Twenty pics of cute dogs later, I manned up and slipped the test out, folded it open, and…holy fuck. I stared at the number on the top right-hand corner as I searched for Rory’s name, then pressed Call.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey, how did you—”
“Ninety-eight percent,” I blurted.
Silence.
“Really?” he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.
“Yup. Want me to take a screenshot?”
“No, I believe you. That’s awesome. Congratulations. I’m proud of you, baby.”
Maybe it was throwaway praise, but I basked in the sentiment like a starving man presented with his first decent meal in months. And yes, I especially loved how easily that last word rolled off his tongue. My cheeks felt suddenly warm to the touch as my goofy grin spread like wildfire across my face.
“Thanks. I think this is a good sign.”
“I do too. Were you tired today? You didn’t get much sleep last night.”
That was an understatement. I fell asleep in his arms and I didn’t crawl out of bed until three a.m. Correction, it was four. Rory had pulled me backward, coaxing me with lazy kisses on my neck and along my spine until I lay flat on my stomach. He put a condom on and slowly pushed his way inside. He took his time, speaking in a low, seductive voice about all the things he wanted from me. Mainly, my ass. But that worked for me.
I could still feel him hours later, I mused as I shifted on the bench. “I haven’t slept in days, and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault.”
“My fault? I—hang on a sec.” Rory spoke to someone in the background. Something about reps and weight. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of a training session.”
“Oh. I’ll let you go. Call me later.”
“That’s okay. Evan doesn’t mind if—”
“Evan!” I croaked. “You called me ‘baby’ in front of Evan. My old teammate? That Evan?”
“Dude. Chill.”
“Don’t call me ‘dude’ and don’t tell me to ‘chill,’ ” I hissed, pacing the length of the bench and back again.
“Can I tell you to relax? You’re blowing up for no reason. I excused myself and walked away. He can’t hear me. But even if he could hear, I never said your name.”
“Oh. Right.” I sighed heavily, then picked up my backpack and flopped gracelessly onto the bench. “Sorry.”
“Quit apologizing and go throw a football around or something. Don’t you have practice?”
“No. We have a bye this week. Coach gave us the afternoon off.”
“Oh. Then come here.”
“Where?”
“I’m at the Y. I’m teaching an after-school camp for kiddos, and then I’ll be free to teach you.”
“No way. I just aced a test and I’d like to rest on my laurels for at least twenty-four hours before I have to come back to earth. So unless you want my company for other reasons…”
“Yeah, I want all those other reasons,” he said in a sexy, low voice. “And I want to teach you some wrestling moves too.”
I kicked at a pebble next to my foot and frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re wound too tight. Pumping iron or running on a treadmill isn’t gonna help. You need to get some of that energy out. I’ll text you the address. Traffic might suck right now, but I’ll see you within the hour.”
“Whoa. I can’t wrestle, Rory.”
“Not yet, but you can learn. And if it’s too hard or you’re just not in the mood, we’ll take a Zumba class and grab dinner after. What d’ya say?”
I chuckled. “Have you ever taken a Zumba class?”
“Yep. And I’m awesome. But I’m better at wrestling. I gotta go. See you, baby.”
He hung up before I could respond. And I wasn’t sure I could think that fast anyway. Wrestling? Zumba? Baby? He was probably kidding. Maybe about everything. Rory had an irreverent sense of humor with no real rhyme or reason. He might be teasing me to see what I chose to believe, like it might reveal something about my psyche. He was way more intuitive than I would have thought. But I couldn’t figure him out if I didn’t try.
Every YMCA I’d ever been to had the same wholesome vibe regardless of the location. A few of my friends used to go to the one in our neighborhood to hang out after school until their parents got home from work. My mom stayed home, so I didn’t have a reason to go until I insisted on joining a local basketball league that practiced in the Y’s gym. My folks had snobbish views regarding sports. If I was going to play a sport, they would have preferred golf or tennis. I tried those and I was decent enough, but I liked being on a team. There was something satisfying about being part of a system where each person’s contribution mattered. Regardless of my skill level, I felt that sense of community every time I stepped onto a basketball court or a baseball or football field. And I felt it the second I walked into the Long Beach YMCA.