Jennie hands me a plate of cold pizza. “Will he be okay?”
I devour an entire slice before I answer, mostly because I need time to think. “I’m honestly not sure.” I tried talking to him outside, but he kept putting his hands over his ears and singing, I’m not listening, I’m not listening. He was pretty drunk. I might be able to pretend this was a figment of his imagination.
When I’m finished, I set my plate on the bedside table and yawn.
“Are you leaving?” Jennie takes my hand in hers, tracing the length of my fingers. “Could you stay a while longer? We could cuddle.”
A slow grin spreads up my face. “Cuddle?”
She lifts a shoulder. “If you want.”
“If I want, or if you want?”
“You.” She giggles, slapping my hand away when I reach for her waist.
I crawl toward her. “You know, you’re turning out to be a huge snuggle bear. Who woulda thought?”
“Am not.”
“Admit it, Jennie.” I knock her down to her back, straddling her hips as I loom above her. “You’re a cuddler. You like cuddling with me.”
“Nope.”
“C’mon, Jennie.” I nudge her jaw with my nose. “Admit it.”
“Never.”
For the second time today, my fingers descend on her rib cage, and I watch with pleasure as Jennie writhes below me, shrieking and giggling until she’s breathless.
Laughing, I hug her to me. “I can’t believe I was ever so scared of you.”
“Yes, clearly I need to get my fear factor back.” Jennie snuggles into my side as the tips of my fingers circle her shoulder blades, dancing down her spine, over the back of her waist. “Can I tell you something, Garrett?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t make friends all that easily. I have a hard time trusting people. I’ve learned to be okay with keeping my circle small, but you…you’ve made everything better.” She sleepy blue eyes stare up at me, showing me the vulnerability that lurks beneath them. “I think you’re my best friend.” She drops her gaze to my chest, cheeks radiating with heat. “It would really hurt me to lose you.”
Hooking a finger under her chin, I force her gaze to mine. I don’t know what happened to make friendships so challenging and unattainable for her, to make her trust a prized possession, but the fear is so real for her, the fear that I’ll just leave, that she’ll lose this all.
Is that why she’s refusing to see what’s right in front of her, what we might be able to have? Because she’d rather have me as a friend than nothing at all?
I can’t promise her forever, not when I don’t know what tomorrow holds for us, not when she’s not ready to go down the road that takes us from friends with benefits to something more. But I can promise her one thing.
“Best friends don’t lose each other, Jennie. I’ll be right here, always. I promise you that.”
CHAPTER 21
MY NAME IS GARRETT ANDERSEN, AND I HAVE A HOCKEY BUTT
GARRETT
“Damn, I look good.” Carter pivots, watching himself in the mirror. He tugs on the lapels of his tailored suit jacket. “I’d fuck me.”
He hands his phone to Emmett before he presses his palm to the floor-length mirror, sticks his butt out, and looks back at us over his shoulder. “Take a picture. Gonna send it to Ollie. Let her know what she’s in store for tonight.”
Emmett shoves a stool toward Carter. “Hike your leg up.” His head bobs as he snaps pictures. “Yeah, that’s good. Ollie’ll like that.”
Adam crosses his arms, watching the mini-photoshoot. “Damn, these pants are really good.” He gestures at Carter’s ass in his burgundy suit. “Doesn’t even look like you’re gonna split ’em open, Carter. I’m impressed.”
Carter holds his arms out and drops down to a squat, bouncing. “It’s all the stretch. They’re fantastic. Give it a try.”
We do, all of us. To be clear, it’s our entire team. All twenty-five of us are standing here, fully decked out in designer suits specifically tailored to athletes with muscular lower halves, dropping it low. We get called in for a ton of different marketing and commercial shoots, but I think this might be my new favorite. I look bomb as fuck.
“Fuck.” I place one hand on my thigh, the other on my left ass cheek as I lunge forward. “These are incredible. So comfy.” I sink into the stretch, feeling the burn in my groin, groaning. As a dancer, Jennie’s incredibly flexible. I’m not. She gets these ideas and I go along with them, but if I can be honest, keeping up with her is hard sometimes.
The photographer giggles, snapping my photo. “This is great.” Her raven hair is tied back in a tight pony that hangs halfway down her back. “Forget the posed photos; we should have just let you guys go for it. You’re all naturals.”
When I smile, she grins. Her name is Susie and I’m 99 percent sure she’s been flirting with me for the last hour, mostly ’cause mine is the only suit she seems to think needs to constantly be adjusted. She’s cute, but I haven’t said more than five words to her; there’s a saucy brunette occupying most of the space in my brain.
“You pull your groin?” Carter asks as I straighten and rub at the throbbing spot. “How’d you do that?”
The tips of my ears burn, the back of my neck growing damp, especially when Adam’s eyes meet mine. He hasn’t said a single word to me about New Year’s Eve. Is it possible he forgot, or am I just dense enough to hope so?
Cara promised not to tell anyone, but only on the caveat it was a one-time thing. She was all for it being ongoing but said she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut if it was. I’m surprised she kept her promise. Emmett’s been floating around me for the last week without a clue in the world I’ve had any of my body parts inside Jennie.
“I slipped on ice,” I finally explain, or lie, depending on how you look at it. “Yeah, I slipped, and my legs, they went, like—” I make finger-legs with my pointer and middle fingers, then split them, because apparently, I’m under the impression I slipped requires a visual, “—this. So…yeah. Hurts.”
“Jennie’s got this awesome massage thingie,” Carter says. “I call it the thumper. It beats the shit out of your sore muscles. You should borrow it.”
“I’ll definitely do that, yeah. I’ll borrow her thumper.” Wish I could stop my head from bobbing.
“Get her to show you how to use it. You’re gonna be moaning nonstop.”
Uh-huh. Definitely.
I’m still searching for a response when Adam asks, “What’s the line again?” He fixes his cuffs, eyes moving over himself in the mirror. He’s dressed in all black and looks sharp as fuck.
“My name is Jaxon Riley, and I have a hockey butt,” Jaxon answers.
Adam clears his throat. “My name is Adam Lockwood, and I have a hockey butt.”
I snort. “Add a little flair, at least.”
“Yeah, it’s like this.” Carter rests his palm on the mirror again, looking over his shoulder. “My name is Carter Beckett, and I have a hockey butt.”