“Where are you going with those?” Mary asked, waving her Twizzler at me before she took a bite of it. Her brow arched. “And what exactly are those?”
I felt like I’d been caught red-handed trying to steal alcohol out of my parents’ stash.
I looked down at the platter in my hands. “Banana nut muffins.”
“And you’re taking them where?”
I gave her a guilty look. “To our neighbors across the street.”
“To the Pit, you mean,” Mary said flatly, and she shook her head on a sigh as she bit off another piece of Twizzler. “You’re being stupid, my friend, but I’ll let you do it if you really want to.”
“What? I’m just being a nice neighbor,” I said. “I like to bake sometimes. You and I certainly won’t eat all these.”
It was only half a lie. I really did enjoy baking, when the mood struck me — and, truth be told, it hadn’t struck me in years. Which was a big reason why I’d been so giddy when it had, why I hadn’t second-guessed it or let myself overanalyze the why behind the feeling.
I’d come home from school, worked on an online quiz that was due before midnight, and as soon as I’d finished, I’d been struck with that nostalgic feeling I used to get when I was in high school, the one that urged me to pull out every ingredient in the fridge and pantry and see what I could bake up.
It was Mom I got this from.
When she was really happy, Mom would do one of two things: one, blast Celine Dion as loud as she could and clean the whole house, or two, blast Celine Dion as loud as she could and bake up a storm.
I was in middle school when I started wanting to learn, and Mom was happy to teach me. I had vivid memories of her explaining how precarious baking was, how just a smidge too much of this or too little of that could alter the entire recipe. It felt like a hobby and a challenge all in one, and eventually, I became even more engrossed than Mom.
Abby always loved when I got in this mood.
She’d close whatever book she was reading and hop up all excited, following me around in the kitchen and begging to help. We’d end up making a complete mess most of the time, flour and sugar everywhere.
That was exactly the feeling I got this afternoon, that bubbly, warm excitement.
Except this time, I didn’t have Abby.
I also didn’t have Mom, or her stocked kitchen, so I’d run to the store to get what I needed before blasting Summer Walker and singing along as I whipped up muffins with a delectable crumble topping.
And I was only taking them across the street because it was dangerous to have them all here with only me and Mary to eat them.
Mary blinked at me. “You’re so far gone you can’t even see the red flags waving, can you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Calm down. It’s not that serious.”
“You like him.”
I swallowed but lifted my chin in defiance. “I find him tolerable at best.”
That made her snort, and she turned, flopping down on the couch before she reached for her PlayStation controller. “Look, just be careful. Not only do I find all of those football players to be cocky, selfish assholes, but your dad is their coach.” She gave me a pointed look as she put on her headset. “And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be thrilled with knowing you were banging one of his players.”
“I won’t be banging anyone.”
She smiled. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m just being friendly.”
Mary ignored me, already talking to one of her friends on her headset as Final Fantasy VII Remake loaded on the TV screen.
I stood there a moment debating if I should keep defending myself before I decided it was pointless, and then I pushed outside into the cool evening air before I could talk myself out of it.
The real reason behind the muffins was that Holden had been cleared to return to practice today. I’d had a hand in it, meeting with JB and my father early this morning and updating them on where we were in his rehab. I felt confident he could start practicing, even if he had to take it easy for a few days. He wasn’t experiencing any pain or limitations in physical therapy, and his shoulder was strong, mobile.
What surprised me most was that Dad trusted me.
He believed me, seemingly impressed with my answers to his questions. Before the meeting was over, Dad assigned JB to take over and move Holden into the next phase.
And I was proud.
I was proud — God, when was the last time I’d felt that? I couldn’t remember a time outside of unlocking a new trick in pole. The studio or my living room with that chrome lover were about the only times I felt good.
Until recently.
Something about working with Holden had given me purpose, had given me confidence.
Him being released back to practice felt like something worth celebrating — for both of us.
And so, I carried the platter of muffins with my chin held high, knocking on the front door of the Pit on what sounded like a particularly quiet evening for them.
Leo opened the door, and I was thankful it wasn’t Kyle — who had been pretty relentless in his advances since that night of the party.
“Julep,” he said with a surprised smile, opening the door for me to step in. “What’s up?”
“I made muffins,” I said stupidly, holding up the tray. “Thought there might be some hungry football players here who could help me eat them.”
“Oh, you have come to the right place, cariño,” he said, taking the tray out of my hands.
I followed him into the kitchen where he sat them down on the counter, and I looked around, a bit impressed with how clean the place was considering how I’d seen it at the party last time I’d been inside.
Leo groaned when he unwrapped the cloth I’d put over the muffins, and he picked one up, peeling the wrapper off the bottom and shoving half of it in his mouth. “Homahgod,” he said, moaning. “They’re still warm.”
I chuckled, crossing my arms as I looked around. I hated the way I not-so-subtly looked for Holden, wondering why he hadn’t come down when he heard me.
But there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ask where he was.
“It doesn’t often look like this,” Leo said around another bite of muffin, nodding to where I was looking. “This clean, I mean. Cap has been in a mood since he got home from his last class. He scrubbed these counters like Coach Lee himself was going to come and inspect them after.”
I smirked at the joke, biting back the niggling question in my mind.
Where is he now?
“He’s upstairs in his room,” Leo said, like he could read my mind, and the smirk he wore mirrored the knowing one Mary had given me when I left the house. “If you want to take him a muffin, see if it’ll get him out of his grumpy mood.”
“Grumpy?” I frowned. “He was cleared to practice today. I figured he’d be ecstatic.”
Leo shrugged. “Must have something else going on. But hey, nothing these won’t fix,” he said, holding out one of the muffins. He nodded toward the stairs, and though I narrowed my gaze at the suspicious grin he was giving me, he only pushed the muffin toward me more.
I carefully took it from him, still giving him a look as I conceded.
Leo smiled a little too proudly as he all but skipped back into the living room, and he flopped down onto the couch just like Mary had, putting on his headset and tuning back into the game I’d interrupted. I idly wondered if he and Mary played any of the same games but didn’t muse on it too much before I was climbing the stairs up to the dark hallway of rooms.
Holden’s was on the end, the one that overlooked the side of the garden. I knocked softly but got no response.
“Holden?” I asked, testing the knob. I pushed it open just a crack, peering in to make sure I wasn’t going to storm in on him naked or anything. Music played from a small Bluetooth speaker, something melancholy and beautiful that I didn’t recognize. When I didn’t see anything, I pushed the door open a little wider. “You in here?”
It was humid in his room, warm and wet with the intoxicating smell of a man’s body wash. I heard his bare feet on the floor first, and then Holden rounded the corner out of his en-suite bathroom.
In nothing but a navy-blue towel that was wrapped low around his waist.
I swallowed, standing there in the doorway with a fucking muffin in my hand as my eyes raked over him. I didn’t have a choice, couldn’t have stopped them even if I tried. It was like an irresistible magnet, the way the water dripped from his hair, sluicing over his swollen pectoral muscles, his defined abs, trickling all the way down to where a deep V disappeared under the towel at its apex. With only his bedroom lamp on, he seemed to glow like a Roman god, and I marveled at his chiseled body, at what years and years of being an athlete had sculpted him into.
He was cleaning one ear with a Q-tip, watching me as I watched him, and when I met his gaze, it wasn’t warm or flirty or even the least bit playful. I waited for him to call me out for my blatant scan of him, to make some smart-ass comment, but instead, he turned back toward the bathroom.
“What’s up?” he asked over his shoulder, disappearing behind the wall.
I frowned at the unusual coldness but stepped tentatively more into his room. “I, uh… I baked muffins,” I said.
Like an idiot.
“A lot of them,” I added. “So, I brought some to share.”
Holden padded out of the bathroom again, one hand running a small towel over his head as his eyes fell to the muffin in my hand. I offered it to him, and he glanced up at me before taking the muffin, turning it over in his hand, and setting it on his desk.
“Thanks,” he said, and then he drooped the towel he’d been drying his hair with over one shoulder and opened up his top dresser drawer. He pulled out a t-shirt and basketball shorts, dropping them to his bed. His hands found the top of his towel, the muscles in his back flexing with that light sheen of water on them as he did.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, and I flushed, turning to give him some privacy.
I heard him drop the towel to the floor once my back was to him.
I swallowed.
“I thought we should celebrate,” I said, picking at dirt under one of my nails to give myself something to focus on other than the fact that Holden was naked behind me. I heard the distinct sound of him shrugging on his shorts and then his t-shirt as I continued. “You getting cleared for practice, I mean.”
Holden brushed past me, dressed now, and hung his towels in the steamy bathroom as I followed and leaned a hip against the door frame.
“It’s just practice,” he said, indifferent and far too moody for my taste.
“Yeah, but it’s one step closer to playing again,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
He walked past me, squeezing as close as he could to the opposite side of the door frame where I leaned, almost like he was afraid of touching me.
I blinked, face screwed up in confusion and maybe a bit of annoyance as I turned just in time to watch him sink into his desk chair. He pulled out a textbook from his bag and splayed it open like I wasn’t even there.
I noticed the CDs he’d grabbed at the yard sale laying on the corner of his desk, and I smiled a little, picking one of them up and turning it to read the song list on the back.
“Have you listened to any of these yet?”
“Nope.”
He answered without looking up, the word a pop on his lips.
I ignored his shortness, persisting. “Still running to Green Day?” I probed, reaching for his Discman, but before I could pry it open, he snagged it out of my hands and shoved it in his top desk drawer, slamming it shut.
“Can you stop touching things?”
“Can you stop being such a grumpy jerk?” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You haven’t even looked at me since I walked in this room.”
He shook his head, pretending to focus on the words in his textbook even though I knew he couldn’t read a damn thing with me there.
I sighed, wondering if this was residual upset from the win on Saturday. It was a good thing that we won, of course, but I knew even though he’d never admit it out loud, it bothered Holden a little bit, too.
Because they won without him.
I watched him for a moment before I said, “It’s just a couple games. They still need you. And now that you’re cleared to practice, you’ll be back out there before you know it. You’ll be—”
“Save the pep talk for someone who gives a shit,” he interrupted, flipping a page so haphazardly he nearly tore it.
My head reared back as if he’d slapped me. “What is your problem?”
“You!”
The word rolled off of him like a bellowing roar of thunder, loud and menacing, his chest heaving as he slammed the textbook shut and glared up at me.
I didn’t know what to do, what to say, so I just stared back.
“You,” he said, his voice still rough and ragged as he splayed his hands on the desktop and used it to stand, to push into my space. “You’re my problem. You, and your hot and cold bullshit, your blatant annoyance with me followed quickly by trying to make me laugh, make me feel better. You and your leave me alone attitude one minute and your let’s play attitude followed right after.”
My breath caught in my throat as he stepped even more into me, his chest touching mine, the fresh scent of him hitting my nose.
“You,” he said on a shaky breath that touched my lips. “And the way you’ve scrambled my fucking brain.”
He lifted his chin, just a notch, so that he was staring at me down the bridge of his nose. Every cell in my body vibrated under that stare. I noted how the muscle in his jaw ticked, how his throat was tight on his next swallow before he blew out a breath and shoved away from me.
Holden stormed to the other side of the room, his hands raking back through his hair before he left them clasped on top of his head, his back to me, eyes on the garden outside the window.
For a moment, I was shocked still and silent.
And then, I scoffed.
“Oh, fuck you, Holden,” I spat, shaking my head. “Don’t act like I played some game with you that you didn’t willingly participate in, too.”
He laughed, turning to face me before his hands hit his legs with a slap. “What do you want from me? Hmm?”
I sobered, swallowing. “A friend,” I said weakly.
“A friend,” he echoed on another bitter laugh. “Right. Okay. Then we’ll be friends. You can leave now.”
I shook my head. “I came over here to celebrate, to be fucking nice and bring you a goddamn muffin. You’ve been moved from me to JB. This is a good sign, Holden.”
“You think me getting switched to him means I’ll be playing soon?” he asked incredulously, and then he stepped toward me, face leveling out. “I was put with JB again because your father doesn’t want me anywhere near you.”
My jaw was set as I argued, “No, it’s because at this point, you need a more experienced trainer to step in and—”
“God, will you just…” Holden fisted his hands, shaking them as frustration colored his face red. “Shut up?!”
I all but growled as I crossed the space between us and pressed my chest to his, nearly knocking his chin with my own. “Make me.”
He stared down at me, his eyes flicking between mine, chest heaving with rage. He grabbed my arms like he was going to throw me off him, like he was going to shove me to the side and storm past me right out of the room.
But instead, he gripped them tight enough to bruise, like he wanted to leave a mark.
And he kissed me.
His mouth hit mine with brutal pressure, hands sliding roughly up my arms to grip my face, instead. And he pinned me there, holding me to him as he inhaled that kiss in a mix of want and fury.
I pushed back.
Pressing up onto my toes, I met his demand, opening my mouth and gripping his hair in my hands as I tugged back just a little, just enough for me to suck his bottom lip between my teeth and bite.
Holden groaned, and my entire body erupted in chills as his hands groped blindly down my back for my ass. He cupped me to him, and I scraped my nails down his back with the same infuriating need.
One breath, and I was lifted, my legs hiked up and wrapping around his waist as he palmed my ass and held me to him. Another, and I was dropped onto his bed, the covers whooshing up around me with the pressure of my weight hitting the mattress. I didn’t have time for a third breath before Holden was on top of me, his knee between my thighs, backing me up into his pillows with punishing, desperate kisses.
His tongue snaked against mine, and I held the hair at the nape of his neck, held him to me, demanding more. I ignored every distant warning sign blaring in the back of my mind, ignored every ounce of good sense I had that told me this couldn’t happen, that we couldn’t happen.
I wanted him.
I wanted him so badly I’d let him devour every bit of everything that I was. I’d let him banish me from existence, to wipe me off the face of the planet if it meant I got to succumb to this moment right now.
Holden ran his hands back through my hair and tightened his fingers into fists, making me arch, my chin tilting up and mouth popping free of his own. He licked and sucked along the skin of my jaw, my neck, across my collarbone as I writhed beneath the touch. I couldn’t move, not with him holding my hair so tightly, and it only made every caress that much more intense as he crawled his way back up, gently biting my chin before he claimed my mouth once more.
One hand released my hair, moving to my hip and squeezing me hard before he roughly pushed his palm up under the hem of my shirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my nipples ached with need as Holden’s fingers splayed up my rib cage. He stopped short, just the tip of his thumb brushing the bottom of my breast as his thigh pressed against me, stimulating that sensitive bundle of nerves with the seam of my jeans.
I moaned into his mouth in a desperate plea for more.
It was the sound that shattered the illusion.
Holden stilled, panting, his grip going lax and lips still touching mine though he was no longer kissing me. He held me pinned there for only a second longer before he threw himself back, off me, all the way to the other side of the bed.
He ran his hands back through his hair, balancing his elbows on his bent knees as he drew them toward his chest. He looked like a mad man, like someone on the verge of an absolute fucking breakdown.
Reality crashed down on me next.
I knew without him saying one single word that I should go, that we’d made a mistake, that we’d gone too far.
You can’t have me, I’d told him in the garden that night at the party.
And yet, here I was, breaking the very rule I’d taken every chance I had to remind him of.
“You need to leave,” he managed, voice rough and uneven. “Now. Go. Go, Julep.”
Swallowing, I shuffled off the bed, smoothing my hands over my hair and shirt as I ripped his door open and flew out of it without looking back.
I ran down the stairs, out the door, across his yard and the street, and then my own yard before tumbling in through the front door. I locked it behind me as if he’d follow, ignored Mary’s puzzled gaze as I whizzed past her and blew upstairs to my room, shutting the door before I slammed my back against it and slid down to the floor.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t believe what we’d just done.
I couldn’t wrap my head around how it had happened at all.
And yet, I knew already that I would risk anything to do it again.
