Clearly, he didn’t factor in his best friend breaking into his apartment and baking brownies for him while he’s flying home from winning a playoff game! Yep, they won, but it was a tight one. I don’t think I have any fingernails left. The score wasn’t the only thing keeping me on edge though. Nathan seemed really off during the first quarter. He finally settled in and threw four touchdowns, but still, he didn’t quite seem like himself.
I watched the game from his couch and screamed so loud through most of it that I won’t be surprised if he tells me he could hear me at the stadium. There was one play where he got sacked, a really hard hit on a fourth down, and I held my breath until I saw him stand up and walk unassisted to the bench. Other than that moment, he played a solid game. I doubt anyone else was able to notice the difference in him, but I did. Any time the camera zoomed in on his face, I could see something lurking in his eyes that made me nervous. It was more than his usual focused look—he looked sad. Or maybe it was tired? Or worried?
I don’t know, but I’m making him brownies to celebrate and cheer him up. He won’t want to eat them because of his nutritional regimen, but I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to remind him that there is life and fun and sweet things outside of football and broccoli.
Honestly, I used to be just like him. I would do whatever it took to be the best, to perform my best. I didn’t realize how burnt out I was until I had to take a year-long healing break, only doing basic physical therapy to regain use of my knee after surgery. Not until I was forced to rest and seek out new ways to entertain myself in life was I able to see how I hadn’t actually been enjoying ballet anymore. I had become a task-oriented robot that was obsessed with making it to the next level, no matter the cost.
Now, I try to not take life too seriously. I believe in working hard but taking breaks. Resting. Goofing off and eating yummy carbs occasionally. Yeah, they almost always go to my hips, but I choose to believe it only makes them more squeezable.
The oven beeps, telling me it’s preheated, and the batter is mixed and waiting patiently on the counter. All I need now is that pretty little glass dish sitting wayyyyyy up there. Hey, God, it’s me, Bree—do you mind handing me that 9x13 baking dish right there by you?
It’s fine. I’ll just climb up there like all of us short people learned to do when we stopped growing at the age of twelve. I hook my heel up on the counter then use every muscle in my body to hoist myself up there. Turns out, this was easier when I was twelve. I didn’t snap, crackle, and pop as much back then.
I’m up here just about to grab the dish when I hear the front door open and close.
“NO!” I yell dramatically while quickly moving the smaller glass dishes out of the one I need, hoping I can scramble down with my loot before Nathan can see me up here and make fun of me.
I’m not fast enough.
He turns the corner and I peer at him over my shoulder, arms above my head, fingers clutching the baking dish. He’s wearing black Nike joggers and a matching hoodie. A Sharks flat-billed hat sits backward on his fine, gorgeous head. Nathan always dresses in the finest tailored suits to arrive at games, but he goes for comfort on the flights home. And believe me, comfort looks good on him. There’s something about a man not trying at all but still exuding confidence and strength that is undeniably sexy. It’s in the way he casually drops his duffle bag in the middle of the floor. Tosses his keys onto the marble countertop with a lazy flick of his wrist. Looks up at me and tilts his head as his eyes drop to the small sliver of my exposed torso where my shirt has ridden up.
Oh geez, I’m feeling hotter than a widowed duchess in a bodice-ripping historical romance.
He lifts a brow and grins. “Hi. Whatcha doing up there?”
“Just some sightseeing.”
His grin deepens. “Do you always stand on my counters while I’m gone?” He walks through the kitchen to stand behind me.
The air ripples like it always does when he gets near me. Must ignore it! The problem is, we haven’t seen each other much since we agreed to the endorsement deal, so I’ve been able to block it out of my head that we’re going to have to date for the next few weeks. But now, at the sight of him after a full weekend away, my thoughts are screaming HE’S BASICALLY YOUR BOYFRIEND NOW—JUMP HIM!!!