“The cricket game? Yes.”
I scrunch my nose, mentally reminding myself to search up cricket when I get a chance. I don’t know much about anything besides hockey and basketball, but I don’t want to sound like a noob if we’re ever talking about her favorite sport.
“We’re playing on home ice next week. You should come.”
“Why? So I can ogle hot hockey players?”
My brows rise at her sass, wondering if it means she’s less nervous now. I like the thought of her getting comfortable with me.
“Ah, so you think I’m hot,” I tease, grinning harder when I hear her amused giggle.
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Nah, just need a little cheering tonight. We lost our game.”
“Speedy Spud still scored two goals though.”
“Hmm, guess I’m not so sad anymore,” I murmur, awash with a gentle heat at what she’d mistakenly admitted.
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m flattered my little cricketer picked a hockey game to watch.”
Her gasp is light, but I hear it as clearly as the beat of my heart pulsing in my ear.
“My cousin was playing,” she mutters.
“Your friend was playing, too.”
“The game was on right before my TV show.”
“You still watched it. How did your friend do?”
“He’s fine when he’s not being needy,” she snaps.
Did I say I liked it when she’s sassy? No, I’m fuckin’ living for it.
The shy, uncertain woman I gave a ride to has a spunky side hidden beneath the blush. There are so many layers to this girl and I want to peel them back one by one.
“Be nice to me, gorgeous. I have a weak heart. Don’t want to make me cry into my pillow tonight, do you?”
“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs.
“Thank you. I’m back in town in two days. Wanna meet up Sunday?” I’m surprised by the invite and I suspect she is as well. I hadn’t intended to ask but the more I speak with her, the more I’m inclined to do this face-to-face, where I don’t have to guess at every facial expression.
“Why?”
I rack my head for a response that isn’tI want to see you again. Only as friends, because your cousin would cut my balls off otherwise. But, also, I want to know if you wear silky nightgowns or booty short pjs, which has absolutely fuckall to do with being your friend. So, does 9:00 a.m. work?
“So you can bring a book and pretend to read while I watch.”
“I wasn’t pretending!” she protests.
“Tell that to the page you stroked like a magic lamp while staring out the window.”
My cock twitches at the idea of being stroked by Alia’s slender fingers. Thatwouldbe magical.
I drop my chin to my chest and will my body to behave.All you’re getting is self-service tonight, buddy, so calm the fuck down.