Two Weeks Later
“Alright class,” I say as the kids begin to gather their books and get ready to run out of the building. It’s Friday, and they’re eager to get out of here and start their weekends. I can’t blame them. It’s been a long week, and as much as I love my students, sometimes it’s nice to get a little break from the chaos that is being an elementary school teacher. “Don’t forget, your science fair project proposals are due on Monday. Did everyone hear me? Due on Monday!”
Some of the kids groan in response, and I spot a few writing down actual reminders in their planners. Then they all start filing out of the room, but I stop one of them on his way out.
“Hey, Joey,” I say in a soft voice so that the rest of the class won’t think he’s in trouble. “Come here for a second.”
Joey is one of my sweetest but most hyper students, and if I don’t take special care to make sure he knows what the homework is, he never remembers.
“Yeah, Miss Marshall?”
“Did you hear what I said about the science fair?” I ask, once the rest of the kids are gone. I don’t like to embarrass Joey in front of his friends, so I always make sure to talk to him at the end of the day when none of the other students are around so he doesn’t get teased for being forgetful.
“Uh—yeah.”
I frown. “Did you really?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then what did I say?”
“That… the science fair… will be on Monday?”
I laugh. “No, not quite. I said that the proposal for your science fair project is due on Monday. The science fair itself isn’t going on for another few weeks.”
“Ah, okay. I got it.”
“You sure?”
He nods excitedly. “Yeah, I have a really cool idea, actually. But I’m not going to tell you about it. It’s a surprise.”
“Alright, then. Just make sure you get the proposal done this weekend, okay? It has to be a full page long.”
“I know,” he says. “I won’t forget.”
Then he shrugs his backpack a little higher up on his shoulders and takes off running after his friends. I smile as I watch him leave, wondering what the odds are that he’ll actually show up Monday morning with the assignment ready to turn in.
I go back to my desk and start packing my bag, tossing in the romance novel I’ve been reading during my lunch breaks. I left it in my desk in the classroom last weekend and was so bummed because Saturday nights are when I get most of my reading done. Reese makes fun of me for staying in on the weekends, nose deep in a book, but I don’t really care. There are plenty of things I make fun of him for, like his terrible taste in TV shows.
Speaking of Reese…
I check the time and realize I’m running late to meet him. With my bag in tow and my book securely packed away, I leave the school and hop on a bus toward his place.
A lot of his teammates live in expensive condos in downtown Denver, but he’s got a house a little farther out from the heart of the city. We made plans a few days ago for me to meet him there so he can help me shoot a fundraising video for supplies for my classroom, using his hockey star clout to help me raise more money. A lot of the teachers at my school, myself included, often pay for school supplies out of our own pockets, but I really want to get some better materials for my classroom than I can currently afford.
Maybe having him flash his megawatt grin on camera will inspire some hockey fans to donate to my class.
I pull out my book on the bus, careful to check behind me to make sure no one is reading over my shoulder. Not that I’m ashamed of reading spicy romance, but it’s not exactly a conversation I want to strike up with a total stranger.
The bus drops me off near Reese’s house, and as I walk the last few blocks through the gorgeous residential neighborhood, I text him to let him know I’m almost there.
His house is one of the newer ones on his block, with clean lines, large windows, and a nice big front yard. I walk up to the door and knock, checking my phone at the same time. He hasn’t texted me back, but the door is unlocked, so I figure he must’ve gotten my message.
I feel bad that I’m running late, so I step inside, calling out, “Hey, Reese? I’m here! I—”
He steps out of the hallway at the same moment I close the door behind me, and my words break off.
He’s naked.
Entirely, completely, ass-to-the-wind naked.
For a suspended second, we just stare at each other in shocked silence. I’m vaguely aware that he seems somehow taller without his clothes on—or maybe that’s just because there’s nothing to hide all that long, lean muscle. The broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, his washboard abs, and the little V cuts at his sides that lead down to—
I yank my gaze back up to his face, realizing that I just came perilously close to ogling my best friend’s dick.
“Ahhh!”
The scream rips out of me at the same moment a loud, startled yell bursts from his lips. He ducks back down the hallway, disappearing from view. I clap my hand over my mouth, then move it up to my eyes, then back down to my mouth.
There’s a loud thump, and I hear him mutter, “Ow. Fuck.”
A second later, he returns, tugging a pair of gray sweatpants over his hips.
“Jesus, Callie. You scared me.”
I shake my head and drop my hand, still trying to get my equilibrium back. “I’m sorry. You left the door open, so I thought that meant I should come in. I did not mean to see—” I wave a hand at his… everything. “—all of that.”
He runs a hand through his messy dark blond hair, which is still wet from the shower he must’ve just gotten out of. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. We’ve been friends forever, Cal. It’s no big deal.”
“I’m not sure Sienna would see it that way,” I mutter, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I’m not sure his girlfriend has ever really liked me, and I’m positive this won’t help.
His face falls. He rests a hand on the wall, scrubbing his other hand over the back of his neck as he looks down at the floor. “Yeah, well, I doubt she cares much about anything I do anymore. She just broke up with me.”
“What?” My jaw falls open.
“Yeah.” He snorts a breath, his lips pressing together. “Earlier today. She told me it was over.”
Now that I’m no longer so distracted, I can see the lines of strain on his face, the dullness in his brown eyes. Reese is one of the most cheerful people I’ve ever met, and the expression he’s wearing right now is so different from his usual charming grin. It hurts my heart, and before I even think about it, I’m stepping forward, striding across the room and wrapping my arms around him.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “That’s awful.”
“Thanks.” His muscled arms band around me, and I feel his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh. “It’s my own damn fault. I should’ve known something was wrong when she kept putting off moving in with me. I brought it up for the first time months ago, and she kept coming up with excuses for why it wasn’t a good time. But the truth is, she was already one foot out the door.”
I wince. “You couldn’t have known that, Reese. I mean… I thought things were okay with you two.”
He’s silent for a moment, but he doesn’t let go of me. I’m shorter than him by a good eight inches, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. My cheek is pressed up against his bare chest, a few of his chest hairs tickling my skin, and my hands are splayed over the thick muscles of his back.
I forgot he was shirtless when I went in for a hug, and I feel suddenly awkward about it. He’s been my best friend for years, so it’s not like he’s never hugged me before, but we haven’t hugged for quite this long or quite this intimately in… well, maybe ever.
I start to slowly lift my hands from his back, easing my arms out of a hug position, and after another moment, he drops his arms too.
“We can do that video another time,” I tell him, brushing my unruly red hair over my shoulder.
“Oh, fuck.” Realization crosses his features, and he runs a hand down his face. “That’s what you’re doing here. I totally forgot about it. I’m sorry, Cal. I thought about it this morning, and then with everything that happened, I just totally spaced.”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “We can do it a different time. It really doesn’t matter.”
“No, no. We should do it now.”
He shakes his head firmly as he speaks, but I can tell that his mind is still in a million different places. He’s clearly still reeling from being dumped, and I’d feel like an asshole making him shoot a video with me where he has to smile for the camera and pretend to be happy right now.
“Truly, Reese.” I hold up a hand. “Another time is fine. It’s not urgent or anything.”
A flicker of relief passes over his face, and his hand moves a little, almost like he’s about to reach for me again. Then he blows out a breath and nods, taking a step back.
“Yeah, maybe another time is better. I want to get it right, and I’m not sure I’d be very effective at convincing people to give you money right now.” He grimaces. “Unless you’re going for the pity angle.”
I make a face, trying to lighten the mood. “Reese, if I was going for the pity angle, I could’ve shot the video on my own.” I gesture to myself, waving my hand to encompass my entire being. “Pitiful is all up in my wheelhouse.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “No, it isn’t.”
I laugh, settling back into the easy banter the two of us always have. “Well, if not pitiful, then at the very least, awkward.”
A grin curves his lips, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’d argue with you there, but I do recall you accidentally groping the waiter at that little diner we used to go to.”
“It was college!” I protest. “I was tired. We’d been up all night studying, and I…”
“Get a little handsy when you’re tired?”
I glare at him. “No. It was an actual accident.”
For a moment, amusement glints in his eyes, but it slips away quickly. His gaze drops to the floor again, taking on an out-of-focused quality, and I know he’s probably thinking about Sienna. I bite my lip, wrapping my fingers around the strap of my bag.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask quietly. “Anything you need?”
“Just to be alone for a bit,” he says, his voice a little rough. He clears his throat, looking up at me with a forced smile. “I’ll text you about setting up another time for the video, okay? Sorry to bail on you today.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him.
I’m not sure if there’s anything else I should do or say, so I linger awkwardly for a second before giving him one more quick hug and heading for the door.
He follows me, his bare feet quiet on the wood floor. He holds the door open for me, then closes it as I step outside, and I scrunch up my face as I hurry down the walkway toward the street.
God, you really are the queen of awkward encounters, Callie.
I’ve always felt like I have the gift—or the curse—of making any situation particularly awkward, and today just proves that theory correct.
Who else but me would walk in on their hockey player best friend while he was naked, on the same day his girlfriend broke up with him?
