Page 74 of The Overtime Kiss
Just for a second.
I could check out his room. Just a quick glance.What would that hurt?
But what if he has a camera in there? And wouldn’t I deserve to get fired for sneaking around his bedroom like a curious cat?
I keep walking away.
Except...when I pass his room, I linger.
Just a little.
His bed is muted green, the pillows a dark gray. The nightstand has a couple of books and a phone holder.
I inhale sharply and force myself to walk away.
Back downstairs.
Back to reality.
I settle in at my laptop, editing some of the videos I shot last week. Then, I post one of my morning routines—a long session where I skated like my soul was on fire.
Pretty sure I was thinking about Tyler.
My phone alarm dings. I hop upstairs, switch my clothesto the dryer, and start the sheets. Once I move them into the dryer, I have to take off for my afternoon lessons.
By the time I leave, he’s still not home.
It’s for the best. Truly. It is.
Late that night, with the stars winking in the sky, the garage opens.
Then the door to the house.
I hear his footsteps, and my chest tightens.
I already checked the score. They didn’t win.
Tomorrow, he’ll be gone on a road trip. That’ll be a good thing. I’ve made it through the week, pretending nothing happened.
I curl up on the couch with my coaching strategies book, trying to focus, but I’m mostly listening to the house.
I know the moment he goes upstairs. The moment he gets into bed.
I yawn, stretching. It’s probably time for me to go to sleep too.
But when I walk into my bedroom, I curse.
I forgot to grab my sheets from the dryer earlier today. They’re my favorites, so I’ll just quietly grab them. No big deal.
I tiptoe upstairs, careful not to make a sound.
The house is dark and quiet, the carpet soft beneath my toes as I move to the second floor, then tiptoe along the hall toward the dryer.
I pull it open, grab the now cool sheets, then quietly pad back down the hall when I hear anoise.
A low grunt from his bedroom.
With the sheets in my hands, I freeze.
