Nikki texted me separately aWTF? How are these your friends?text. Similar to when I sent her my own version once I realized that Amelia’s husband, Evan, was Evan Fucking Cooper, tech billionaire extraordinaire.
It’s safe to say that I’m never picking up a bill with this crew.
Funnily enough, once the introductions got out of the way, the group chat was firing off as if we’d known each other for years. All of our senses of humor blending in a way that made me feel like I could really be myself with these women rather than worry about being perceived the wrong way. And from what I can tell, it seems like they feel the same way.
My phone ringing on my bedroom desk brings me out of my thoughts and rushing back to the present.
Shit, is it ten p.m. already?
Mateo had an evening game, so he wished Anna good night when she got out of school. He mentioned that he’d be calling me later to report in on his homework.
For a second, I thought he was teasing.
The man has been traveling and playing a professional sport all day. Clearly, he could do with some relaxation time.
But as I pick up my phone and bring it back to bed where I’ve been lounging, I can confirm it’s him, and I can confirm it’s a video call, not a phone call coming through. Shit.
I shimmy a bit under the covers and bring the blanket over my chest a bit.
Now that Mateo is gone at away games, my flimsy pajamas have made it back into the rotation. And I don’t think that giving him a screen full of nipple is on the agenda for tonight.
Although with the way he was looking at me last night, I doubt I’d hear any complaints.
I swipe to answer the call, and his gorgeous, smiling face comes into view.
Try as I might, a small sigh escapes me at the sight of him. And at the easy smile that seems to be directed at me more and more.
“Well, don’t you look cozy? Must be a sweet teaching job if you get to do it from bed, Isabella.”
“Hi to you too, Mateo.” I squint slightly and realize the tops of his shoulders are bare. “And it seems to me like you’ve shown up for class shirtless. Not a very good way to kick off your lessons,” I scold playfully.
He looks down at his chest, then back up at me, smiling mischievously. “And here I thought I could get some extra credit.” He moves the screen back and props it against something so his full upper chest is on display. He seems to be sitting at a desk with a notepad and paper. If I weren’t too busy squeezing my thighs under the blanket, I would find the sight extremely endearing.
“And here I thought this was a nip-free zone, Mateo,” I chide as I raise the blanket over my chest a bit more. His eyes snag on the movement.
“Then maybe it’s time we stop making assumptions about what we’re doing and start calling it how it is.”
His eyes flare slightly as I bite my bottom lip. He clears his throat before he shakes his head slightly and continues. “Besides, have you forgotten that we’ve already vacationed together? I was shirtless 90 percent of the time we were in the DR.” His brow quirks. “Or can you not concentrate under these conditions?” He smirks arrogantly.
I tilt my head. “I guess a little nip never hurt nobody.”
He groans. “Isabella, can we please start talking Spanish now, because all this talk about nipples is affecting me in a way that makes me glad I’m sitting under a desk.”
I burst out laughing, releasing the blanket and letting it fall slightly. “All right, Martinez, let’s get to work.”
For the next five nights, we repeat our nightly “classes.”
It always starts off the same. We joke around and tease each other for our nightly attire, then get into the word of the day.
Surprisingly, Mateo is less shy about the whole thing than I would have imagined. He tries repeatedly to pronounce the words I gave him correctly and presents me with a sentence he’d like me to show him how to say.
We usually go back and forth for about half an hour before he’s satisfied with his progress. Seems like his competitive streak doesn’t end when he leaves the baseball field. He wants to be the very best when he’s trying out new words, especially ones I throw into a sentence he hasn’t practiced before.
It’s quite impressive, how quickly he’s picking it up. But I truly live for the moment when he fumbles a word, because he makes the most adorable face when he’s confused or stuck.
By the time we’re done, we stay on the call for a couple of minutes, asking each other how our days were.
I usually stick to conversations about Anna, and he usually keeps it about his daily schedule.
