“And the guy on the cover would have hair blowing in the breeze, overly dramatic sex eyes, and…” I run my hand up his chest. It’s probably toeing the line of flirtation, but since I put myself in this ridiculous position, I let myself have fun for half a second.
Intensity grows in his eyes, and I immediately regret the decision to say something even mildly flirtatious. It makes my brain see things that aren’t there.
“And what?” he asks, voice… husky?
Nope. I’m imagining that too.
I need to break whatever this weird moment is before it breaks me.
Moving my hand over, I say, “And… a smooth chest.” Then I rip another wax strip off his chest as I stand up.
“Why?” he groans.
“That’s what you get for wanting to live with me.”
“Regretting all my life choices.”
“Took you long enough,” I say as I walk back to my room, leaving the green juice to fester on the counter.
Hardy shiftsin his seat next to me on the airplane as we head down south for our game tomorrow.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Are you still annoyed at me? You were going to pull the wax strips off anyway. I just helped you along. I’m sure your chest is smooth as a baby’s butt now.”
He scrunches his face. “Why is that a saying?”
“Why do you shave your chest? Why do we exist? The great questions of life remain unanswered.”
“Wow. And I thought you were supposed to be the wise, prophetic one.”
I shrug. “What can I say? You bring out my immaturity.”
He pouts at that.
“You should’ve had more than green muck for breakfast. I told you, you get hangry.”
He glares at me. “I don’t get hangry.”
“Wow, could you two sound more like an old married couple?” TJ, our cornerback, says from across the aisle.
I snort at that, but Hardy folds his arms over his chest as he looks at me. “You’d be lucky to be with someone as awesome as me.”
“You two have really gotten worse since you moved in together,” Beckett, one of our running backs, says.
“That literally just happened.”
“My point exactly,” Beckett says. “You’ve taken bromance to a whole new level.”
TJ smacks him on the arm, laughing. “The bromance part two: bro harder.”
“All I’m hearing is that you’re jealous,” Hardy says, that cocky shit-eating smirk on his lips.
“So jealous of staying home all the time instead of going out and getting my dick wet. I live the worst life,” Beckett says.
From the row in front of them, Wendell Pierce, one of our team captains and all-around good guy, says, “That’s enough. You’re starting to sound like assholes now.”
“Starting to?” I mutter under my breath.
I move to put my headphones back over my ears, but Hardy’s hand splaying over my thigh stops me.
