“Look, Indy. That man in there holds my future in his hands. I can’t exactly go tell him I lied to his face. He just told me he doesn’t think I’m cut out to lead this team. That I’m not approachable and that I spend too much time alone.”
“Sounds like he knows you too well.”
“I need his support. I can’t spend the rest of my career playing for a GM who doesn’t think I’m the right man for the job. I just need you to go to this event with me, get his wife to fall in love with you, and Ron will change his mind about me. Caroline is his weak spot. If she’s a fan, then he will be too.”
Indy laughs. “And you call me emotional and dramatic.”
“I’ve never once called you dramatic.”
“I know.” She pops her shoulder. “I added that in because I wanted a reason to call you dramatic. Which you are. Go take that robotic personality of yours and set him straight.”
I take a deep breath. “Indy. It’s one night. One event. Help me out here.”
“No. That’s so weird! I can’t pretend to be your girlfriend.”
Okay, I lied. She is dramatic. This isn’t a big deal. “Do you want me to get on my knees and beg or something?”
“Now that you say it.” She cocks her head to the side, eyes roaming my length. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what you look like on your knees, Shay.”
“Indy, please.”
“This is ridiculous. We can talk about it when you get home.”
“Perfect. Great. All I’m asking for is one night.”
“Go get me your key so I can go crash in my new expensive bed.”
“What an amazing guy to buy you a bed. Probably makes you want to return a favor. He seems like a wonderful person.”
Indy rolls her eyes. “He’s on my shit list at the moment.”
7
RYAN
Our first game on the road was a success. I had a triple-double which doesn’t happen all that often. I have no problem with scoring or assists, I lead my team in both those categories, but rebounding is a different game. At 6’3” I’m tall in the real world, but when it comes to the NBA, I’m one of the smaller guys in the league. My body takes a pounding anytime I drive the lane, but the aches are worth it whenever I sneak past a big man or hit a three over a 6’8” beast.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling last night’s game though. My shoulder has been screaming at me all morning after too many missed calls. I don’t know if it’s because of my height or what, but some games I’m not given the respect of calls made on dangerous plays. Fouls that would be a flagrant for any other MVP nod aren’t even called for me, and the resulting body pain catches up to me the next day.
But worse than my shoulder, my brain has been in overdrive since I left Chicago. I’ve never allowed someone to stay in my home who wasn’t my sister, and I don’t know if I can trust Indy yet. She doesn’t seem malicious, and Stevie trusts her, but people can surprise you. Giving her unbridled access to my apartment is overwhelming to say the least. I had to keep myself from calling my twin and asking her to crash there while I was out of town, but I know Stevie would’ve been disappointed in my unearned distrust of her friend.
So, as I make my way home, the only thing bouncing around my brain is the hope that Indy didn’t find something she could use against me later or information she could sell to make a quick buck. I’m aware of my paranoia, but it’s not without reason and someone in my position always needs to watch their back. I can’t let my guard down.
Grabbing the key from under the mat, I go inside. The apartment is quiet but fully lit. It’s early, and the sun is starting to peek though the buildings of downtown Chicago, but it’s not enough to illuminate the space. Apparently, Indy left every single light on last night before she went to bed, which is just wonderful. Not only did I earn a new roommate, but it’s one that’s going to hike up my electrical bill.
Something feels different inside. I don’t know if it’s because there’s a woman sleeping in the other room, but the energy around me has changed. As my eyes slowly adjust, I find pops of color which I know don’t belong to me.
A light purple knitted blanket thrown over the couch.
A pink reusable coffee cup with a straw sits by my mug.
So many goddamn throw pillows on my couch, there’s no room left to sit.
There are yellow curtains with fucking pom-pom balls pushed to the edge of my panoramic window.
Green. So much greenery between the succulents on my bookshelf and the giant leafy tree in the corner by the window.
Speaking of my bookshelf, it’s a fucking rainbow. My books are completely rearranged, and the amount seems to have doubled in size since I left. Indy has taken my well-thought-out and organized bookshelf and made it look like a unicorn threw up on it as it goes from red to purple, sorted by color. What god-awful reason should Investing 101 be sandwiched between two books with shirtless men on the covers? Because they’re all orange?
And why the fuck are there naked dudes on my bookshelf?
She’s a romantic. Of course, she’s a goddamn romantic. She waited six years for a proposal that never came. She likes flowers and girly clothes. I should’ve known.
I circle my apartment in a frenzy. This was a mistake, letting her move in. Forty-eight hours alone and she’s taken over. Everywhere I look there’s a piece of her. Something she touched or changed. Color decorates every nook and cranny, but overall, there’s so much fucking Blue.
I hate it. I can physically feel the control slipping away. My usual even-keeled composure is crawling with anxious thoughts, and I need my space back. I need it to be mine.
“Indy!” I yell into the silence. I don’t give a fuck that it’s the ass crack of morning. I need to fix this. “Indigo, wake up!”
“What happened to being quiet when you come home from road trips? I’m sleeping!”
I pound on her door. “Indy, I swear to God if you don’t get out here, I’m coming in your room.”
“Please do! I sleep naked.”
Oh.
Heavy breaths keep words from coming out. Hands rest on either side of her doorframe as the image invades my mind. Her, naked. In my house. In the bed I bought her. Heat mixes oddly with the frustration thrumming through my body and the arousal is so sudden and so heady I’m almost lightheaded from the blood rushing south. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve seen a woman’s naked flesh, but my body angrily reminds me with a jolt of my cock that it’s been far too fucking long.
Pushing those images away, I take a centering breath. Her most likely flawless naked body is the last thing I need to think about.
She opens the door, fully dressed in pajamas, startling me, and pulling me out of my daydream. “I knew that’d work. A naked woman in your house is practically your biggest fear.” She ducks under my arm and heads to the kitchen. “I know you did not just wake me up without bringing me coffee.”
“What the fuck happened to my apartment?”
“What are you talking about?” She keeps her back to me as she turns on the coffee maker.
“Why is all your shit all over the place?”