I was still thinking about the way she felt in my arms, about her eyes, and her smile, and about the way that smile filled her entire face that afternoon as I washed away the day in her shower. I had to wash with her shower gel, which smelled like her, and dry with a towel that did, too.
And it was when I had my nose in that towel, when I took a deep inhale and soaked in her scent, that I realized what I was doing.
My eyes shot open, and I saw myself reflected in the foggy mirror in her bathroom.
What the hell are you doing?
You shouldn’t stay for dinner.
You shouldn’t have been that close to Sydney.
You should leave.
Now.
I knew why I wanted to stay for dinner, regardless of whether I was ready to admit it to myself or not. It was because I didn’t want to leave Sydney at Home. It was because I’d had a glimpse inside her life, and now I wanted to know more.
I wanted to know everything.
It was because I liked the way she felt in my arms, and the way she smelled, and that she had a garden and that she did yoga on her back porch.
It was because I found her beautiful, in every way possible, and I wanted to be with her for as long as I could be.
My expression hardened at my reflection in the mirror. Everything about the man staring back at me screamed question after question, warning after warning, accusation after accusation. It was a dangerous line I was tiptoeing on. There didn’t need to be a written rule for me to know that there were lines between me and Sydney that couldn’t be crossed — not with me as head coach and her as the athletic trainer.
But who said it had to be more than a friendship?
I could stay for dinner. I could get to know Sydney, admire her beauty and loveliness without acting on it.
I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I searched the eyes I’d searched my entire life for a long moment, something between shame and stubborn denial washing over me the longer I did.
But before it could permeate my skin, I ripped my gaze away.
I finished drying quickly, ignoring the voice inside me that always warned me when I was on the precipice of doing something stupid. I told myself I wasn’t breaking any rules, that I had no intentions other than to be helpful and polite. I told myself I was a welcome guest, that Sydney and I worked together and could be friends, that I was here to help Paige.
Surely, that was okay.
I repeated my excuses over and over as I dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt I always kept in my car just in case — namely for when I went to Mom’s straight after practice or a game and showered there.
Then, I threw my towel in Sydney’s dirty hamper and joined her in the kitchen, ready to help.
I didn’t look at my reflection again.SydneyIt was nine-oh-eight when I popped the cork on a bottle of red wine, and I sighed out loud at the sound of it, filling my glass a little past the line of what was ladylike before I held up the bottle with my eyes on my guest.
“Wine?” I asked.
Paige was finally in bed, conked out cold after what was likely the most exciting day she’d had in her young life. She was still talking animatedly about football and how her day with Jordan had gone when I’d tucked her in, and I’d listened to her intently, even as she spoke through her yawns. When I’d paused at her door to tell her I loved her before turning out the light, she’d taken the opportunity to melt my heart.
“This was the best day ever, Mom,” she’d said before she closed her eyes and rolled over. “Thank you.”
I couldn’t help the smile that little girl brought out in me with that statement, nor could I disagree with her that it had been a good day.
But, I was still exhausted — physically and mentally — and my anxiety had worked my nerves to the point of being nearly shredded.
Mama needed a drink.
Jordan smirked at my offer, leaning his elbows on the counter from where he stood on the other side of it. He still looked freshly showered even a couple hours later, his hair slightly damp, skin clean, the faint scent of my bodywash wafting off him. I flushed a little bit at the thought of him naked in my shower, but turned my attention back to the bottle in my hand and away from my boss’s nudity.
“Any chance you have something a little stronger?” he asked.
I gave him an incredulous look before I set the bottle of wine down and pressed up onto my tiptoes to reach into the cabinet above my sink, retrieving a bottle of Scooter Whiskey.