I turn to glance at her over my shoulder. She’s in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head, and her makeup is gone. She doesn’t need it anyway, because she still takes my breath away. I swallow back the thought before answering her. “No wine, I’m driving, but water would be good.”
She nods, disappears into the kitchen, and I force myself to turn back around and stare at the screen in front of me.
“Here you go.” She hands me a bottle of water before sitting next to me on the couch, with her glass of wine. She pulls the cover off the back and places it over her lap. “What did you decide on?”
“I didn’t,” I say, handing her the remote. “I don’t watch much TV outside of game tape or past games or the sports channels.” I chuckle. “Pick whatever, and I’ll be good with it.” Twisting the top off my bottle of water, I take a small sip, just to have something to do with my hands.
“This is a new series the girls at work have been talking about. Well, not new, but a new season. Love is Blind. I guess these people talk through walls and get engaged without ever seeing the person.”
“Really?” I ask her.
“Yep. They’re trying to see if love is blind, meaning you can fall in love without seeing them, but then they have to live together and stuff.”
“Huh.”
Amanda laughs so hard her body shakes, and I reach out to steady her hand so she doesn’t spill her wine. “Not impressed?” she asks, once she gets her laughter under control.
“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t see it. Yes, you should love someone for more than their looks, but are they really being honest about who they are? And what about attraction? You can care about someone deeply but not be attracted to them.”
She shrugs, a huge smile lighting up her face. “I guess we should start season one and see for ourselves. What do you say, Coach? Are you in?”
She’s different here. More relaxed, more herself, and I love it.
“Give me that,” I say. Reaching over, I take the remote from her hand, and she chuckles as I hit Play.
“Oh, we should turn out the lights. There’s always a glare. I keep saying I’m going to rearrange the furniture, but I just turn out the lights once Mia goes down anyway. Do you mind?”
Do I mind sitting next to you in the dark? “No, I don’t mind,” I say, my voice raspy.
She hands me her glass of wine, tosses the cover off her lap, which ends up on my thigh, and bounces across the room to turn out the light. When she makes her way back to the couch, she sits down, but this time she’s closer. I wait for her to cover up before handing her the glass of wine.
We make it through the first two episodes, and I hit Pause. “Well?”
“They’re really just talking to a wall,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “And they’re supposed to find true love? I’m not sure,” she says, finishing off her wine. “You want something else to drink? Popcorn?”
“I’m good. Here.” I take the glass from her. “I’ll get you a refill.” Standing, I move to the kitchen and pour her another glass of wine. It’s her third glass of the night, and she’s definitely relaxed.
“I don’t know about this, but there are so many seasons. Maybe we’re just not to the good parts yet,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Maybe,” I say, walking back to the living room. I hand over the glass of wine. I could use this as an opportunity to move to a different seat, but nope, I plop my ass back on the couch, where she’s sitting on the middle cushion, and she leans into me.
“I think it’s all fake,” she whispers, then quickly covers her mouth as if she’s doing something wrong.
“You’re probably right, but who knows, crazier things have happened,” I tell her.
“Okay, we need to see more to make a full determination.” She nods toward the TV, snuggles under the blanket, and I hit Play.
Not fifteen minutes in, her head lands on my shoulder. I take her wine, and she mumbles, “Thank you,” as she snuggles closer to me. She wraps her hands around my arm and uses me as a pillow. Unable to help myself, I place my hand over her legs, but I don’t take things further than that. Instead, I keep my eyes on the screen and enjoy the moment.
I’ve never been one for lots of random hookups. There have been women in my life since my divorce, but they were all casual—something we both agreed on. Tonight, sitting here with Amanda, it doesn’t feel casual. It feels big and overwhelming and forbidden.
So damn forbidden, that I know it’s a risk.
As a coach, I’ve told my players many times that you have to risk the play sometimes to move forward. This, sitting here with her like this, is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken. I know what’s on the line, yet here I sit, my arm draped over her lap, while she snuggles up to me. I know it’s the wine, but I still don’t stop it.
I need to stop this.
I can’t think about her this way.