Page 125 of Hat Trick
“Two days? What are you talking about?”
His eyes roam over my sweatshirt and I glance down, blushing when I realize I’m wearing the hoodie he gave me that night on Maverick and Emmy’s terrace at team dinner. His gaze tracks downward to my bare legs and the one sock I have on my left foot, the matching one somewhere else in my apartment.
“It’s Friday,” he says gently, and I shake my head.
“It’s Wednesday.”
“No, sweetheart.” He steps into the foyer and I shuffle back, the term of endearment sparking a swarm of butterflies low in my stomach. “It’s Friday.”
“But I…” I turn and look out the living room window. Sunlight floods across the hardwood floor, and I frown. “I’ve been asleep for two days?”
“Apparently. What’s going on?”
“I feel like I’ve been put through a blender.” I motion for him to come all the way inside then shut the door, locking it behind him. I’m lightheaded all of a sudden. Weak on my feet, and I’m afraid I’m going to collapse. “I might be contagious. You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here now. And I’m staying.” He puts a hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I puked all over my bed.” I try to reach for the wall, but Riley is there. Putting my hands on his shoulders and wrapping his arm around my waist. “It might be in my hair. I need to pee. I slept for two days?”
“Norovirus is going around the team, and it sounds like you have the same symptoms. Coach canceled practice, and half the guys have been puking their brains out for days.”
“They can join the club. It’s horrific. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” I pause and swallow down another taste of vomit. “Except the person who started this outbreak.”
“Let’s get you feeling better, and that starts with peeing. I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
“That goes wildly out of the scope of things you need to do for me. In fact, watching me pee will for sure make me unattractive to you, so maybe you should leave. I like your dick.”
“I didn’t say I was going to let you use my hands to pee in.” He laughs. “I’m just helping you get from point A to point B.”
“Riley. I’m?—”
“Fully capable of handling things by yourself. I know that. But guess what? Accepting help doesn’t make you weak, okay? It just means for a few minutes, someone else can help carry the load. And you’ve been carrying the load for me for months. Share the burden with me just this once.”
“Okay,” I whisper, because he’s right. I’m sotiredfrom doing everything on my own, and a helping hand sounds nice for once. “But only if you don’t judge me.”
“I’ve been in locker rooms with disgusting men for years. I can guarantee I’ve seen and heard a lot worse than you engaging in normal bodily functions.”
He doesn’t give me another chance to argue, instead leading me to the bathroom, helping me sit on the toilet, then waiting outside the door. I finish and shuffle over to the sink to wash my hands, blinking at my reflection in the mirror and hardly recognizing myself.
I look like I belong in a horror movie. My skin is pale. My hair is a knotted mess and there’s dried vomit in the corner of my mouth. I sniff, utterly disgusted.
“How are we doing?” Riley asks through the cracked door.
“Better,” I rasp out.
“Good.” He nudges his way back inside and glances at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I look like a troll who lives under a bridge.”
“Have you seen a lot of trolls?”
“No.” I sniff again, but I also want to laugh. “Never.”
“I have, and you’re way cuter.”
“You think so?”
“Ah, Lexi baby. I know so.” Riley points at the vanity to my left. “Where do you keep your hairbrushes? A secret closet with all your other womanly products?”
