Zach's smile is soft. “Then I guess you'll just have to marry me and be my trophy wife,” he teases, trying to lighten the mood. “Don't worry. I'll buy you all the shiny things and kiss your ankles before breakfast.”
I laugh despite myself, swatting at his chest. “You wish, Evans.”
“Every damn day,” he says, and though his tone is playful, I can see the sincerity in his eyes. “But in all seriousness, Honeycomb. You don't need to know what you want to do just yet. Explore. Figure it out in your own time. There's no time limit for me.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I let myself get lost in his words and touch. There's no time limit. I let him hold me, knowing that his relentless certainty in us is the only thing that's ever made sense.
“Anyone up for watching Sebi strike out with everyone, including the fucking bench, tonight?” Dax calls across the locker room, toweling off his hair.
Sebi doesn’t miss a beat. “Hey! I resent that! The bench loves me. She’s a real freak for my glutes. We’ve been flirting since preseason.”
The locker room echoes with groans. Reese looks at me, making a gagging sound just as Mason throws a sock at Sebi.
“The bench is the only thing that’ll touch you willingly,” Mason mutters, dragging a hoodie over his head.
“Touch me?” Sebi snorts. “Sheclings,bro. Last week, she left a dent in my ass. We’re basically exclusive now.”
“Dude, you’re so horny, you’re hallucinating,” Dax laughs. “Next thing you’ll be proposing to the hand dryer.”
“Nah, that bitch blows hot and cold.” Sebi winks. “Can’t trust her.”
“I swear to God,” Mason grumbles, “if I hear about you and another piece of furniture, I’m setting your mattress on fire.”
“Good. She likes it hot.”
Dax makes a gagging sound. “Okay, I’m tapping out. Can we go for drinks now and talk football before Sebi starts serenading his locker next?”
“First round’s on Mason since he dropped that block in the third quarter drill,” Sebi calls.
“Fuck off,” Mason retorts, pulling his shirt over his head. “That was Dax’s assignment.”
“Was not,” Dax shoots back, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. “Just because you can’t remember the playbook doesn’t make it my fault.”
I chuckle, shaking my head as I pull on my jeans. Once they’re zipped, I check my phone and see a message from Honey.
Honey:So I hope you don’t mind, but I’m at your place. I’ve made dinner. It’s your favorite. Chicken parm.
Fuck.
My smile is instant. Wide and stupid becauseOperation: Honey, I shrunk the Distanceis working, and I don’t think she even realizes it. She’s atmyplace, cookingmedinner. No heads-up. No half-apology. JustI’m here.Two weeks ago she was ignoring coming to my place completely, and now she’s inviting herself over, letting herself in and acting like it’s her space as much as it is mine.
“Evans,” Sebi calls, snapping his fingers in my face. “Earth to Loverboy. Did you zone out thinking about Honey’s tits again or are you composing your next proposal in Notes?”
“I’m busy tonight,” I say, not looking up as I type a response to her.
Zach:You had me at chicken parm. OMW. Love you, Honeycomb.
“Shocker,” Dax mutters, combing his curls. “Evans is whipped. Always has been.”
“Not whipped,” I say, finally lifting my gaze. “Just not dumb enough to choose your crusty asses and warm beer over homemade chicken parm and a girl who actually likes me for more than my stats.”
“Definitely whipped,” Sebi confirms. “But can we blame him? If I had a girl like Honey cooking for me, I’d propose before the plate hit the table. Twice just to be sure she heard me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if he knows just how often I ask for her hand in marriage, and subsequently just how often she puts it off. I haven’t told anyone, so he shouldn’t, but honestly, I haven’t been shy about asking and he eavesdrops with the best of them.
“Whoa, Romeo.” Sebi raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, the girl’s a dime. If she ever dumps you, I’m buying a ring.”
“Try it,” I deadpan. “I’ll bury you behind the practice field before you get to the store.”