“I don’t kiss and tell,” I call back to Thompson from my seat in the exit row.
The entire plane falls silent for a moment before hyena-level laughter takes over the cabin.
“Bullshit!”
“Did you take a hit to the head tonight?”
“That’s your favorite thing to talk about, EZ!” are just a few of the shouts that come from the back of the plane from my teammates. And I don’t miss the heckles from the front of the aircraft where the coaching staff sits either.
“I know you got some action last night,” Rio cuts in. “One second, you were at the bar, and the next, you disappeared. The only time that happens is when there’s a chick involved.”
My eyes dart to Stevie, who is trying to distract herself with meaningless tasks towards the front of the plane as people continue to find their seats. She won’t look at me, but her freckled face has some extra color.
Little does Rio know that I actually got turned down, which hasn’t happened to me since I hit puberty. Last night, the only action I saw was my right hand when I had to jerk one out after walking Stevie home. I had a hard-on pretty much the entire time, from when I pinned her up against the wall to when I took care of it in the shower.
Maddison turns around to face the rest of the guys. “How about instead of wondering where Zee put his dick last night, you guys think about how the fuck you’re going to fix the thirty-eight percent you two averaged in face-off wins tonight.”
“Yes, Captain,” Rio and Thompson say at the same time, the back of the plane finally letting go of the interrogation of how my night went.
For most of the flight to Philly, I’ve kept looking down at my phone, hoping to see that Stevie has accepted my follow request.
Shocking news…she hasn’t.
I even went to use the bathroom at the back of the plane, and when I did, I saw Stevie sitting in the back galley scrolling on her damn Instagram feed.
My Instagram has been flooded, however, with plenty of girls in Philly. I’m still holding out hope that Stevie will figure it out and have one wild night with me, but in case she really doesn’t want to, I have options.
I always have options.
Once the lights are out, and most of the boys are passed out asleep for our red-eye flight, I make my way back to the galley again.
“Need something, Zanders?” Stevie’s blonde coworker asks. Indiana, I think is her name. Or some shit like that.
“Hmm,” I hum in contemplation, trying to make my presence known, trying to get the wild one’s attention. But Stevie doesn’t acknowledge me standing behind her and blocking the entrance to the galley. Instead, she continues to mess around on her phone with her back to me.
“You know what,” her coworker says. “I think I’m going to go find Tara and distract her for a little bit.”
That earns Stevie’s attention as her eyes dart to her coworker. My brows shoot up just the same. Blondie over here is pretty intuitive because I know there’s no way in hell Stevie told her anything. Not after her freak-out last night, thinking there might be some leaked pictures of us “fraternizing.”
The flight attendant sneaks past me, adding a knowing pat on my shoulder, before leaving me alone with Stevie.
“Do you need something?” Stevie asks, still looking down at her phone and not facing me.
I slyly glance back over my shoulder at the rest of the plane, just to make sure no one is paying us any attention. The back galley is relatively dark, so I doubt her coworkers could see us from the front.
With most people asleep and her coworkers distracted, I take slow, leisurely steps to stand behind her, mere inches from her body.
I like being this close to her. I can almost count the freckles that decorate her nose and cheeks from here, plus she smells really fucking good. I’m a bit of a clean freak, but some of my teammates could really use a lesson in the hygiene department.
Stevie stiffens at my movement but refuses to turn around and face me. Placing my hands on the counter in front of us, on either side of her, I cage her in.
I can see the pulse in her neck quickening, but Stevie continues to try to play it cool.
“Need something?” she casually asks, her eyes still down on her phone screen as it sits on the counter in front of us.
I’m not going to make some big deal that I know she’s Ryan Shay’s sister. For some reason, she didn’t want to tell me, so I’m going to keep pretending that I have no idea. Not that it matters either way. If anything, that little fact will put Stevie and me in the same place more than the universe already has. Ryan is a big name in Chicago sports, the same as me. We do a shit-ton of city events together.