Page 7

CHAPTER 7

CHRISTINE

W ith my noise canceling headphones playing my favorite playlist and my hips rocking to the steady beat, I switch the washed clothes to the dryer. This laundry room is bigger than my bedroom back in North Carolina and has lots of open space for me to get my groove on. I never dance in front of anyone else, and I usually confine it to my own room or my car, but I’ve had the house to myself for over twenty four hours. My mom and Bert went home mid-morning yesterday, and Griffin was already gone by then. The Silverbacks had an away game, and I’m not sure when he’s coming back. I already miss my mom. She might be a bit controlling when it comes to my life, but I know she loves me. It’s been only the two of us since my parents split when I was two. And since my dad lives in Oregon, I don’t get to see him often.

This house is large, so being alone here took some getting used to. I set the alarm system like Griffin showed me and locked myself in my room with E.Z., who was great company. He slept on my bed all night.

I start folding all my clothes that are finished drying. The counter is long and perfect for this task. I haven’t done laundry since I arrived, and I’ve been running out of clothes. As it is, I’m wearing one of Nelson’s old t-shirts and my last clean pair of pajama bottoms.

One of my favorite songs starts playing through my headphones and I let loose. Stretching out the towel in my hands, I raise it above my head and move my arms from side to side, mimicking the motion of my hips. My knees bending, I slowly rock down to the ground and then back up again. Repeatedly rolling my hips, I spin slowly around and then scream. The towel falls on my head before dropping to the floor. Griffin’s in the doorway, watching me, an amused smile quirking his lips.

Shoving the headphones down to rest on my shoulders, I place my palm over my frantically beating heart. “Jesus, Griffin. You scared the fuck out of me.” I quickly grab the towel and toss it on the counter.

He snickers. “I’m sorry about that. I was waiting for the right moment to interrupt.”

Now that my heart rate is returning to normal, embarrassment has set in. “How long were you standing there?”

“Not long.” His expression makes me question the validity of his reply.

I want this moment to be over, so I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “How was the game?”

“Good. We won. But I barely played.”

“Is that why you got the victory?” I joke, returning to folding my laundry.

“Maybe.” He winks.

“Why didn’t you play much?”

“It was the last game of the regular season, and since it wasn’t a division opponent, the starters only played for the first quarter.” He joins me at the counter and picks up the same towel I dropped. “Our parents got home fine?” He asks, neatly folding the length.

“Yep. My mom texted me in the afternoon. She said it was an easy drive back.”

“Good.” He picks up a pair of my flannel pajama bottoms and peels something from them, chuckling. Hooked on his finger is one of my thongs.

“Oh my God.” I snatch them up, burying them in my pile of folded clothes. My face burns from the flush creeping over my cheeks.

He neatly folds my pajama bottoms and places them on the counter. “How was E.Z. while I was gone?” He grabs a towel, folds it in half, then folds it again.

“He was a doll and kept me company. Just an FYI, he sleeps with me now.”

“Lucky guy,” he says, flashing a grin at me.

My eyes widen as I struggle to form a reply. Between his flirty words and perfect smile, I’m dumbstruck. Feigning a sudden interest in my folding methods, I make sure the edge of each crease is knife sharp. “What does E.Z. stand for?” I finally ask.

“My favorite place to be—the endzone.”

I laugh. “I should’ve figured that out for myself.”

“What are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“You’re looking at it.”

“How do you feel about pizza for dinner?”

“I love pizza anytime.”

“Me too. There’s a place nearby I’ll order from. What toppings do you like?”

“I’m fine with whatever.”

“I’ll order and let you know when it’s here.”

“Sounds good.”

He leaves the room, and it feels like the oxygen returns. I draw in a deep breath and continue folding laundry until I’m finished. I carry the basket of clothes up to my room and put everything away. Glancing down at Nelson’s shirt that’s three sizes too big and has holes around the neckline, I decide it’s best to change. I pull on a clean pink t-shirt and add one of my bookish hoodies on top. This one says I put my book down to be here.

I grab my phone from my desk and then head downstairs. I find Griffin in the kitchen, eating chips straight from the bag.

“I thought you ordered pizza.”

“I did, but I’m starving. Think of this like pregaming before the pizza.”

I laugh. “Gotcha.”

He holds the bag out toward me. “Want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m saving my appetite.”

The doorbell rings. “That would be dinner now.” He sets the open bag on the counter and hurries toward the front door. I roll the top of the chip bag down and clip it shut before placing it back in the pantry. I grab plates, utensils, and napkins, setting them on the island in preparation.

He returns to the kitchen with his hands full. He sets everything on the granite surface. “Let’s watch TV while we eat.” He opens a container of fries before the pizza boxes. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you for this. It smells amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

I take two slices of pepperoni and add a small mound of fries. I grab a napkin and set off toward the living room area. Lowering to the couch, I set my plate on the coffee table and drape a napkin over my lap. Should I wait for Griffin before I start eating? I don’t want to be rude.

He sits next to me a minute later, his gaze landing on my untouched pizza. “Did you wait for me?”

“Yep.”

He smiles. “You’re more polite than my teammates, for sure.”

I give a quick shrug with one shoulder. “I figured it’s the least I can do.”

He tips his chin toward my plate. “Dig in before it gets cold.” He pops a fry in his mouth.

I don’t need to be told twice. Holding the large slice with both my hands, I lean forward and bite off the pointy part. My toes tap against the hardwood floor as I chew.

“It’s so good your feet are dancing,” Griffin points out.

I nod. “My toes are linked to my tastebuds. Whenever I eat delicious food they automatically move.”

“Now I know your tell and you can’t lie about liking something.”

“Why would I lie about liking food?”

“To spare my feelings.”

“Are you planning on cooking for me?”

He laughs. “Hell no. I don’t even cook for myself.”

“Let me know when you want to collect on your bet win. I still owe you cupcakes.”

“Oh yeah. How’d I forget about that? How would you feel about making them tonight?”

“Pizza for dinner and cupcakes for dessert? Works for me.”

“Me too.” He tears a chunk of crust with his teeth, and while he chews he plucks the remote from the table.

“What do you feel like watching?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something that’ll entertain us without being heavy.”

“Gotcha. Something brainless.”

I laugh. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want to get emotionally invested in some story and then I’ll have to binge all the episodes.”

He flips through options. “You’re not a fan of TV?”

“I don’t dislike it, but I prefer to read.” He chooses something. “What are we watching?”

His lips mischievously curl. “Blinded by Love. When he sees my lack of reaction, he pauses the program. “It’s a reality dating show where they don’t meet in person until after they’re engaged.”

“What? Who would get engaged to someone they’ve never seen?”

“So you’re saying you’re shallow and looks matter?” he teases.

“I’ve never given it much thought. I knew what every guy I’ve dated looked like before I agreed to go out with them. What about you? Do you think what a person looks like matters?”

“Like you, I’ve never been in a position where I didn’t know the person beforehand. I guess in a situation like on the show, I could potentially fall for someone based on their personality.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “But what if you didn’t find them attractive when you saw them?”

“Maybe I’d be so in love with them it wouldn’t matter to me.”

“I guess it’s possible.”

He restarts the episode. “Let’s watch and see how it goes. Maybe we’ll have a better idea after seeing some episodes.”

I quickly get sucked into the drama as I finish my dinner. Crumpling my napkin, I place it on my empty plate and settle back into the couch as Griffin already has. E.Z. jumps up, lying down between us. We both go to stroke his back at the same time and our fingers touch. We yank our hands back, as if we’ve been shocked, and mumble apologies. I settle for scratching behind E.Z.’s ears and Griffin pats his back. E.Z.’s purr is like the low hum of a motor.

When the end of the first episode rolls around, Griffin turns to me.

“Want to keep watching?”

“Yes. I’m already sucked in.” And I’m enjoying his company.

He grins. “Me too.”

We continue with another episode. I can see the chemistry developing between some of the contestants and sometimes they have a connection with more than one person.

“Ooh, I see some love triangles growing,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Abby has a connection with Mario and Kelvin. When that happens in romance books it’s called a love triangle because there’s three of them.”

“That makes sense. Who do you think she’ll choose?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh come on. You’re the romance expert here. You must have a feel for one or the other.”

I laugh. “Being an avid reader doesn’t mean I know more about romance than the average person.”

His grin is sly. “Do you read dirty books?” His question takes me off guard, and for a second or two all I can do is gape at him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Before you assume to know what I read, let me tell you. Yes, some of the books have sex, some even have detailed sex, and some barely have any. For me, it’s about the stories first. If there’s good smut in there… Well, that’s just a bonus.”

Now he’s the one gaping at me. He shakes his head. “Christine, Christine. I think there’s a lot more to you than you show.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not. But right now I’m just a woman who wants to watch this show.”

He laughs. “Touché.”