Hayes
There was something so satisfying knowing you were watching. I feel like I put on the performance of my life trying to impress you.
Jersey
Well, color me impressed, #18. Really.
He shoots me a hand hearts emoji and I smile like a dork down at my screen. I swear if anyone could see me now, they’d suspect I was some high school girl in love rather than a twenty-eight-year-old woman. I am ecstatic, high on the thrill of talking with such an enigmatic man.
Nibbling on my thumbnail, I decide to be brave and take the leap of faith Bethany mentioned.
Jersey
Do you want to FaceTime?
Hayes wastes no time, sending me a response quickly.
Hayes
Do I ever! Let me get home and I’ll call you.
My stomach twists in a blend of nerves and excitement. Bethany’s words from last week echo in my mind from earlier.
See where it goes. What have you got to lose?
I can do that.
The next hour seems to tick by at a snail’s pace, but finally my phone vibrates with his call. My finger hovers over theacceptbutton. I take a deep breath, count down from three, and press my thumb to the screen.
Here goes nothing.
TEN
jersey
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22
Seconds later,Hayes’s face appears on my screen and my stomach flips. I bite into my lower lip, my eyes scanning his features and memorizing how he looks right now.
He’sso handsome.
Even after pushing himself to the physical brink to claim the win tonight, he’s as good-looking as ever. His amber eyes are alight with happiness as they flicker over my face. The only evidence I can make out that he might be slightly worn out is the way his eyes are crinkled in the corners, like he’s pushing the exhaustion to the back of his mind for now so he can focus on me.
“Hi,” I whisper first, breaking the silence.
His mouth pulls into a crooked smirk, and again, my chest flutters. “Hey there.”
His voice is gruff, tired, and I ache to know what his voice would sound like late at night or first thing in the morning. What would the sound of his gravelly tone whispering my name into the darkness do to me?
Hayes is lounging in his bed, comfortable against some fluffy pillows, and I briefly have a mental image of me usinghimas a pillow. Would those muscular pecs be comfortable to lie on? Or his built shoulders?
“Congratulations on the win,” I say with a grin. Padding through the house, I make my way to my bedroom and fall onto the mattress. “Are you too tired to talk?”
Hayes stretches an arm above his head, his biceps flexing with the movement. My mouth goes dry, seeing the strong bulge of his muscular form. He’s not wearing a shirt, his broad shoulders and chest bare. The dormant, sexual side of me slowly awakens and I find myself feeling a bit more confident. What would it feel like to have those massive biceps circle around me and hold me close?
“I’m never too tired to talk to you,” Hayes says, then is overtaken by a yawn. I laugh and he gives me a sheepish look. “How was your day?”
I’m lying on my belly on top of my bed, and I bend my knees, crossing my ankles together in the air. Hayes’s eyes track my movement, darting away from my face for a second before returning to me. I fight off a sly smile.
