Page 14 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Micah

Now

Turning down Zeke’s offer to share the bed was a mistake.

Not because I wish I could have woken up warm in his arms—I don’t, damnit, I don’t—but because the couch is not comfortable. At all. While I’m used to waking up sore after a long night of dancing, it’s never been this bad.

The bags under my eyes from a poor night’s sleep are obvious as I log in to the video call for Neverending Designs’ Monday morning meeting—even after I snuck into the bathroom connected to the bedroom to put on some makeup. I’m dressed in a cute floral off-the-shoulder romper, which is lightweight and was easy enough to put on without making too much noise and waking Zeke.

After untangling myself from his embrace last night, we’d gone our separate ways within the cabin to unpack before ordering room service. Which—I silently noted—I’m pretty sure is connected to Tahegin’s card since he was the one to book the room. Zeke and I made small talk while we ate, something we’ve always been good at. Back before things got weird between us, we used to spend hours talking about everything and nothing. He’s the kind of guy who will argue his side with such resolve you almost start to believe he’s right. Then, we’ll look up the correct answer or watch the scene from the movie reference in question only to realize he was wrong the whole time. I think he’s done it on purpose in the past just to keep the night from ending too soon. I never minded watching an entire movie just to say, “Yep, you’re right. Ryan Gosling only took his shirt off once,” because, come on, it’s Ryan Gosling.

It felt different last night because after our easygoing conversation, we had to say goodbye. Zeke retired to the bedroom while I took the uncomfortable couch, and it felt anything but right.

The couch felt even worse.

“Look at me being on time,” I cheer quietly as Cierra connects the video call. David told me in no uncertain terms that he expects me to attend this meeting as well as have my assignment turned in by end of day on Friday. So here I am with my work laptop propped up on the coffee table of a cruise ship suite while on vacation.

The worst part is, I don’t even need my job at Neverending Designs—I make more than enough at Mischief to support myself—and yet it’s the one causing me the most grief.

Cierra gives an encouraging hoot as she carries the screen to the conference room. “Good morning, Micah! I like your hair. Ooh, is that your cute romper? I love that one.”

“Thank you, and yes it is.” Standing, I give her a little twirl, then sit down on the floor rug again and sip on my freshly brewed coffee. “Did you get the designs I sent you last week? I couldn’t decide between crimson or scarlet for the jerseys.” It’s a group shot of the whole football team, much like the poster I made for Mischief, and I want it to be perfect. It is my friends’ team, after all.

She purses her magenta-painted lips at me. “You could have just gone with—oh, I don’t know— ruby like their mascot.”

“You and I both know that is too on the nose.”

“You’re right,” she chuckles. “Which is why I went with scarlet.”

“Damn, I would have picked crimson.”

“I forgive you.”

Our other coworkers begin filing into the room, so Cierra sets her laptop on the far end of the table. She adjusts it until I can see everyone and the screen where David displays the assignments for the week. I sip quietly on my coffee as everyone takes their seats, and David begins the meeting. He casts me frequent glances as if ensuring I’m paying attention and not shirking this meeting in favor of my vacation.

That’s why when the single-cup coffee maker behind me begins to whir, David’s eyes go wide, and he stumbles over his assignments. It’s so obvious that it makes my coworkers turn to look as well.

I stare at Cierra’s gaping mouth and pray it’s a giant spider behind me.

Peeking hesitantly over my shoulder, I note that, thankfully, Zeke is wearing underwear. They may be dark green, short boxer briefs and largely tented in the front, but at least he isn’t fully nude.

Small victories, right?

He has no idea he’s on video as he leans back against the counter—all long limbs, rippling muscles, and messy hair—and gulps coffee so hot he sucks air through his teeth after. The sound is loud in the stunned silence of my work meeting.

“Zeke!” I hiss, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. “I’m on a video call!”

“What?”

“I’m working!”

“Work on vacation?” he mutters to himself, appalled, before raising his voice to tell me, “Don’t mind me. I’ll be totally quiet.”

“Can you be totally quiet and not mostly naked ?” I demand through gritted teeth and a faux smile.

His eyes flicker to the screen, only now noticing the people gawking at his abs and semi-erect dick. “Oh, hello! I didn’t see you guys there.” He walks closer, and his towering frame causes the screen to fill with his crotch.

Somebody, anybody, save me before I die of mortification.

“Don’t be rude, bunny,” Zeke says with a nudge to my shoulder as he squats beside me to put his face in the frame. At least it’s better than his dick. “Introduce me to your coworkers.”

“Zeke—”

In the video, a previously reclined John sputters, arms pinwheeling as he tries to save himself from falling out of his office chair. “Is that Ezekiel Aleks?”

Zeke smiles goofily and waves. “Hi, what’s your name?”

“Excuse me,” I manage to squeak at my computer before mashing the mute button for my microphone and turning to the oblivious man next to me. “You cannot be here right now! This is my job, and you are naked!”

He quirks a brow at that. “I’ve modeled jockstraps and given interviews in a towel fresh out of a locker room shower. Any of your coworkers can google me and find pictures that expose a lot more than what these boxers cover. This is nothing.”

Sighing at his nonchalance when I know I’ll be hearing about this for the rest of my career with Neverending Designs, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Zeke. You know this is not normal or okay.”

The charming grin on his face transforms into an adorable pout, and he blinks up at me through lashes so dark and long that every dancer at Mischief would be jealous of them. “I really didn’t know you were in a meeting, bunny.”

I blink at the quick change in his demeanor and the sincerity in his voice. “I know.”

“If I had, I wouldn’t have walked out here like this. It’s actually a little embarrassing, but I’ve learned it’s best to lean into these kinds of moments. People expect me to be outgoing, carefree, and body positive—which I am,” he quickly assures. “I just still get embarrassed for being over—or, in this case, under—dressed, too.”

“Oh, Zeke.” The uninhibited display of vulnerability is enough to have me forgetting about the video call in progress, my hand coming up to land delicately over his heart, but then I see the twitch at the corner of his mouth and the quick sideways glance he sends the computer. Wait, is he— I gasp and slap his chest. “You asshole. You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Sorry, bunny. I couldn’t resist.” Grinning wide, he ruffles my hair, dislodging the quick bun I’d pinned up earlier. “You’re too cute when you blush.”

Sure enough, by the time he stands and disappears into the bedroom, my cheeks are hotter than Satan’s nutsack. I quickly adjust my hair, take a steadying breath, and unmute the mic. “Okay, guys. I apologize for the interruption. Now, where were we?”

It takes a second for their dumbfounded expressions to return to normal, and Cierra has to kick David’s knee to snap him out of his stupor. “Right, um—” He clears his throat before giving me a stern look. “Please no more distractions, Micah. This is a professional meeting.”

“And that was a half-naked professional football player,” one of my gossipy coworkers mutters under her breath.

David purses his lips. “Back to what I was saying, the Emeralds are having some complications with their coaching staff, so Micah, I want mock-ups of their entire coaching roster so we have them ready to use in any case. John, as for?—”

My jaw goes slack because that is not what he’d been saying. Five minutes ago, he was acknowledging the fact I’m supposed to be on vacation and asking me to just keep an open line of communication in case of an emergency. There had been no talk about the Emeralds or their entire staff roster.

Cierra, wide-eyed once again, stares back at me through the camera. She’s noticed, too, how David has gone back on his words after Zeke’s appearance.

“That concludes our?—”

I quickly raise my hand and interrupt. “Excuse me, David. I just want to be clear about my assignment.”

Snapping his fingers, he points at me and says, “Ah, right. I knew I was forgetting something.”

Whew. Okay. He’s remembered I’m out of office this week and will give me some leeway with the?—

“There,” he declares after typing on his phone for a second. “I just sent you that roster so you can get started.”

Son of a?—

“David.” I smile through gritted teeth, trying to keep my composure. “Can I have a word with you? Privately.”

He dismisses my coworkers with a nod, and we both remain silent as they shuffle from the room, a few of them sending me concerned looks on their way out. “What is it, Micah?” David asks brusquely as he rifles through some papers on the table. “I don’t have all day.”

“I don’t either because I’m on vacation this week, remember? I only attended this meeting because you said it was mandatory.”

“I remember what I said.”

“Then you remember me requesting the week off and you approving it, save for this meeting, because I’m literally not in the country.”

“What I don’t recall is you informing your supervisor that you’re sleeping with an NFL player, which is a conflict of interest. I’ll have to check company policy, but this could be grounds for termination.” He tries his best to appear apologetic. It doesn’t work.

“Not that it’s any of your business whether he and I are sleeping together—which, let me tell you, if we were, my back wouldn’t be aching like a motherfucker from sleeping on the sofa—but even if we were, how could it be a conflict of interest? Neverending Designs is a contracted company working for the NFL, and Zeke is a player for an NFL team. Our jobs are so far removed from each other, we’d never cross paths at work, much less have a conflict of interest.”

David’s shoulders sag with what seems to be relief, and he leans closer to the computer screen. When he speaks, his tone is softer. Hopeful. “You didn’t sleep with him?”

Walking a fine line and knowing I shouldn’t encourage his behavior, I recklessly spin my camera to show him the blanket and pillow still draped on the couch. “I slept there. All by myself.”

When I turn the camera around, there’s a wistful smile on David’s face.

It gives me the creeps.

He’s seriously doing this? He thought I was sleeping with someone, so he gave me an impossible assignment to try and make me too busy to enjoy my vacation. By telling him I didn’t sleep with Zeke last night, now he looks all hopeful as if I’m going to—what? Run into his arms? Hell no.

“Can I have until next Wednesday on the assignment?” I ask while he’s distracted by daydreams. Wednesday is still pushing it, considering how many mock-ups I’ll have to do, but hopefully, he’ll accept some generic sketches we can fine-tune later. “I’m only here with my friends until Saturday morning, so I can for sure work on it this weekend.”

“Your friends,” David mutters to himself, nodding as if solving a complex puzzle. After a moment, he shakes his head to clear it before focusing on me. “Wednesday? Yes, we can swing that. You know what? Take until next Friday. Like I said, they’re having trouble selecting positions, so maybe by then, they’ll have worked something out. Don’t stress, Micah. Have fun with your friends this week. Oh, and have you decided what you’re wearing to the awards banquet? I thought we could coordinate and match.”

I’m shaken by his sudden change in attitude and have to physically hold back my shudder. This feels so wrong. So . . . gross. It wasn’t like this in the beginning. Sure, he’d eye me a little too long or get flustered when I directed a question at him, but his responses have only grown worse, whereas I’d hoped they’d fade. Now, he’s treating me differently because of the way I look and dress, and he’s lashing out when he thinks I’m intimate with someone. He’s jealous—with no reason to be. I have never blurred the lines between us, nor will I ever. It was one thing when he had a little crush, but this jealousy is nearly enough that I don’t want to go back to the office. It’s not like I need the money. I love graphic design—so much that I thought it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. The truth is now I enjoy my nights working at Mischief over facing David in the office. I’d intended to quit dancing once I knew my job at Neverending Designs could sustain me, but since starting there, I haven’t been able to bring myself to leave Mischief. I like it too much.

But I could quit Neverending Designs . . .

“Knock, knock! Open up!” Pounding on the door has me glancing over my shoulder as a—thankfully clothed—Zeke moves to open it. Tahegin floods in with all his morning cheeriness, my grumpy best friend trailing reluctantly behind him. “I have our itineraries for today, and they are jam-packed . I’m talking, we should have been at breakfast five minutes ago, okay? Let’s go! Hustle!”

“Is that—” David’s voice makes me look over to see him squinting at the screen. “Tahegin Ellingsworth and Hendrix Avery? How do you know all these football players?”

Smiling, more like grimacing, I blurt, “Sorry, gotta go!” then slam the laptop closed before pointing a sharp indigo fingernail at the man who has been my closest friend since we roomed together in college. “Rix. You, here, now. Gin, Zeke, go somewhere else. I need to vent.”