Out on the Serve (Out in College 7)

“Not tonight, silly. But does that mean you wouldn’t be opposed to going on a blind-ish date with someone soon?”

I moved into the next aisle and nearly ran into a frantic businessman. He apologized as I sidestepped around him. “No problem. It’s okay,” I said to him.

“Yay! That’s awesome. In the meantime, you can help me weed out creepers on the dating app I’m trying out. I’ll take Cherry Garcia, please. See you in ten!”

She disconnected the call before I had a chance to reply. I didn’t want to go home yet, and sitting in my car eating two pints of ice cream alone in the dark sounded…sad. I glanced at the rows of neatly stacked cereal and grabbed a box of oatmeal. I was about to head back to the frozen aisle for Sophie’s ice cream when something caught my eye. I studied the box for a moment and smiled.

Mini Swirlz Fudge Ripple. Gross. And yet, perfect.

As far as peace offerings went, this was an odd one, but he’d understand. I didn’t want to have an awkward conversation or make excuses for myself. I’d let the cereal do the talking for me and hope for the best. If I could avoid making any passes at Elliot for the next two and a half months, things should work out just fine.

3

Elliot

When I signed on to play professional beach volleyball, I agreed to become a dreaded morning person. I had to be on the sand by nine a.m. almost every day. Once I was there, I didn’t mind, but I needed a cup of coffee and at least fifteen minutes to stare at the wall before I left the apartment. I’d been known to leave without sunglasses, sunscreen, and my cell phone on less caffeine and prep time. It wasn’t worth getting on Gus’s bad side. I didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him to chill, so I figured it was best to show up on time, eager, and ready to play ball.

When I stumbled out of my room the morning after “the kiss,”—correction, “the second kiss”—the only thing on my mind was coffee. Not because I’d forgotten anything about last night—I hadn’t. In fact, it was all I’d thought about as I’d eaten pasta and painstakingly cleaned the kitchen. I thought about it some more when I watched an NCIS rerun with my eye on the door, willing Braden to come home and talk to me. He didn’t.

I gave up around eleven and must have fallen asleep when my head hit the pillow ’cause I didn’t hear him come in. Our place was nice enough, but it wasn’t soundproof at all. I could usually hear what the person in the next room was doing. Thank God neither Sophie or I’d been seeing anyone while she lived here. That might have been embarrassing. She listened to a lot of Justin Bieber, which was torture enough. Sex on top of that would have been hell.

I wondered if he’d stayed at a friend’s house. Or with a boyfriend. And that bugged me for reasons I didn’t understand. How did I not know he was bi? I wanted to be mad that Sophie didn’t mention it, but really…it was none of my business.

So, I pushed the angst aside. Braden was a big boy. He could stay where he wanted and with whomever he wanted. We could talk later. I glanced at his closed door on my way to the kitchen and stumbled for the coffee machine. I stared at my mug longingly. Once it was full, I cradled it between my hands and leaned on my spotless countertop. Not a crumb in sight or a renegade spot of marinara sauce. I’d used two sponges and a ton of elbow grease to scrub the stovetop and the island and—

I moved to the island and picked up the box of cereal. I glanced toward the hallway leading to our bedrooms and smiled.

Damn, I liked that guy.

A lot.

I sipped my coffee and considered how to approach this. We probably shouldn’t ignore it, but I also probably shouldn’t tell him I jacked off to the memory of his hard dick pressed against mine. Fuck, that was hot. And it was just a tease. I wanted so much more, but I got the feeling Braden didn’t agree. So, we’d either be friends or I’d have to figure out how to change his mind.

I rinsed my cup and put it in the dishwasher because Braden obviously cared about shit like that. Then I headed for the shower.

Ten minutes later, I tied a towel around my waist and opened the bathroom door to release some steam just as Braden opened his bedroom door.

It might have been my imagination or wishful thinking, but I could have sworn he eye-fucked me before he met my gaze.