Kicking Reality

“Not here,” I tell her, standing up and walking towards my bedroom.

I switch the light on and wait for her to enter, closing the door behind her. Her eyes wander across the room, from my perfectly made bed to the soccer medals displayed on my shelf. She walks over to the shelf in the pink shirt Alessandra lent her and thick white socks. With her back to me, I took the opportunity to scan her body, desperate to throw her onto my bed and make her mine.

There’s that word again.

She turns to face me, crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

“I hope you have an explanation for why you’ve been a prick.”

“Do you have one for being a bitch?” I retaliate.

She shakes her head and follows with a sinister laugh. “Nice. I’m a bitch because I haven’t spoken to you? Two-way street buddy, you weren’t exactly blowing up my phone with text messages.”

“You’re marrying him!” I yell, then quickly lower my voice hoping Ash didn’t hear. “And you’re still fucking him.”

“I told you I’m not with him. How many times do I need to say it? Believe whatever the hell you want. I was angry in the pub,” she says, frustrated. “What does it matter anyway? We said no strings attached and as far as I’m concerned, you fucking that nurse confirmed it.”

“You’re right,” I agree. “We said no strings attached so none of that should have mattered.”

With her eyes wide and brows furrowed, I could see she was hurt but my last comment.

“You know what?” I say softly. “You sleep here. I like the couch.”

“No, it’s your bed and you have a very important game tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re tired.”

I remove my tie and place it on my chair, unbuttoning my shirt and laying it on top. Considering we had seen each other naked, I found it amusing that she couldn’t look my way, purposely avoiding where I stood.

“Look, I’ll let you get changed.” She turns around and faces the shelf, looking at the gold medal that took pride in the middle. “Was this the first premiership you won?”

“Yes.” I smile, remembering the moment fondly. “I actually cried.”

“I can imagine. It’s such an achievement and both of you have worked towards that your whole life. I don’t think I ever remember a day when you wouldn’t talk about soccer or even kick the ball around. It’s in your blood.”

Dropping my pants, I hang them over the chair and remove my socks, leaving me only in my black boxer shorts.

“You can turn around now.”

She turns back around and keeps her eyes fixed on my face. I can see the struggle on her face—it mirrors exactly mine.

“I don’t want to sleep in your bed. Logan, this game is important.”

“I know my body and my limits, it’ll be fine.” I pull the cover back, motioning for her to hop in. She does with reluctance, and when she’s settled in the middle, her gaze meets mine and lingers. Did she know how sexy she looked in my bed? How much I wanted to climb in beside her and hold her tight to only let her go so I could watch her body unravel beneath my touch?

“Goodnight Emmy.”

I walk to the door and switch off the light. As I begin closing the door, I hear her call my name, making me stop in my tracks.

“Sleep in your bed . . . with me.”

Letting out a sigh, my body turns around on its own accord.

“Emmy, you don’t know what you’re asking,” I whisper in the dark.

“Yes, I do.” She pauses with a hitched breath. “I’m asking you to stay with me.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Maybe it is, Logan. I don’t know anymore. But for now, it’s just this. Please stay with me.”