Chapter Twenty-One — Staying Over-Rowan
1497 Words
Practice had exhausted me.
Completely.
By the time we finally finished, my legs felt heavy, my shoulders were sore, and I honestly wanted nothing more than a shower, food, and sleep.
The problem was that my phone had been distracting me all evening.
Because of one person.
Richard.
Earlier, after practice had started, he had texted me.
Richard: I miss you.
I had stared at those three words for probably thirty seconds.
Then I’d smiled like an i***t.
It had been two weeks since I’d actually seen him.
Two weeks since I had walked into his office crying, confessed that I liked him, and ended up being kissed by him.
Since then, we’d talked almost every day.
Texting.
Calling.
Checking in.
Flirting.
A lot of flirting.
But we hadn’t actually been together in person.
And I missed him.
More than I wanted to admit.
So I decided to do something I normally did anyway.
I was going to tell Mom I was spending the night at Marcus’s house.
That wasn’t unusual.
Marcus and I had been friends for years. During the season, we’d sometimes spend time at each other’s places, especially before a rest day.
Except this time, I wasn’t actually going to Marcus’s.
I found him after practice and pulled him aside.
“Hey.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Can you tell Mom I’m staying at your place tonight?”
Marcus stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow’s my rest day.”
“You can tell her yourself.”
“I know.”
I gave him a look.
“Just do it.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Then suddenly his expression changed.
“Oh.”
“What?”
He grinned.
“Is this because you’re going out with Gigi?”
I almost choked.
“What?”
“I knew it.”
“You knew what?”
“I knew that was a thing.”
I stared at him.
Marcus looked entirely too pleased with himself.
I didn’t say anything.
I just smiled.
He pointed at me.
“See! That smile!”
I laughed.
“Just tell Mom I’m staying at your house.”
“I knew it.”
“Marcus.”
“Fine.”
He laughed.
I didn’t correct him.
I didn’t tell him where I was actually going.
And I definitely wasn’t going to tell my mother.
Later, Mom called.
“You’re staying at Marcus’s tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“And tomorrow too?”
“Yeah. It’s my rest day.”
She didn’t sound suspicious.
“Okay. so you riding home with Marcus after practice .”
“Yeah.”
I smiled.
“After practice.”
“Okay. Just make sure you rest.”
“I will.”
That was it.
Easy.
Too easy.
I went back to my room and sat on the edge of my bed.
Then I opened Richard’s conversation.
I stared at the screen.
I typed.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted it again.
Finally, I sent:
Me: You said you miss me.
His reply came quickly.
Richard: I do.
My heart jumped.
Me: Can I stay with you tonight? And tomorrow?
There was a pause.
Then:
Richard: Are you sure?
I smiled.
Me: Yes.
Another pause.
Richard: I’ll pick you up.
I stared at the message.
Then I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
I knew the tension between us had been building.
For two weeks.
Every call.
Every late-night conversation.
Every teasing message.
Every time Richard said something in that deep, calm voice of his.
I wanted to see him.
I wanted to be around him.
And, honestly, I wanted to know what would happen when we were finally in the same room again.
⸻
Practice ran late.
Very late.
Normally, we’d finish the main practice around seven or eight, but because tomorrow was a rest day, the coaching staff decided to use the extra time.
Film.
Tactical movement.
Drills.
Planning.
Adjustments.
By nine, I was exhausted.
I had barely finished putting my things together when my phone rang.
Richard.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Are you done?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m outside.”
My heart immediately jumped.
I looked toward the doors.
“You are?”
“I’m outside.”
“Okay.”
I grabbed my duffel bag.
Marcus called after me.
“Wait up!”
I turned around.
“I need to go.”
“Where?”
“My Uber is here.”
He frowned.
“Why do you like Uber so much?”
I laughed.
“Because I like being a passenger princess.”
He burst out laughing.
“You’re ridiculous.”
I smiled.
“Bye.”
I hurried outside before he could ask another question.
The car was waiting.
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Richard.
Sitting in the back seat.
Black suit.
Black shirt.
Tablet in his hands.
He looked exactly like the man I had missed.
Professional.
Polished.
Calm.
Beautiful.
I climbed into the car.
“Hi.”
He looked up.
His expression softened immediately.
“Hi.”
I closed the door.
He glanced at me.
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
“Long practice?”
“Very.”
He nodded.
Then his eyes returned to the tablet.
I could see he was still working.
He was scrolling through documents and typing something.
I didn’t want to interrupt him.
So I sat quietly.
The driver pulled away from the arena.
For several minutes, neither of us said anything.
But it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was strangely comforting.
Just being beside him again was enough.
Eventually, he reached over and took my hand.
I looked down.
His fingers wrapped around mine.
He didn’t stop working.
He just held my hand.
I smiled.
⸻
When we arrived at his house, I followed him inside carrying my duffel bag.
Richard looked at me.
“Can I get maybe an hour?”
“Of course.”
“I have one more meeting.”
I nodded.
“You can work.”
He pointed toward the stairs.
“Go upstairs. Shower. Change.”
Then he added casually,
“You can take anything from my closet.”
I looked at him.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
I smiled.
“Okay.”
I went upstairs.
I had been to Richard’s house before, but somehow it felt different this time.
Maybe because I knew I was staying.
Maybe because I knew I would wake up here tomorrow.
Maybe because after everything that had happened between us, being in his home felt more personal.
I walked into his bedroom.
Everything was exactly how I expected.
Sophisticated.
Simple.
Expensive without trying to look expensive.
Gray.
Black.
Clean lines.
Nothing unnecessary.
The entire room looked like Richard.
Quiet.
Mature.
Controlled.
I smiled to myself.
Then I walked into the bathroom.
The same style continued.
Black finishes.
Dark gray stone.
Everything sleek.
Even the soap smelled expensive.
I laughed quietly.
“Of course.”
I showered, letting the hot water loosen the soreness in my muscles.
Afterward, I opened his closet.
I found a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a T-shirt.
I changed.
The clothes were obviously too big.
The shirt hung loosely on me.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I was wearing Richard’s clothes.
That thought made my stomach flip.
I shook my head.
“Get yourself together.”
I went downstairs.
Richard was still working.
He was sitting in the living room with his laptop and tablet open, his phone beside him.
He looked up.
And stopped.
His eyes moved over me.
Slowly.
Not disrespectfully.
Just enough for me to notice.
I suddenly became very aware that I was wearing his clothes.
“What?”
He looked at me for another second.
“Nothing.”
I smiled.
“You were staring.”
“I was looking.”
“Same thing.”
He smiled slightly.
“You look comfortable.”
“I am.”
He closed his laptop halfway.
“Good.”
I walked over and sat on the sofa.
He looked at me.
“You hungry?”
“A little.”
“I’ll order something.”
I nodded.
Then I looked around the room.
For some reason, being here felt different tonight.
Maybe because I wasn’t leaving in an hour.
I wasn’t going home after dinner.
I wasn’t rushing anywhere.
Tomorrow was my rest day.
I was here.
With him.
And neither of us had to pretend that we didn’t know what was happening between us anymore.
Richard reached for his phone.
“What do you want to eat?”
I looked at him.
“Whatever you want.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That’s dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what I want.”
I smiled.
“What?”
He looked directly at me.
“You.”
My heart stopped.
He smiled when he saw my reaction.
And suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore.
Not even a little.
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