Page 84 of Play the Last Card
I’m rewarded with a happy, content sigh before she leans back into me.
“There’s nothing here to eat,” I say against her neck. “We’ll have to order in.”
“Why do you have no food?” she asks.
I chuckle, threading a hand around her stomach and pulling her back into me a little further. “Because we never stay here.”
“Oh,” she hums as I press another kiss into her neck. This time I linger, sucking on her skin. “Right, yeah.”
“So what do you feel like?” I say moving my lips up her neck. I bite lightly on her ear lobe and she lets out a whimper.
“Stop that, I can’t concentrate.”
“So don’t.” I try to pull her back into bed but she resists.
Shaking her head, she pulls out of my grasp. “No, we need food. Then round two.”
I give Ivy a pout but as always, she wins. She orders Chinese food and we shower while we wait for it to arrive.
She’s sitting on the couch in my living room, a takeaway box in her hand and aFriendsrerun playing quietly on the TV. She’s wearing a hoodie of mine from college and sweatpants she rolled the waist of multiple times. She’s my fucking dream. One I wasn’t even aware that I had. But as I stare at her, telling me about her day and all the things she did this weekend, I can’t help feeling disappointed that not once did she think to watch my game.
I know she wants to keep our relationship quiet and I know she has a thing about football but come on, if someone told me I could watch her teach day in day out it would become my favorite fucking show.
It would probably be boring as fuck and nothing exciting would likely happen but I’d still jump at the chance to watch her do something that she loves.
“Ives.” I start, interrupting her babbling.
She looks over at me, a sheepish smile curling her lips. “Sorry, I was rambling.”
“It’s okay, I like listening to you talk.” I sit up, pulling the takeaway container from her grasp. When I set it on the coffee table I ask her, “How come you didn’t watch my game?”
I hate how desperate and small my voice is.
She fidgets, her finger twisting together in her lap. “You know—you know I don’t watch games …”
“I know. I know you don’t normally.” I reach out for her hands, stopping her fidgeting. “But you did. With Billy. And I thought … I thought maybe you’d start … after that.”
I feel exposed.
Heat creeps up my neck and suddenly I’m twelve again, trying to tell Sabrina Winkleman I want to take her to a school dance. Fuck, that was a rough day for me.
All through my high school and college careers, never did I lay my feelings on the line for a girl. I got close with my high school girlfriend but we broke up and I just … let it go.
I was the silent, broody type.
Feelings aren’t my strong suit and unless you count my parents, I’ve never said ‘I love you’.
The high school girlfriend? She told me she loved me and I said okay.
There was a girl in sophomore year that I slept with for a few months. I thought it was casual; she thought we were official. When she sat me down to have the ‘what are we’ talk and told me how she felt, I stared at her dumbfounded.
Later after she stormed out of my dorm crying, I felt like an idiot because I actually liked the girl. But instead of just saying that andworking the rest of my fears out with her, I let my thoughts go to football schedules, and classes, and exams, and not having enough time for her, and that she’d hate me because I never put football before her.
Again, I just let it go.
After that, I focused on football and didn’t sleep with the same girl again twice.
Until Ivy.