THERE WERE two things I knew with complete and utter certainty.
One, I wasn’t going to throw away ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat. And two, had ten grand not been on the line, I without a doubt would’ve crawled back between the sheets with October Calhoun.
Now listen, I had some self-control, but by no means did I have a lot. Vibrators existed for a reason, which was tremendously helpful. However, had this been the early nineteenth century, I would’ve been fucked. Literally.
For the last eight and a half days, I’d avoided October at all costs. Well, aside from a few glances at Friday night dinner and the occasional peak out the window while he skimmed the pool in the mornings.
Two nights ago, both of us ate in silence while Scarlett and Lea talked about their latest work endeavors. Seeing as I’d been avoiding work like the plague lately, I didn’t have much to chime in with, anyway.
Oh, yeah. Business is great. Five seconds from going broke, but great. Really, really great.
Inherently, I knew I needed to get my shit together. To buck up and battle through the storm. Regardless of the outcome of the business, I would live comfortably for the rest of my life, thanks to my financial advisors. The houses were paid off, retirement accounts maxed, my investments had a consistent and healthy cash flow. Not to mention, there were brands constantly banging down my door offering me obscene amounts of money to wear their clothes or post about them on Socialgram.
I had everything I needed and more. There was something about running my own business that fueled a fire within me, though. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was doing something for myself. Not because someone was instructing me on how I needed to look or walk or pose.
This business was mine.
My only regret was not being as well versed in business as I should’ve been from the beginning. I’d made a few—okay, a lot more than a few—bad decisions out of ignorance. Couple that with the fact that I should’ve asked for help sooner, and there was really no one to blame but myself.
I’d heard the phrase once that nearly half of small businesses fail within their first five years. I guess I was naive in believing I wouldn’t be one of them. Now, like a coward, I was trying to salvage my business at the eleventh hour to keep my models employed—the one’s I had left at least.
You know what? Enough thinking about this. I had places to be and I was still on the hunt for a shirt to wear to tonight’s Thursday night football game. The Matrix were playing the Atlanta Assassins and Lea scored Scarlett and I some sideline passes to watch Abel play.
Bursting out the backdoor, I marched over to the pool house, not even considering knocking before turning the handle and letting myself right in. My heels clanked against the hardwood floors as I made the left turn into Scarlett’s room—scratch that, October’s room.
Speak of the devil. There he stood shirtless with unzipped black suit pants and his boxer briefs showing out of the opening.
“Oh, sorry… I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“The door was unlocked?”
“Scarlett always left the door unlocked.”
Not to mention the part where I own this pool house and therefore, by obvious deductive reasoning, would be in possession of a key. Meaning that, even if it wasn’t locked, I could’ve got in with ease.
“You’re naked.” He lifted a brow at me.
“You’re one to talk.” I side eyed him, flinging open the closet doors. “Have you seen a lilac purple corset looking top lying around anywhere? I’ve checked my closet, Lea’s, and Scar’s and I can’t find it anywhere.”
The thing about committing to challenges was that I was going to win. Come hell or high water. This was especially true whenever October was involved.
As much as I’d grown fond of watching him out the window every morning as he cleaned the pool—shirtless, might I add—before running off to the Matrix’s morning practice, I was starting to feel like one of those middle-aged sex deprived mothers in those soap opera style television shows who spent their free time gawking over the pool boy.
It was appalling behavior on my part, really.
I should’ve been ashamed of myself.
“Wear this instead.” He tossed me the navy-blue jersey which had been laying on the edge of his bed.
I stuck out my hands to grab it, holding it out in front of me and watching it unfold to reveal a large, white number sixteen printed on the front, and, yup—you guessed it—his last name written across the back.
“This is your jersey.” I turned the garment around so he could see what I was seeing.
“Congrats on… wait, what are you making that face for? Is wearing my jersey such a bad thing?” His jaw was clenched tight, and I stood there with the jersey in my hands staring at it in disbelief. “Stop making that face and just put it on. You can’t wear purple anyway. That’s Atlanta’s color, and they’ll kick you off the sidelines before the game starts.”
“How many other girls have worn this?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I had the chance to filter them.
“It’s brand new… I wouldn’t give you a jersey someone else has worn. You deserve better than that.”
I was at a loss for words.
I didn’t like him. I might not have hated him anymore, but I still didn’t like him. And wearing a jersey with his name on it felt like a very “girlfriend” thing to do. I mean, I wasn’t very well versed in the world of sports, but this was totally the kind of thing that was reserved for girlfriends, right?
“Are you going to put it on yourself or do you need me to help you?” There was a snarky kick in his comment.
With my eyes squinted, I shoved my arms through the holes and pulled the two sizes too big jersey over my head. I turned to look in the floor length mirror in the corner, which had been there since I bought the place, taking in my newest outfit.
Not exactly what I had planned—like, ever in this lifetime—but it wasn’t awful. I looked good in navy blue, and sixteen was a good number, wasn’t it? It also helped that I couldn’t see October’s last name unless I turned around to look at it. That had to count for something, right?
I turned around, twisting my head over my shoulder to get a glimpse of the back of the jersey. Looking up, I caught October’s eyes in the mirror and the corner of his lips turned up into a small smile.
Did he… like this? Nope. Impossible. Hell would have to freeze over, pigs would have to fly, and we’d both have to get struck by lightning all at the same time before that could happen.
Im-fucking-possible.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You’re gorgeous, Mae. More gorgeous than my thoughts from the last seven years led me to believe.” He ran a thumb over his bottom lip, slowly as he looked me up and down. “Like it or not, I’ll never apologize for admiring how beautiful you are.”
“Wait… you thought about me… while we were apart?”
“Often.”
Huh.
“You’re acting strange today…” I muttered with a puzzled expression before shaking my head and twisting on my heels to walk out the door. Halfway into the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks.
“You know what, now that I’m here…” I turned to face him, watching as he threw on a white undershirt which somehow, someway made him look ten times sexier than when he was half naked. “Why are you still living here, anyway? The season started—what?—two weeks ago which means the roster was finalized at least a week before that, if not more…”
“Is this your way of kicking me out?” He lifted a brow in question.
“No. I don’t really care if you stay or not. I’m pretty indiffer—’ I suppressed the gasp spilling past my lips by slapping a hand to my mouth. “You’re such a shithead. You tricked me!”
“Looks like I’ll be sticking around after all.” He winked.
There was a burning fire flaring underneath my skin, and I had to fight not to ball my fists at my sides. I should’ve known his sudden niceness was too good to be true. It didn’t bother me too much that he was here, but it’s not like the guy couldn’t afford to go somewhere else.
“You just want to stay somewhere close to the practice facility.”
“Would you like a reward for getting that right?”
God, that smug smirk of his irritated the shit out of me sometimes. I gave him a blank look and threw up a middle finger for good measure before turning to head out the door again.
Would you like a reward for getting that right? Fucking asshole.
“I want to hear you cheering for me at the game, March baby,” he called out from the bedroom as I made my way down the hall.
“I would rather have my vocal cords burst into flames.” I mumbled, mostly to myself.
God, I hoped Scarlett wasn’t going to make a big deal about my outfit.
“Woohoo! Let’s go football,” I shouted, eyeing the delicious display of big, athletic men warming up on the field. My words of encouragement earned me a few head turns from the training staff and a laugh from the photographer who was standing a few feet from Scarlett and I.
“You don’t know a single thing about football, do you?” She peered up at me with a lifted brow.
“Not one thing.”
“Me either.”
We bumped nacho trays in solidarity, before taking our final bites and tossing them in the trash can behind us.
So far, I was liking football. I’d always wanted to pick a sport to be a fan of, and based on the array of gorgeous men stretching in front of us right now, this was the kind of sport I could see myself adopting for the long haul.
Watching tall, athletic men run around—or whatever it was they did—every Sunday? Sign me up.
Music blared through the speakers and people started filing into their seats in the stadium around us. I could see why people liked coming to these kinds of things. The excitement was buzzing throughout the building and the game hadn’t even started yet.
Players began filing into the locker room, and Abel and October sauntered over toward the sideline together. They could complain all they wanted claiming they could never be friends, but the two of them were ever so slowly becoming friends.
By the end of the season, they’d be hanging out at least once a month outside of Friday night dinners—which, if you knew Abel, was about the closest thing he got to best friendship. I’d be willing to bet a couple thousand dollars on it, easy.
Abel picked up his pace as they got closer to us and Scarlett jumped into his outstretched arms, locking their lips together in a passionate kiss like they were the only two people around. They were disgustingly cute together. It made me sick.
October, who was trailing behind Abel, finally caught up and gave the two of them a side-eyed once-over as they kissed again… and again… and again. When our eyes met, he shot me a lifted brow that I reciprocated with a shrugged shoulder.
Scarlett and Abel broke apart to look over at us, and at that exact moment October grabbed me by the waist with one hand and a handful of my ass with the other as he pulled me closer to him.
“What are you—’
Within a second he was giving me a big, slobbery kiss on the cheek. Exaggerated kissing noises and all.
How revolting.
“Eww, get away from me.” I pushed October away playfully to which he flung his head back in an amused chuckle, although his hands stayed firmly planted on my body.
After his fit of laughter died down, he tugged me in closer, bending down to whisper in my ear. “Funny you say that, considering you were begging me to bury myself inside you a few nights ago.”
My breath hitched, but I tried to conceal it with a cough.
October drug his attention over to the two love-birds. “That’s what the two of you look like, by the way.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at me, shooting me a pleased smile. I rolled my eyes and shoved October away, flicking my fingertips to shoo him toward the locker room.
“Thanks for the good luck kiss, March baby.”
“I hope you break every bone in your body,” I muttered with disgust coating my voice.
“Ma’am.” A muscular security guard called over from a few feet away in a firm voice. “Threatening the players is a removable offense. Do it again, and you’ll be escorted out off the sidelines.”
I had to fight not to roll my eyes as my shoulders slumped forward. How did things like this always happen to me? At least this wasn’t as embarrassing as the one time I accidentally robbed a bank, which was an honest mistake. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.
“Sorry, officer,” I mumbled under my breath.
October looked back over his shoulder before disappearing underneath the tunnel and shot me a sly wink which made my heart skip a beat.
Fortune was walking next to October, and I watched as he snuck a glance back at Lea too. I could’ve sworn I saw a little twinge of a smile on his lips. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I had a strange feeling there was something going on between those two that she wasn’t telling us about.
Back at home, I stared at myself in the floor length mirror in the beauty room, taking in the weirdness of seeing me wearing a jersey with October’s number on it one last time before changing into a sleep shirt.
Right then, an idea sparked in my mind and I instantly pulled out my phone and snapped a picture before uploading it to Socialgram without a caption. What could I say? Sometimes it was fun leaving the people wondering. Scrambling to find the hidden subtext in the silence even if there was nothing there in the first place.
Within a minute, there were at least one hundred comments speculating dating rumors between the two of us. I couldn’t help my burst of laughter as I scrolled through some of them.
@sunshinegirl0927: OH. MY. GOD. ARE YOU DATING OCTOBER CALHOUN?!?!
@sugardaddydan: Unfollow. I thought you were single. I can’t believe you’d lead on your loyal followers like this. #whore
@scarlettsawyer: *curious eye emoji*
@knights_football98: The Matrix suck. Go Knights!
@fansofmaegarten: They’re not dating. The two of them have been friends since they were kids.
@gwendolynmarie6323: @fansofmaegarten not true. Someone posted a picture at her birthday party a few weeks ago and she was sitting on his lap in the background.
With a smug smile plastered on my lips, I thumbed out a response to the last comment.
@maegarten: @gwendolynmarie6323 I was consoling him because he couldn’t handle the attention being on someone other than himself for a night.
I set my phone down against the comforter, but almost as soon as I did it buzzed with a new notification.
@octobercalhoun has reposted your photo to his story.
Half a second later, a ping came through on my phone from none other than the devil himself and I threw my head back in laughter as I read his text.
Oh, naive October Calhoun.
I’ve got you right where I want you.
