Play Along(67)

Isaiah lifts his giant body off of me, before grabbing a fresh pair of sweatpants and jogging to the bathroom.

He, of course, still doesn’t go for a shirt.

The water runs while he whistles, and I lay on the bed covered in him, stupid goddamn smile on my face and wondering what the hell just happened.

It’s what I asked for—a lesson in intimacy, but what the hell was that? Is that what I’ve been missing out on all these years? That was just foreplay.

He might very well be right. He might ruin me for any man after him and I can’t allow that to happen because all of this is temporary. All of this is practice for what comes after.

Isaiah quickly returns with that boyish smile and a damp towel in his hand.

“I can do it,” I tell him, sitting up and reaching for the cloth.

“Good for you.” He holds it out of my reach. “Now move your greedy little hands and let me clean you up before I wrap them around my cock and we do this all over again.”

“Jesus.” I startle with a laugh.

He cleans himself off me, the towel warm to the touch. He takes his time, his fingers soothing over my skin with every pass of the washcloth.

It’s sweet and kind and gentle. Three words I now associate with this man when once, I could only think of him as cocky, impulsive, and childish.

“Kennedy.” His voice shakes as if he were nervous, keeping his eyes on my stomach as he cleans me up. “Do you think that maybe you would sta—”

The sound of a lock unbolting stops his sentence short. Our eyes shoot to each other, keeping quiet to hear his apartment door open and shut.

Footsteps and keys rattling.

Someone is in his apartment. More footsteps. More people.

“Please ignore the home décor,” the male intruder says. “It was my grandmother’s, but I miss her so much that I just had to keep it all up for sentimental value.”

“That’s sweet,” another voice says—a female voice.

“Yeah.” Followed by a heavy sigh. “She meant the world to me.”

Cody. That voice belongs to Cody.

Isaiah’s eyes go wide as he stands from the bed. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

He makes it to the door before turning around and jogging back to me to place a quick kiss on my lips.

“Don’t.” He holds his hands out as if to say he wants everything to stay exactly as is. “Don’t leave, okay?”

I can’t help but allow my laugh to break free when he storms out of the room, making sure to close his bedroom door behind him, leaving my almost naked self safely inside.

There are voices. Lots of voices. Three, maybe four people. I think one of them is Travis. And the last one has a slight Boston accent.

I take the opportunity to redress, throwing on my T-shirt and slipping on my leggings because I know what Isaiah was going to ask me. He wants me to stay the night, but I need some space. A moment to register what just happened as practice not reality.

There are some passionate words exchanged in the living room. A few “fuck you”s followed by so much drunken laughter.

“Wait, please don’t go,” Cody pleads. “We can go to my real apartment!”

A door slams, followed by it reopening and Isaiah yelling, “His grandmother is alive and well, by the way! She lives in Jersey!”

I open the bedroom door to find Isaiah’s head sticking out in the hallway, those words directed at the girl Cody brought back here and Isaiah ran off.

“Well, that was a bust.” Cody tosses his hands up. “Can I crash here at least? Oh my God, you made spaghetti. This is why we’re best friends!”

Cody, Travis, and Rio—one of the defensemen for the Chicago Raptors, Chicago’s NHL team—gather around the bowl of leftover pasta.

“You can call a rideshare and take that whole bowl with you, but you all need to leave.”

Rio’s mouth is full when he turns around in confusion. “Why?”

“Where the hell did you come from, Rio?”

“I ran into them at the bar. Saw Cody trying to get some girl to go home with him. Well, to your place, and I had to hear what the fuck he was going to say to excuse these god-awful signs. You still got the one I bought you for the bathroom? Hello, sweet cheeks!” He catches me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh. I meant . . . the sign says. I’m sure your cheeks are sweet too, Kennedy, but I was referring to the sign.”

Isaiah shakes his head, listening to his drunk friend spew nonsense. “Shut your fucking mouth. No need for you to be thinking about my wife’s cheeks in any capacity.”

“Yep.” Rio motions as if he were zipping his mouth shut. “Not doing that.”

Cody turns away from the spaghetti, knowing grin on his mouth as his gaze ping-pongs between his best friend and me. “Hello, Mrs. Rhodes.”

I lift a single finger in protest, but my bite feels less sharp than usual. “Watch it.”

“Kennedy!” Travis’s hands go wide, his mouth full and ringed in red sauce. “This is the best night ever.”

“Some girl made out with him on the dance floor,” Cody explains.

“Good for you, Trav!”

Isaiah shoots me a deadpanned glare, mouthing, don’t encourage them, from across the room.

“I’m . . . We’re”—Cody motions to the three of them—“going to leave.”