Page 50 of On Merit Alone

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Merit

My heart pounded as my feet padded along the floor of the tunnel. There weren’t a ton of people left back here since the game was over, but there were still a bunch of staff around. They were littering the place, which made this all the more nerve racking.

But King Ira had made himself clear.

Ira

Meet me in my locker room when you’re free. Try to run away and I’m telling the first reporter I see about that little file of me you keep on your phone.

So here I was, sneaking into the men’s locker room.

Ira had left the door cracked open for me, but that didn’t stop my heart from beating in my throat.

It wasn’t just that someone most likely saw me sneaking in, but also the fact that I hadn’t seen him in a while.

Not since he held me in my apartment and convinced me to tell all my secrets.

That night we’d both fallen asleep on the couch, tucked up beside one another as the TV screen played on mute. I felt him with me all through the night, but when I woke up in the morning he’d left. The note he left me simply said:

See you soon, Six.

I was both sad and relieved that I didn’t have to wake up and face him the morning after.

I hated to make it sound like some kind of bad one night stand, because it was nowhere near that.

It had actually been a good night. Not that crying my eyes out and oversharing my past was good, per se, but connecting to someone like I connected with Ira felt nice.

It was almost like that night at his house.

While it had been one of his worst since I’d known him, it was still one of the best for me and him. One that tied our hearts together on the same string and made it apparent that either one of us had the power to tug the other along with that thread alone.

Another night just like that, this time in my apartment and this time my heart doing the tugging, solidified it.

Ira had power over me. Power to rile me up. Power to cool me off. Power to make me feel like I belonged even when I knew the truth. That I didn’t belong anywhere. And that scared the crap out of me.

This must have shown on my face when I appeared in the locker area of the men’s room, because Ira immediately tsked, “Don’t look so happy to see me, Six.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, my hip locking to the side. “Well, considering the fact that you blackmailed me in here, I think my expression is appropriate.”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to blackmail just to see you if you weren’t avoiding me, Merit.

” Ira stood from the seat in front of his locker and looked at me.

He wore casual clothes. Slim fitting shorts with some cute little writing on one side.

A white tee and white pullover covering his top half.

His curly hair was chopped a little shorter, his tapered undercut faded and his line new.

He got a haircut. He looked cute. I wanted to tell him so, but that would probably be weird. Right?

Walking in my direction, he stopped only when he was right over me. Mere inches away. Then he opened his arms up wide and raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t have to stare at me like that, Six. Just tell me you want me.”

And there he went again. I rolled my eyes, stepping to turn away. Calm and easy, he looped his arms around me, pulling me into his body.

I melted.

You know those perfect hugs? The ones where the other person is just the right height and squeezes you just the right amount.

That's what I felt as I looped my arms around Ira’s slim waist and melted into the warmth of his body.

His chest was under my cheek. His arms like a barrier from the world around me. His steady frame a foundation.

Mine, if just for this moment.

It felt so nice and right that as he started to run soothing hands up my back, I sighed into him, holding on tighter.

Leaning down, Ira’s body rumbled with a chuckle as he murmured, “Like I said, just tell me you want me, however you want me, and I’m there.”

Not removing my face from his chest, I asked, “Why’d you want me in here?”

“I missed you,” he said simply. When I didn’t respond he added, “And you were avoiding me. Any reason why?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” I said.

Pulling back he looked at me like I was crazy. “What gave you that impression? The part where I showed up at your house specifically to see you? Or the part when I specifically told you I would be there for you? Your pick. ”

If he could see a blush on my warm skin, I know he’d be staring at it now. Ducking my head I mumbled, “The part when you kissed me. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.”

He blinked at me, his eyes scouring my face trying to determine if I was serious. The scrutiny just made me recede further.

Ira tsked. “Sweetheart. Typically when someone kisses you it’s because they like you and want to see more of you, not less.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he shut me up by leaning very close to my mouth.

My eyes shut on instinct, my mouth chasing his touch, but he didn’t close the small remaining distance between us.

He just spoke. “And in our case, when I kiss you Merit, it’s because I want to see every part of you.

Over and over until I have you memorized. ”

My entire body heated with awareness. Curious and anticipatory. “Are you going to kiss me now?”

“No,” he said. I couldn’t help deflating a little at the rejection. Ira laughed. “Not because I don’t want to, Mer. But when I kiss you, you seem to disappear. And since I’m trying to keep you, it’s sort of a conflict of interest.”

Since I’m trying to keep you.

There went my cheeks burning again. But Ira was already starting to move away, pulling me further into the room as he did.

“Good job out there.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

“Well, that sure was convincing,” he scoffed. “What’s up with that answer?”

“While I appreciate the courtesy, it was not a good job out there. If we keep this up, New York is going to crush us in a few weeks.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that rivalry you have going on.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. The rivalry he was referring to was that between the Mites and the New York Rebellion. Although, with our losing streak to them in the recent past, it was becoming less of a rivalry and more of a slaughterhouse. “Not feeling too confident about that now.”

“I’m sure you guys will pull through,” he said.

I grunted and he just eyed me for a second.

“Do you like to talk or sulk after a game?”

“I don’t know,” I answered genuinely, never having thought about it before. Sitting down when prompted with a little nudge, I blinked my eyes up at the ceiling as I contemplated. “I’ve never had the option before. I usually just listen in the huddle, take my shower, and go home… alone.”

His eyes flipped up to my face for a second before he kneeled in front of me and patted his knee. I didn’t know what he wanted. That didn’t deter him. He just reached down and grabbed my foot, placing it on top of his knee and began untying the laces.

Flipping his gaze back up to mine in a quick glance, he asked, “How do you feel about the game then?”

He wasn’t lingering on the fact that my foot was now in his lap and he was already halfway through unlacing my shoe, so neither would I.

Easier said than done though as his hands slipped under the back of my foot and tugged my shoe off.

While he gently set the shoe down on the floor, he squeezed the back of my ankle.

Massaging the tendon there in a surprisingly deft motion.

I hummed a moan, rolling my lips into my mouth to keep the entire sound from filling the air.

He heard enough though, his eyes flicking up to mine as he smirked.

Still, he didn’t comment on that, just coaxing.

“You basically transcended to another level after that bullshit call. I love a good rage streak.”

“Right!” I said, remembering the numerous bad calls that particular ref always seemed to make on me and the rest of the girls. It’s like he was anti home team as a home team ref! It made no sense. I’m sure my tone of voice said as much as I grumbled, “He’s the worst. ”

“Fucking John.” Ira shook his head as he moved onto my other shoe.

“Fucking John!” I echoed in a bubbling giggle.

I blinked down at him. I was smiling, and strangely my chest felt light as we spoke. Ira somehow sucked the anxiety I usually held after a too close game right up. Which suddenly made me shy.

He looked up at me, giving my foot an encouraging squeeze even before he had that shoe off. “What else, Six?”

I bit my lip. Peeking down at him, I didn’t not want to tell him. But what if I went too basketball nerd on him again?

The look he speared me with had ‘in this lifetime, Six’ written all over it though. So swallowing down my insecurity, I pushed on.

“Well… I’m a little frustrated with my team right now.

I mean, I’m trying as hard as I can, and I’m playing better which is great, but I can’t do everything.

It’s like they forget there are other people out there that they should be depending on.

Again—I love that I’m back and playing decent again—but I just sort of hate the pressure you know? ”

“Oh absolutely, they’re running you ragged,” he said.

Below me, he’d taken my socks off and was starting in on the ankle wrap I’d been wearing on my right ankle since college.

It was weak and always rolled, so it was best to tape it up to be more safe than sorry.

I hummed agreeing marginally and he huffed.

“Just because you’re the best player on the team doesn’t mean it's all on you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don't think of myself as the best player on the team, Ira.”

Picking up my wrist, he started unraveling the wrap there too. That was another injury that seemed to pop up depending on the frequency of play. I kept it taped under a sweatband for preventative measures.