gone before I could stop him. My cheeks burned when I caught myself admiring the way he moved as he wove through the crowd, and I realized I was afraid.
When I landed in Seattle, I found myself in a different world than the conservative Bible belt town I’d been raised in. Within hours of being on campus, I met several same-sex couples. At first, I didn’t know how to respond to seeing their open affection for each other. Despite the fact that I had come to terms with my attraction to men, until I saw their easy way of being with each other, I couldn’t have imagined acting on my feelings. It went against everything my family believed, and if I ever did act on my feelings with a man, it would re-open the barely closed rift between my dad and me. Worse, I knew it would destroy my mom. The last thing I wanted was to hurt my parents. I’d always wanted them to be proud of me. As a result, I poured myself into baseball as a way to cope with a desire I couldn’t do anything about.
Spending copious amounts of time in locker rooms full of adolescent boys with little shame should have made being gay impossible to deny, and there were moments I struggled, but one thing got me through every time; I never allowed myself to consider anyone besides Sam. By focusing all my desire toward the one person I knew I could never have, hiding became easy.
But away from the pressure of my parent's expectations, defiance was quickly overtaking my reluctance to out myself. All I had to do was stop being afraid, and admit what I really wanted.
I looked around the room again. Most of my teammates were engaged, married, or in committed relationships. Not that all of them were faithful in those relationships, but at least they had someone to go home to at night.
I watched David laugh with the bartender. His handsome smile turned my way, and I didn’t avoid his gaze. Maybe it was time to take the risk.
“A little more rum this time?” He set the glass and a fresh bottle of beer in front of me. “I promise I’m not trying to get you drunk.”
“I’ll take the beer,” I said and pointed the bottle toward the other drink. “One of those is more than enough for me.” I sipped tentatively. It was better cold, but this had to be the last drink for me. I was already feeling the effects, and I didn’t like the way my head felt light.
“I can respect that.” His eyes searched mine, and the next twist in my stomach felt like a warning, but I ignored it.
I took another drink of the beer as he slid the amber drink to sit next to the identical one he’d bought for himself. If he drank both, that would make at least three I knew of, and I had no idea if he’d had any before joining me. My conscious flickered red. I needed to be cautious.
“You never did answer my question,” I said, toying nervously with the edge of a menu. “How long are you in town?”
“A couple more days. I fly out Tuesday morning.” He took a sip, then shifted to catch my eye. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You’re a reporter. Isn’t that what you do?” I quipped.
His expression was rueful. “Yeah, but this one’s off the record.”
“Is there such a thing?” I raised a brow and sat back, tipping the chair onto the back legs and taking a swig of the beer. My skin felt hot, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the beer or nerves. For a split second, I felt like a different person. One I wasn’t sure I wanted to be. I pushed the feeling away, hoping my discomfort didn’t show.
“In this case, yes.” His gaze drifted over me as if assessing my posture. He must have read the hesitation because he shook his head. “Never mind.”
“What?” I lowered the chair and shot him a taunting smile. “Do you give up that easily?” My chest tightened. I was flirting with him. Awkwardly, but there it was.
“Okay.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “You’re not out, are you?”
“Not yet,” I said flippantly. The thrum of my pulse increased when he blinked in surprise. I groaned internally. “Wait. What kind of out were you referring to?”
You’re an idiot.
His quiet laugh caught me off guard, but the tension left when his neck reddened, and he said, “Neither am I.” He glanced around the room. “Being an openly gay sports reporter doesn’t exactly sound like a wise way to be accepted in the locker room, does it?”
“No.” I chuckled. “I guess it wouldn’t.”
He drained his glass. “I’m as professional as any other reporter in that room, but if one whiff ever got out, my career would be over.”
“Maybe not.” I picked up a discarded napkin and shredded it. “Things have changed a lot in the last few years.”
“Not that much.” He took a swallow from the drink that had been mine. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
“No.” I should have kept the disappointment from my tone, but my thoughts drifted to Sam.
How sad was it that I’d created a relationship in my head that didn’t exist? Sam didn’t even know I was gay, let alone that I was pining for him. I picked at the label of the bottle to keep from looking at David.
David’s arm rested against mine, and the backs of his fingers brushed my forearm. He was watching me sympathetically.
“Recent break up?” he asked.
“Not exactly. He and I were never…” I exhaled. “It’s complicated, I guess.”
“I understand that.” He emptied the rest of his drink, watching me over the rim. The room had quieted. Most of the guys and their dates had left, and the few still around were nursing their drinks at the bar.
It was after 1 AM, and I noted David was looking a little past buzzed.
“Did you drive?” I asked.
“Yeah. But it’s no big deal. My hotel is only a few minutes away.” He shrugged.
My mouth was dry, and I tipped the rest of the beer down with a grimace. It was warm and flat, but it gave me enough courage to look him in the eye.
“Why don’t I call us a cab?” I suggested. “I don’t think I should try to drive either. My folks would kill me if I got a DUI.”
He waved me off. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I insist.” I pushed away from the table and looked up the nearest cab company on my phone. “What hotel are you in?”
“Holiday Inn on Weyburn, I think.” He pulled out a keycard and confirmed the address.
It was far more than a few minutes away, and in the opposite direction from my apartment. I gave the hotel address to the cab company along with mine and blanched at the cost.
“Hold on,” I covered the receiver. “Why don’t you crash at my place, and we’ll come back tomorrow for the cars?”
“Sure.” He hurried to lay some cash on the table even though we hadn’t seen a waitress all night. “As long as you don’t mind.”
“Nah,” I confirmed the destination with the cab company and hung up. As the call canceled, the picture on my lock screen popped up. I stared at the image I’d chosen. It was Sam and me in our high school cap and gowns in front of the football stadium. I was staring at him, memorizing his face before I got on the plane to come out here the next day.
“Is he the complication?” David asked. He was standing beside me, leaning over my shoulder for a better look at the phone. His breath was hot on my cheek and smelled faintly of coke.
I blacked out the screen and tucked it in my pocket.
“No. He’s just a friend,” I lied.
The cab dropped us off at the front door to my building, and I tugged my keys from my pocket. I was bone tired and probably qualified as drunk for the first time in my life.
“And the last,” I whispered, not meaning to speak out loud.
“What did you say?” David latched onto my arm as we climbed to the second landing.
“Nothing.” I shook my head to clear it and wrapped my arm around his waist to take more of his weight. “I thought I was the lightweight,” I teased. “How much did you have?”
We reached my door, and David became a playful, but clumsy drunk. He ruffled my hair as I disengaged from him and unlocked the door. He propped his hand against the wall, looking a little unsteady. He swatted at me when I tried to help him inside.
“I’m fine.” He made it inside the door, but as I turned to close it, he stumbled over a pair of shoes at the edge of the threshold.
I lunged forward to catch him, keeping him upright with both arms around his middle.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t leave those there,” I said, and his face swung toward mine. His eyes were the color of the deep ocean and fixed on me with an intensity that shot straight to my gut.
He’s going to kiss me. The alcohol blurred my common sense just enough to let my curiosity take over, and I leaned in to meet him.
The instant our lips touched, something in my chest seized to a stop. It wasn’t my heart because blood pounded in my ears. His lips were firm and warm over mine and for a long second, I reveled in the fact that I had done the one thing I’d wanted to do my whole life. I was kissing another man.
But when his whiskey tinged breath filled my nose, the reality of what I had allowed to happen made me sick. I resisted the need to shove him away, remembering he was too drunk to stand.
We’re both drunk. God, what have I done?
Shame flooded me, and I eased away until we were side by side and not chest to chest. He rested his head on my shoulder.
“I think I need to lay down,” David said, gesturing to the couch.
“You can have my bed.” I helped him down the short hallway, ignoring my crawling skin. I wanted him off of me, and I needed time and space to think. Putting him in my room seemed like the logical thing to do.
I flipped on the bathroom light before guiding him to the bed. I barely managed to extricate myself from his grip when he mischievously tried to pull me onto the mattress with him. He wasn’t aggressive, and I didn’t feel threatened. Besides I had about thirty pounds on him. Still, the thought of ending up in bed with him - drunk - disgusted me. He rolled onto his back with a half groan half laugh.
I swallowed the nausea rising in my throat and backed toward the door.
He realized I wasn’t joining him and lifted his head to peer at me. “This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I grasped the door handle as he rolled to his side. “This just isn’t my thing.”
He blew out a breath and sat up completely. “What? Me or bringing a guy home in general?” The playfulness was gone, and I sensed it would be better to have this conversation in the morning.
“Let’s talk about it when we’re both sober, okay?” I relaxed when he nodded, kicked off his shoes, and dropped back onto the bed.
“Thanks for letting me crash,” he muttered.
I’m pretty sure he was asleep before the door latched shut. Once I was back in the living room, cold fear washed over me. I sank to the couch with my head in my hands. Without the focus of getting David somewhere safe to distract me, I was instantly aware of what a terrible idea two beers and a mixed drink was for someone who had never consumed alcohol before. A headache throbbed behind my eyes, and my limbs were heavy and slightly numb.
I raked a hand through my hair and closed my eyes. I could only imagine my Dad’s fury if he ever found out what I’d done. That thought was bad enough, but as I rubbed a hand across my mouth to staunch the need to throw up, something inside me broke.
My first real kiss was with a drunk man I barely knew. All my life, I had imagined Sam being my first, however impossible that might be. I’d never even allowed myself to imagine being with anyone who wasn’t Sam, and he didn’t even know I was gay. I sank back on the couch with a groan of frustration.
Why had I never told Sam? I didn’t believe he would stop being a friend even if it was awkward for a while. No. The reason I didn’t tell him was because I was using the fantasy as an excuse to avoid being myself in real life. Internally, I wasn’t ashamed of being gay. Not anymore. But I was holding back for some reason, and the more I thought about it, I knew telling Sam was the key.
I stared at the ceiling, not sure I was thinking clearly, but telling Sam the truth made more sense than anything else I’d done this far. I would tell him the next time I saw him. Maybe I could make a quick trip home after the championship. If telling him turned out to be a complete disaster, I could look for a job somewhere other than Indiana after graduation. I closed my eyes and let sleep creep up on me.
I was shamefully relieved to find David already gone when I woke up hungover and sore from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. He left a note on the refrigerator whiteboard letting me know he’d called a cab and would check in with me to schedule an interview about the championship. His number was scrawled at the bottom of the note, and I sent him quick text to let him know I’d seen the message. I set the phone aside and pulled out the ingredients to make a protein shake, hoping food would alleviate my pounding head.
A text message came in, and the familiar chime of Sam’s ringtone reminded me of the decision I’d made the night before. I stared at the phone as it chimed again. I swiped the screen and found he’d sent a picture of a real estate listing. The house was a small yellow and blue cottage with an attached garage.
Sam - I’m putting in an offer on this tomorrow. What do you think?
A smile tugged at my mouth as I scrolled through the pictures of the freshly remodeled house and found myself easily picturing Sam and me living there. I imagined the two of us spending nights sitting on the back porch swing, and waking up to make coffee for him every morning in the sunlit breakfast nook off the kitchen.
I set the phone down and stared at it. I was out of my mind. This fantasy of mine had to end.
Me - It looks great. I’ll be home in a week before I start finals. You can give me a tour.
Sam - It’s pretty small, but better than an apartment. If they accept the offer, I’ll let you know.
After a few quick texts about the upcoming championship, he said he had to get to work. I made and downed the smoothie, then headed to the living room to book my flights.
Chapter 3
SAMUEL
I followed Michael and a group of his teammates toward the parking lot. The rest of the graduating class and their families swirled around us until the gravel pathway out of the stands opened up, and the crowd thinned. The cluster of guys ahead of me laughed as they shrugged out of the red and black robes, slapping each other on the back. Twice Michael glanced back with a guilty look on his face, but I waved him on. He was always the one surrounded by people.
Our high school graduation hadn’t been much different.
As the star of the baseball team that won the state championship three years in a row, Michael drew crowds and made friends without much effort. Scouts from big-name colleges were courting him as a high school sophomore, and by the time he was a senior, full tuition offers were stacked up. Though there were bigger colleges and better programs closer to home, he’d accepted Seattle University’s scholarship without hesitation. If anyone asked why, his only response was because he was a Mariners fan. Four years later, he was again the star of the team with a bachelor’s in physical education, a master’s degree in sports administration, and a list of volunteer and community awards longer than my arm.
He was the classic overachiever, and his parents had rewarded him with a brand-new Mustang GT. We stopped beside it, and the guys oohed and ahhed over it until Michael threatened them with bodily harm if they breathed on it. Laughing, the guys broke off, heading for their own cars and shouting invitations and directions to grad parties. Before he walked away, one of the guys pointed to me.
“The suit’s invited, too,” he said.
“The suit has a flight to catch,” I replied. “But thanks for the invite.”
“More beer for us!” The guy punched Michael in the shoulder, then held up his hand in an imitation of a phone. “Call if you’re going to be late,” he said, and I didn’t like the suggestive look he gave Michael before he turned and jogged to catch up to the rest of the team.
Michael shook his head with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry about that. It’s an inside joke from a couple nights ago. They’re all crazy, but a good bunch.” He set his cap on the roof and unzipped the black gown. “Thank you for flying out.” His gray eyes were bright, and the happiness in them made my skin tighten. “What time is your flight home?”
“Eight.” I didn’t tell him it was eight tomorrow morning, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit I was hoping to spend the evening alone with him rather than at a party. I let my eyes drift over the slowly emptying parking lot as an uncomfortable silence fell between us.
I knew he was watching me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. A month ago, when he came home for a few days between the championship loss and his graduation, I nearly made a huge mistake that had left a lingering sense of awkwardness between us.
I was giving him a tour of the house I’d just bought. We walked through the small rooms and brushed against each other more than once in the hall. It turned into playful shoving and an impromptu wrestling match in the empty living room. I caught him under the arms and hooked a leg around his, flipping him onto his back. In a quick maneuver, I was lying prone across him, one knee between his legs while my hips and chest held him pinned to the floor. Our laughter died away, and it was several heartbeats before I realized I was staring at his panting mouth only inches from mine. I’d resisted the urge to kiss him, but there was no way to hide the way my body reacted to being on top of him.
“Sam?” He swallowed, and his hand slipped free to rest lightly on my shoulder. “Let me up,” he said raggedly.
Mortified, I raised to my knees as he extricated himself from where our legs had gotten tangled. He turned and slid to sit a few feet away, both of us breathing heavily. The feel of his strong body underneath mine lingered, and when his gaze dropped to the pulse in my neck, I wondered if he could hear the desire pounding through me.
I cleared my throat and rolled to my feet. He stayed where he was, kneading his left quad with long fingers.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I asked.
He snorted. “Only my pride. I forgot I’m not the only one with a high school championship.”
Most of the tension dissipated, and I scowled as he climbed to his feet. “Easy to forget when my wrestling trophy is in a box somewhere in the school basement, and yours is in the main hall trophy case.”
“Still jealous about that, eh?” He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt.
“Not at all.” I scoffed and lead the way into the dining room. “Come on, this place even has a finished basement. I was thinking of putting in a home theater.”
We ended the tour in the kitchen and were standing only inches apart in a narrow landing between the basement stairs and the garage door. He shifted to open the door and rested his shoulder against mine.
“Good job, Sammy.” His eyes darted across my face. “It’s a nice place.”
I bumped his shoulder playfully. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
I caught the faint smell of sweat and leather. I didn’t realize what I was doing until my lips touched his cheek and then lingered to absorb the scent of him. He exhaled a puff of surprise, then stiffened and turned away. The back of his neck was beet red, and he chuckled uncomfortably.
“Yeah. You’re welcome,” he said roughly and stepped into the empty garage.
Mortified, I couldn’t think of anything else to say and followed him toward the drive where his rental car was parked. I stopped just inside the garage and shoved my hands in my pockets. It really shouldn’t have been as awkward as it was, but there was something about his posture that told me I had crossed a line he wasn’t comfortable with.
He unlocked the car and paused beside the door. When his eyes finally met mine, the hungry look in them sent a shower of sparks down my back.
“I’ll see you at graduation?” His voice was low.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t miss it.” Mine cracked in embarrassment.
He nodded, dropped into the car, and drove away, leaving me wondering what the hell that look was all about. When he left town the next day without saying goodbye, I was angry.
We had talked since that night, but things were different. The lingering awkwardness from the wrestling match and kiss hung between us as the proverbial elephant in the room neither of us seemed willing to address.
I’d managed to schedule an extra night in Seattle hoping we could talk about it, but when heat flooded my stomach as I watched him loosen his tie and unbutton the top of his shirt, I couldn’t work up the nerve to say anything.
He cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Mom and Dad were glad to see you.”
“It was good to see them again. It’s been a while.” I fidgeted with the rental keys in my pocket. “Are you coming home before you start your new job?”
“Yes. Mom found an apartment in downtown Canberry that will be ready about the time I get home,” he said matter-of-factly.
My eyes snapped to his. “You’re coming home for good?” I regretted how much my response revealed and tried to backpedal. “You said you had contract offers.”
“I do.” He shrugged and pushed off the car. “But I haven’t signed anything yet.” He studied me for a moment, and my pulse jumped when he stepped into my space. “Come to the party with me tonight,” he said softly.
The hunger I thought I’d seen in my driveway edged his eyes in a stormy, dark gray as something like electricity crackled between us. My gaze dropped to his lips, and I opened my mouth to say yes, but a car rumbled to a stop next to us.
“Stud man!” The passenger window was down, and a guy reached his arm out toward Michael. “You coming to Rich’s?”
Michael grinned and slapped his hand before leaning down to look in the window. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“I’ll save you a seat on the deck,” the passenger said then turned when the driver replied something I couldn’t hear. The first guy shot me a glance. His arched eyebrow and the suggestive way he looked me over made my skin tighten. “Unless you two have other plans,” he crooned.
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