“Nah,” I finally say. “The way you eat is the least of it.”
“Right. What else?”
“Things you can’t fix.” I stand and grab a vanilla yogurt from my fridge. I barely take a spoonful before he moves his chair next to me.
“You gonna share that with me?” I sigh, give him the yogurt and grab myself another.
“So, I’ll have Kendall call you.” He stands and offers me his hand. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement of fact. He doesn’t let go of my hand when he starts to walk back to my bedroom.
“I think we’re having two different conversations here. No men with kids. No celebrities.” He pulls on his jeans, covering his nicely shaped ass. The t-shirt goes on is body next, and I feel as if our little bubble is about to burst.
“And what else? No white guys from Alabama, right.” I look down, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. “I can’t help where I’m from, darlin’, or my race. And I’m not a celebrity. I’m an athlete who’s grateful for every fan. But, yeah, relationships suck.” He grabs my wrist, pulls me into his arms, and holds me tight against his body. “We won’t call it a relationship. Who needs titles? We’re just two people who eat together, make loveonlywith each other and share popcorn while we watch a movie on a Friday night. The fact that you were sprawled on top of me makes no difference.” He takes both of my hands in his and brings them to his lips.
“Colt—”
“Just come to these two home games in a few days. I fly to L.A. tonight. If you can’t come to the away games, come to the ones here. Not as my girlfriend or anythang.”
“Girlfriend? Are you crazy?” I try to break free of him, but he pulls me closer.
He sighs as if I annoy him and says, “I saidnotas my girlfriend. You just don’t listen. No one will even know you’re there for me. You’ll just be a fan. My very own little good luck charm.” He kisses my cheeks, my eyelids, and then my mouth. “That’s it.” He lets me go and raises both hands up. “If we lose, it will be on your head.”
I huff and stare at the ceiling. “I hate basketball,” I tell him while I stomp my feet.
“Other than it being my career, livelihood, and all I’ve known since I was a kid, I totally agree with you. Basketball is the worst. Football is where it’s at.” He looks around the bedroom for his belt. While he puts it on, he says, “And I know we’re not a couple and we don’t need to compromise, but I’ll come to one girly thing of your choice. Like a doily making class or somethin’.”
“A what?”
“A doily. Those white thingies.” When I give him a blank stare he sighs loudly and says, “Mama will explain it better when you two meet.”
“I think you’ve officially lost your mind.”
“If you really want to punish me, drag me for a deep tissue massage. I’d be really mad about that.” He slaps my ass and sits on the bed to pull on his sneakers. “Do you belong to a book club? You look like the type of woman who does.”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I tell him.
“Drag me to one of those. If you really want to punish me, make me read anything by John Grisham. I hate those.” He winks and kisses my cheek. “I know we’re not in a relationship or anything, but if we were, we’d be kicking butt. We got this, darlin’.”
“Am I supposed to come to this game by myself?” He looks up and smiles while he ties his shoes.
“Bring a friend. Afemalefriend,” he stresses. “Workout the details with Kendall, but I have to go.” He bows dramatically, and a piece of his hair falls on his forehead. “My queen, my liege. Until we meet again.” He kisses me deeply and walks out of the bedroom and out of my apartment.
I drop myself on the bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering just what the hell I got myself into. Last night was supposed to be a night of fun and sex, the type of night I promised myself more of. The type of night where I indulge in carnal pleasure without the shackles of commitment, but I don’t think Colt Chastain understands what casual sex is.
I reach over to my nightstand and grab my phone. There’s already a text from Colt.
Colt: I’m not thinking about you.
Me: Aren’t you driving?
Colt: Worrying about my safety is a girlfriend’s job. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
I send him an eye roll emoji.
Colt: I have a driver.
Me: Must be nice.
Colt: I’ll get you your own. Just say the word.
