Page 41 of Play Me

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Astrid

The ceiling fan whirls softly, sending a gentle flutter of air around Gray’s childhood bedroom.

His bed is soft, much softer than mine at home, and his pillows are like puffed marshmallows spun into cotton.

I curl up next to the wall, beneath a poster of a sports star that I can’t name, and scroll around on Social.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Naturally, I’ll overthink everything eventually because I always do. But the idea of spoiling my pure bliss tonight is unfathomable, and I’m too realistic to know that something will ruin it for me soon enough.

That’s life, baby.

My ears perk up as Gray’s footsteps pad down the carpeted hallway.

My core tightens, already associating Gray’s presence with pleasure.

It’s a wild concept, one so far from the migraine I associated him with when we first met.

Will this change once we’re back in Nashville?

The thought worries me, and the fact that I’m worried about it, that a part of me openly acknowledges that I want more of this, concerns me more.

“You have two choices,” Gray says, knocking the door closed with his hip. “I found a Rice Krispies treat and a chocolate bar. Can you eat either of these?” He hops on the bed next to me. “Neither say they have peanuts in them, but … how do you know? Do we trust these companies?”

I laugh.

“What?” he turns his face to mine with his brows pinched together. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No. I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s so nice of you to be so cognizant of my allergies.”

He drops the snacks onto his bare chest. “I can’t kill you yet because, if I recall correctly, and I do , you insinuated that you wanted me to nut in your mouth.” He grins mischievously. “I’m not going to let a nut steal that nut , if you follow me.”

I giggle. “Oh, I follow you now. But I’ll swallow you later.”

My phone chimes as a text message alert pops on the screen. I roll onto my back and hold my phone up in the air, opening my app.

Gianna: So there’s this guy …

Audrey: I don’t know how you keep finding them. Haven’t you exhausted the supply in this city?

Gray unwraps the Rice Krispies treat. “Which one of your friends has the taser?”

“Gianna.”

He offers me a bite of the bar, and I nibble the corner.

Me: Thoughts about this one?

Audrey: Wait. Do we know this guy?

Gianna: It was the guy from the email. The one who banged his coworker’s wife.

Audrey: I have a bad feeling about this one.

Gianna: You would be right, my sweet little Auddie. The sex could’ve been an email.

Gray takes a bite, then snuggles up to my side. “What is she talking about?”

“God only knows.” I chuckle.

Me: The sex could’ve been an email. I’m struggling with that one, G.

Gianna: I mean, he was a great emailer. His delivery was smooth, his points intriguing yet satisfying. I craved more. But sex with this buster? It would’ve been better if he had typed it out and hit Send.

Audrey: Sorry. Are you home yet, Astrid?

I whoosh a breath as my stomach turns to knots.

Obviously, I’ll tell my friends about tonight in vivid detail. It’s sort of fun to be the one with a story to tell for a change. But I haven’t had time to process the events of the evening, and I really don’t know how to explain it to Gianna and Audrey with Gray peering over my shoulder.

He offers me another bite. “You gonna answer them, or what?”

“Yeah. Just trying to figure out how.” I bite off the edge of the bar, then chew slowly. “They’ll take this the wrong way.”

“What way would that be?”

I glance over my shoulder at him.

Gray studies my reaction to his question, watching my every blink and sigh.

He’s freshly washed from our shower a little while ago.

His torso is bare, showcasing his ridiculously crafted muscles and tanned skin, and a pair of blue running shorts sits low on his hips.

If I didn’t already know what he was packing beneath them, I’d be dying to find out.

“My friends are both dramatic, but in opposite ways,” I say.

Gianna: Shall I get my hopes up?

Audrey: Take a breath.

Gianna: Out of the three of us, one of us should be having great sex. It isn’t you. It’s not me. But it could be Astrid.

Gianna: Thick thighs and rugby guys. I’m here for it.

“Me, too,” Gray says, chuckling. “Let’s send them a selfie.”

“ What? ”

He shrugs, running a hand along my inner thigh. My legs open for him … just in case.

“You want to send them a selfie?” I ask, my jaw slack. “Are you serious? You don’t care that we’re half naked in bed?”

“I’m the lucky fuck in bed with you,” he says, nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck. “Why do I care who knows it?”

Oh . I feather my fingers through his hair. My head leans against his as he presses kisses against my throat. The gesture is tender and sweet, rich yet subtle, and flames the slow burn simmering in my chest.

I forget about my friends and ignore their incoming text messages.

Instead, I close my eyes and just live in this moment with Gray.

A blanket of peace settles over the two of us.

Does he feel it, too? Does he notice the sprinkle of magic in the room—the shift in temperature that feels like possibility is blooming?

I might be crazy. The facts lean that way. It’s not like me to go out of town with a guy, let alone stay all night with him at his brother’s house after getting fucked in a field out in the middle of nowhere.

Who am I right now? I grin. I don’t know, but I think I like her.

“Look up,” I say, positioning my phone over our heads.

Just before I press the button to take a picture, he sucks on the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. I squeal, pulling away as my finger triggers the red circle. The light flashes, capturing the two of us in a playful moment that I have a hard time believing includes me.

But it is me. It’s my face pulled together in a carefree laugh. It’s Gray’s arm extended across my chest, keeping me close to him. It’s our heads sharing a pillow with a rugby team logo stamped on it, and it’s his dimple sunk in his cheek as he laughs at my reaction.

Before I can think about it and talk myself out of sending the image, I fire it off to the group chat.

Their responses come immediately.

Gianna: OMG YOU ARE MY HERO.

Audrey: Oh, wow!

Gianna: And I thought you didn’t listen to a thing I said. I stand corrected.

Audrey: How do you feel, Astrid?

Gianna: Hopefully, she feels sore and used. What kind of a question is that?

Audrey: I’m trying to check on her emotions.

Gianna: Don’t ruin this for her, Auddie.

I giggle as Gray settles next to me on his side, reading their messages. “I don’t know what to say about them.”

“They’re a good balance, I think. Good and bad.”

“You can say that again.”

Gianna: Ignore us. Go get you some dick, babe.

Audrey: Enjoy yourself. Call me when you get home.

Gianna: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU.

I click the button on the side of my phone and drop it beside me.

Gray’s fingers skim beneath my shirt, drifting across my stomach and over my hips. It’s as relaxing as it is intoxicating. I listen to him breathe and let my eyes flutter closed.

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” he says.

I hum, trying to determine what kind of fact he wants to know. A historical fact, like my birth year? Does he want to know how I voted in the last election? Or does he want to know something random and pointless?

“Okay,” I say, choosing the latter. “I don’t have any tattoos.”

“Is there a reason, or you just haven’t gotten one?”

“There’s never been something that I feel strongly enough about to want it on my skin forever. It feels like a commitment.” I grin. “Tell me about yours.”

He lies back and bends his knee, pulling his shorts so I can see the intricate art on his thigh. It’s more delicate than I realized. Each line is so intentional, so precise, that I can tell there are multiple pieces blended instead of one large design.

“Well, each one of these means something to me,” he says, tracing the dark ink.

“The first one I got was this rosary. I got it the weekend after my parents died. I was struggling and just having a really hard time accepting that they were gone, and I was drawn to the pain of the needle more than anything.”

I press a kiss to his shoulder. “May I ask what happened to them?”

“Sure.” He clears his throat without looking at me.

“Dad had to go to Kansas to pick up a horse a buddy of his was training, and Mom decided to tag along for once. A tornado ripped through the little town they were staying in during the night. The storm came out of nowhere. Mom died instantly, but Dad pulled through for a few days. We were able to talk to him and tell him goodbye. So I guess that’s good. ”

My heart splinters at the pain on his face. How tragic . I kiss his shoulder again before placing my hand on his stomach, just letting him know I’m here.

“So that’s the rosary,” he says, heaving a breath. “This is the number nine in roman numerals since I’m number nine in rugby. The cigar is for Pap, and the blackbird for the Blackbird Ranch, obviously. The cowboy hat is for Hartley.”

“I would think a heart would’ve been the logical choice,” I say, hoping my joke will ease the tension in his voice.

He chuckles. “I was a little inebriated and not thinking clearly when I chose that.”

“I guess that’s a reason not to drink and ink.”

His chuckle turns to laughter, and the light is back in his eyes. My shoulders fall in relief.

My attention falls on a snowflake at the bottom of the design. It’s tiny, barely noticeable, but its daintiness is beautiful, and I can’t help but wonder what it represents.

“So if you had to get a tattoo for the things that mean something to you,” he says, putting his leg down, “what would you get?”

“Gosh, I don’t know.”

He grabs the chocolate bar and unwraps it. “It’s not like you’re really getting them. You don’t have to overthink it.”