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CHAPTER 17
BECAUSE OF THE RULES
SAGE
Sage sat on the bleachers, grateful for the Southeastern team hoodie and sweatpants she’d thrown on that morning. The practice gym was fucking freezing, and while the players obviously appreciated it, as someone who wasn’t running around, she was pretty miserable.
David and Coach Dixon stood together, heads bent over a game board as the guys finished up a drill, and Sage felt her skin heat as her eyes dropped to David’s stupidly sculpted ass.
Men in sweatpants. Fuck .
She’d spent the two days after Christmas trying to focus on planning team bonding activities, but beautiful David Hughes with his new haircut and his fucking sweaters that were so nerdy and perfect on him had basically taken up residence in her apartment.
He’d showed up every morning armed with Daisy, coffee, and a backpack, and then promptly made himself at home on her couch. He’d work on his laptop while she cooked breakfast, and after they ate together, they’d take Daisy for a long walk before going back to the apartment.
His presence in her life was annoyingly distracting, but still, there was something about him being in her space with his big body and whatever body wash he used that left her feeling settled. Grounded, maybe. Even when he left in the evening, the scent of him lingered, clinging to her couch cushions like a memory she wasn’t allowed to forget.
Attraction wasn’t new to her. She’d even experienced the kind of attraction that overtook rationality and left her without any sense of where she ended and the other began.
Whatever she felt for David Hughes, it wasn’t that.
Even though her body wanted him — fuck, did her body want him — and she may or may not have gotten herself off a few times to the image of his big hands digging into her thighs as she rode him, Sage recognized that whatever she felt for him was different.
He was a friend. Maybe one of the best she’d ever had. Honestly, that was enough for her.
But maybe, when the season ended, they’d give into the physical attraction between them that refused to go away and surrender to the hook-up of a lifetime. There was no way it could be more than that. By that point in the year, Sage would be halfway out the door and off to wherever her still-unknown career took her.
If the idea of never seeing David again made her feel nauseous, she pretended not to notice.
But she’d noticed other things about him.
David was generally quiet, lost in his work or whatever book he was reading until he occasionally broke the silence to ask Sage a question. He had a tendency to lose track of time, and without Sage’s reminders to drink water and eat he would probably go all day without moving.
In the evenings, they’d part ways for an hour or two, during which Sage did the necessary things like showering and laundry, before they’d meet up again at The Grove for dinner.
And now that the team was back, their winter break schedule of two-a-day practices and a combination of team meals and other activities — planned by Sage — commenced.
They were wrapping up a two-hour practice, when David started getting them set up for four on four King of the Court.
“We’re two short, Coach,” Zephyr called out as they distributed colored jerseys.
David glanced over at the bleachers. When his eyes caught on Sage, a slow smile spread across his face. “You’re in, Lefty,” he said, nodding toward the court.
Her gut turned to ice, but she veiled her reaction with a cocked brow. “Only if you play,” she responded, trying to ignore the muffled pounding in her ears.
“That’s the plan.”
She watched as David tossed his game board down on the sideline and removed the long whistle he wore around his neck. He, like her, was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, and as the players realized what was happening, they started to whoop and shout.
“Let’s go, Coach!” Monty jumped up and down, a wide grin on his face as his braids bounced where they were tied up on the back of his head.
Fuck . She wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to. She couldn’t deny that there was a spark of something in her chest that had her itching to test herself, to put herself up against these guys and see what she still had.
Standing up, she pulled off her hoodie and bent down to tighten the laces of her shoes. They weren’t what she would normally wear to play, but they were functional, at least.
“Alright,” David called out, looking around the assembled team. “Sage is on Black and I’m on Green.”
She put on the practice jersey that was tossed her way, assessing her team. Damian and Patrick were both freshmen guards, and then Jenks, at almost seven feet, was a true center.
“First basket wins, and winner stays,” David called, ushering his team out to start.
Sage bent her knees, trying to speed through warming up her legs as her team lined up under the basket.
She watched the first match-up, taking note of the different players, but her gaze kept snagging on David. He moved with the grace and efficiency of someone who felt as at home on the court as he did in his own bedroom.
He took up space in the high post, dishing the ball out to a guard whenever it touched his hands. And when he shot the ball — fuck , it was effortless, his form perfect, and Sage thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.
Sage felt her lips curve up into a smile.
“I’ve got Coach,” she said to her team.
Jenks shook his head and laughed. “Bold move, Lefty.”
Scowling, she reached over and flicked the big center’s bare shoulder. “You don’t get to call me that.”
“But he does?” He looked pointedly at David, whose team was still trying to get a basket up.
She felt her cheeks warm, but she shrugged. “He lives in my apartment complex. Sometimes I see him walking his dog.”
“He has a dog?” Patrick leaned in closer.
Sage decided right at that moment that she was going to force David to bring Daisy to practice tomorrow.
“Yeah, a huge, intimidating dog,” she said. “Really scary.”
David’s team scored, and the next group ran out as the losing team rotated off the court.
Sage’s attention returned to the teams in front of her, and she bounced on the balls of her feet. Energy coursed through her. Her hands flexed, already imagining the feeling of the smooth leather against her skin.
Five seconds later, David made a pass through the middle to Foley, who made a quick lay-up.
The losing team grumbled, but Sage tuned them out as she ran out onto the court. David stood off to one wing, bent over with his hands braced on his knees. His chest heaved, and sweat already gathered on his hairline and upper lip.
“How you hanging, old man?”
David shook his head as a low chuckle vibrated from his chest. “Where I come from, it’s bad luck to talk shit before you’re winning,” he said, his voice rough.
Sage grinned, lowering down into a defensive stance as she saw Patrick checking the ball in.
As soon as the ball was in play, David moved forward, ducking his shoulder as he tried to get past her. But Sage anticipated the move, leaning her chest heavily into him and forcing him to adjust his path to go behind her.
She pulled back from him enough to see the ball, which was currently on the opposite wing, but she kept one hand planted on David’s chest.
He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without her knowing.
“Handsy,” he muttered, hooking his arm around her back to try to get the angle to move closer to the ball.
Whatever hesitation Sage had felt before stepping on the court was gone, replaced by instincts and muscle memories that were so much a part of her that she’d almost forgotten they were there.
She hung back for a second, just enough time for Horty, David’s teammate, to think the pass was there. But as soon as the ball left his hands, Sage darted into the path of the pass, stealing the ball.
Immediately her head was on a swivel, and she caught the flash of black out of the corner of her eye. She hesitated for a second, already hearing the shout of disapproval if she made a risky pass.
But there was no one watching her, right? This practice wasn’t about her. None of the coaches gave a shit how she played. Fuck, they weren’t even her coaches.
Her hesitation had cost her the first opening, but already another idea had taken form.
She could feel David’s body pressed against hers, a position that, in any other context, would have been inherently sexual. But that was the last thing on her mind as she turned to face the basket, keeping the ball tucked against her hip.
She ignored David’s face that hovered inches from hers, instead watching the rise and fall of his chest. Her eyes darted up to the basket over his shoulder, and she saw the exact second his weight shifted forward.
She faked the shot, selling it with a deep knee bend and a tilt of her chin.
David lunged forward, and easily, like she’d never spent a day away from the game, Sage ducked under him and took a hard dribble toward the basket. And when Jenks’ man came to stop her, she made the easy dish pass across the lane to her teammate, who finished with an open lay-up.
“Let’s go!” Jenks shouted, coming toward Sage with both hands raised.
She was probably smiling like a fool as she returned the high fives, but she was so overwhelmingly happy at that moment that she forgot to hold herself back.
No one in the gym could possibly know how monumental what had just happened was. She felt a wave of relief that her return to basketball, a moment that had been building in her imagination for the past five years, had gone unnoticed. Anticlimactic, even.
And the game went on. Her team was beaten a few plays later, and so they went back and forth, with no team showing any particular dominance over the others. It was competitive, sure, but there was laughter and teasing and everything Sage associated with a team who genuinely enjoyed spending time together.
And by the time they wrapped up and the guys headed to shower off before their team dinner, Sage was drenched in sweat, exhausted, and happier than she’d been in a long time.
* * *
After five days of practices, team dinners, a failed attempt to get the guys to do a gingerbread house decorating competition, Daisy making a few appearances at team gatherings, a yoga class that had completely kicked her in the ass, and way too many hours spent in the company of men, Sage bowed out of that night’s team dinner, which Monty and his roommates were hosting at their house. She’d made sure they were all stocked with groceries on the team card, and then escaped to The Grove to see Maggie.
“Sage!” Maggie called out as soon as she sat at one of the stools. Luckily, on a Monday evening, the bar was pretty quiet. “The usual?”
“Please,” Sage replied, tugging at the floral print blouse she’d pulled out of her closet. For some reason she’d gotten it into her head that she wanted to wear something other than sweats and a t-shirt.
Sage accepted the margarita the bartender slid across the wood toward her. “How have you been?”
Maggie looked surprised at the question, but the surprise quickly faded into a grateful smile. “Really good, honestly. Men are still idiots, but other than that I’m great.”
Sage laughed. “How so?”
“There’s a guy I’ve been with off and on for a while, and while I’d like for it to be a bit more on, he keeps pullin’ away.” Maggie frowned down at the bar, picking at a spot on the wood with one of her red painted nails. “I’m too old to put up with someone who isn’t willin’ to share their life with me. If I’m puttin’ myself out there, then the least he can do is meet me halfway. And since he’s proven to be an asshole who wants to hide me away like a dirty secret, I’m going to break it off.” She wrinkled her nose at Sage. “And I hate breakin’ up with people.”
Sage took a long drink of her margarita, grateful for the burn of the jalapeno infused tequila. “So what would it look like if you were going to stay?” She winced, afraid that her voice betrayed the dull pain that tightened in her chest.
Maggie considered her question for a moment, like maybe she was trying to piece together the odd phrasing or understand what it was that Sage wanted to know.
“Keep in mind that I am in no way an authority on relationships of any kind,” Maggie started. “But the way that I see it, we’ve only got so many hours to be alive on this earth. Regardless of what happens after, at some point we’re all going to die.”
Sage’s expression must have reflected her confusion, because Maggie waved a hand at her. “I promise I’m goin’ somewhere with this,” she said, before picking up where she left off. “So if I’m going to spend time with someone, their company needs to make my life better. They need to bring me somethin’ that improves my life, not only physically, but actually makes my days better.”
“I’m pretty content on my own,” Maggie continued. “I don’t need to have a boyfriend to feel happy or to get off. I can do those things for myself.” She shot a smirk at Sage. “That means that if I’m going to let someone in, then it’s because they’re fuckin’ awesome and I want to spend more time with them. Not because I’m not happy or complete without them.”
Sage blinked. “Wow.”
“Did that make any sense?” Maggie bent down, pulling out a tub of limes, which she began chopping into wedges on the counter behind the bar. “Sometimes I get ramblin’ and lose track of what I’m sayin’.”
“No, it made a lot of sense,” Sage replied, her brain churning at a million miles a minute. “Too much sense, actually.”
Maggie gave an understanding nod. “Any luck in figurin’ out your future?”
“Fuck no,” Sage said with a snorted laugh.
“Well, cheers to that,” Maggie said, joining in her laughter. “Now give me an update on your beautiful boyfriend.”
“Still not my boyfriend.” But Sage grinned, relaxing into the ease of teasing banter with a girlfriend, something she didn’t realize she’d missed.
* * *
Sage was still smiling as her apartment door shut behind her.
Her skin buzzed with the kind of energy she’d only ever felt after a win, and as she kicked off her heels and tossed her jacket onto the back of her couch, she felt like she could run a marathon.
It was the last Friday of the break, and Southeastern had pulled off another win.
Tonight, it had been a good win, the kind of win where the momentum was in their hands the entire game. It was the kind of win that could change the trajectory of a season.
Sage had done her job, tracking stats and double checking that water bottles were kept full. But she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes from David, who, in black slacks and a blazer, looked every bit a confident head coach. He’d paced, focused and engaged with every moment that was happening out on the court, his heavy brows pulled down over his dark eyes. Every time they’d scored, he’d clenched his hand into a fist and given a single pump, allowing himself that one small moment of celebration.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was a text from David.
Come over.
The buzzing under her skin intensified. She glanced at her front door and then back to her phone, anticipation sending her heart rate into overdrive.
She was being ridiculous. They hung out all the time. David practically lived in her apartment. But normally he’d just show up when he wanted to see her. He’d knock on the door and she’d answer.
For him to text her like this? It was different. Something was different.
He was giving her the choice. The ball was in her court; if she wanted to come over, the invitation was clearly stated. And if she didn’t? She had an easy out.
Her thumbs were tapping on the screen before she’d concluded her thought.
Two minutes later, she was knocking on the door of David’s apartment. She shifted from foot to foot, goosebumps on her skin in spite of the heavy, warm air.
The door was wrenched open.
“Hi,” David breathed, smiling down at her.
He’d also lost his blazer, leaving him in a pale blue Oxford that he’d unbuttoned enough to show a flash of the dark hair that she knew covered his chest. One side of the shirt was untucked, leaving him looking rumpled and disheveled in the best way possible.
Fuck, he was hot.
“I’m so goddamn happy right now,” David said, and he opened his arms to her.
Sage surged forward, wrapping her arms around his strong middle. When she felt his arms envelop her, she relaxed, letting her cheek rest against his chest as her hands pressed into the firm muscle that covered his back.
Time slowed as they stood there wrapped together in David’s open doorway. Sage breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of him that never failed to draw her in. Above her, she could feel David’s breath against her scalp, sending a wave of goosebumps down her spine.
In that moment, months of wanting came to a head, and waiting and holding herself back felt like the silliest idea in the world.
So she drew back from his grip just enough that she could look up at him. When she saw the same wanting reflected in his eyes, she let her hands slide around to his front before running them up his chest and curling them around the back of his neck.
Fuck waiting. She was going to do it.
Sage pulled his head down. The first brush of her lips against his was tentative, contrary to the confidence she’d summoned when she pulled him to her. All of her awareness narrowed to the nerve endings where their lips met, and as soon as she registered the warmth and softness of his mouth she fell head-first into him.
A tortured moan tore from David’s throat as he responded to her. His lips parted and she tasted him — honey and herbs from the lozenge she’d given him after the game. He licked into her mouth, slowly, decadently, like she was something sweet. Something worth tasting again and again.
Suddenly they were moving. David’s hands had come up at some point to cradle her face, keeping them connected as he pressed her back against a wall. She refused to break the kiss, pouring every bit of pent-up desire into this connection between their bodies. But then he pushed his hips into hers, and there was no ignoring the hard length of him that met her lower stomach.
David swallowed her whimper, nipping at her lower lip before tearing his mouth away.
Sage stood there, panting as she tried to catch her breath. David lowered his forehead to rest against hers, his breathing equally ragged.
“Damnit, Lefty,” he growled.
Her body fucking ached for him. Arousal curled in her stomach, tightened her nipples, and her movements were frantic as her hands went to the front of his shirt.
She managed to undo three buttons before his hands covered hers, gripping her with enough strength to halt her progress. “Just once,” she pleaded, the throbbing between her legs driving her to roll her hips against him. “Please, David.”
David’s breath somehow grew harsher, like each exhale was punched from his chest. “No,” he rasped, his hold on her hands unrelenting. His head shook. “Fuck, I want to, but no.”
Her eyes closed. She swallowed. “Because of the rules,” she whispered.
“No, Sage.” His hands returned to cup her jaw, and he lowered himself so that his face was the only thing she could see. “Not the rules.” His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his eyes leaving hers for a moment to trace the movement. His mouth, swollen and red from kissing, curved up into a soft smile. “If we do this, it won’t just be once. It won’t just be some hook-up you can walk away from. It sure as fuck won’t be mediocre . If we do this it’ll be real. I’m talking dating, Lefty. You and me together, okay?”
Sage thought about Maggie, about not needing anyone, but still choosing someone if they made life a little better. She thought about David in her apartment, David on the court, David with his perfect shot and big hands and the way that kindness poured from him like a spring.
Life with him could be good. So fucking good.
“Okay.”
David looked as surprised as she felt. “After the season?” he asked tentatively.
Sage nodded. Yes . Whatever this attraction was between them, Sage had no doubt that they were in it together. That there had to be a future where they got to work through whatever seemed to be alive between their bodies.
After the season, she repeated to herself silently.
And, as she hugged him one last time and left him standing there, wild eyed and tenting his slacks, she turned back to give him one last glance, adding, “See you in the morning for breakfast, Hughes.”
It wasn’t a question.