Page 59 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss
“I’m Kenzie, Kenzie Sullivan. I’m the reason we’re wet.” She pauses and then says, “And by that, I mean I fell into the water and Trey here thought I was drowning.”
Payton shakes her head. “Dear brother, don’t you know that the pond is like three feet deep?”
I purse my lips as Kenzie gives me a smug look. “Okay, I see your point,” I say, referencing her comment that no one would care about knowing the depth of the pond. Am I the only one in Boston who didn’t know this most random of facts?
“Where to, friendlies?” It’s not hard to see that Payton is eating this up, filing every detail away for when she gets home later. I’ll have to pay her off or something so she doesn’t tell Mom.
“My place,” Kenzie and I say at the same time.
“Sorry, we’ll go to her house first,” I say, pointing to Kenzie.
“That way I can get showered and then get back to work on your house,” Kenzie says, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
Payton pulls out into traffic. “Oh, are you the one organizing Trey’s place?” Kenzie nods and I can see mischief in Payton’s eyes as she looks back at me through the rearview mirror.
Kenzie gives her directions, but Payton leans forward and turns up the music, pretending to rock out as she drives the opposite way.
“Payton,” I say, leaning forward so she can hear me. “What are you doing?”
She reaches back with her hand and pats me on the cheek with her palm, smiling wide. “Just helping you out there, bro.”
I grimace, turning to Kenzie and pleading forgiveness with a look. Payton parks in my driveway and finally turns down the music.
“Have fun you two. Let me know if I can be your ride again sometime.” We get out of the car and she rolls down the passenger side window and calls out, “You should come to family dinner sometime. I’m sure Trey would love to introduce you to everyone.”
And heat rises to my face. One of my friends would’ve been better than this.
“Sorry about her,” I say, trying to break whatever weird tension is between us now. “She is kind of a free spirit and there’s no controlling what she’ll say or do.”
“Well, this way I don’t have to take the train to get here. I just wish I didn’t smell like a pond.” She leans over and takes a sniff of her shirt. From her scrunched nose and pinched lips, I take it the smell is awful.
I open the door and wave for her to enter. “I’ve got a shower and you probably know where my clothes are better than I do at this point. Help yourself to whatever is comfortable or fits.”
Her eyes look glassy for a moment and I’m not exactly sure what that’s about.
“I think I’ll be okay,” she says, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“Are you sure you’re going to survive whatever stench made you make that face?”
She sighs. “You’re right. I’d make the whole place stink. Do you mind if I get in right now?”
“Sure thing. Use the master shower. You know where all the things are anyway.” She disappears into the master bathroom and I stand still, thinking about the events that got us here.
And now the nerves set in. What do I do while I wait for a woman to leave my shower? Instead of letting myself dwell on what happens when she’s in the shower, I glance around at the mess. I left my cereal bowl out on the counter and the last half of the jug of milk. A quick smell test tells me that it’s beyond hope, so I pour it down the drain.
It’s a race to get as much cleaned up as possible before she comes out of the bathroom.
I’m just starting a load of laundry when I see her walk out, wearing a pair of basketball shorts with the waistband folded over a couple times and then the Breeze shirt I’d worn the other day, the one that looked like a crop top on me. It barely touches the top of the waistband of the shorts and I just realize how long I’ve been staring at her middle.
“Um, how was the shower?”
She uses her hands and flicks some of the water out of her hair, causing my brain to malfunction as I watch her.
“I love the house I live in, but that shower is now on my future home bucket list,” she says, pointing her thumb behind her. “There’s so much room.” She’s smiling and again I’m caught on how amazing her eyes are and her smile.
I don’t know why I was so persistent about her coming over tonight, but I didn’t want to be alone. And who better to dissect the odd date with me than the person who was there for it. That’s the reason, I keep telling myself, not that I’m feeling drawn to her all of a sudden.
“It’s one of my favorite things in the house,” I say. I motion for her to take a seat on the couch and it all seems so formal. Kenzie has been in this house several times to work on stuff and now I’m acting like a teenager with a new crush, all awkward and stiff.
