Page 5 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)
CHAPTER
FOUR
Micah
Then
I stare down at the message on my phone, heart pounding so hard it’s about to burst from my chest. I’m surprised it hasn’t. I’m surprised I still have it after what happened two weeks ago.
I slept with Ezekiel Aleks. I hooked up with a fucking NFL player. Me . I’m not special. I’m just some freshly graduated graphic designer with a floundering online business and a frowned-upon side hustle. Somehow, though, I impressed Aleks—while drunk and nearly vomiting all night—enough that he’s texting me two weeks later.
Ezekiel Aleks just texted me. At five in the evening on a Friday. And all he said was, “ Hey, this is Kiss. ”
Reminding myself of how I’ve sworn off dating men, I allow myself one very mature shriek of excitement before responding.
Me: Hi, this is Micah.
There. That sounds okay, right? He wasn’t flirty, so there’s no need for me to try to be flirty back, is there? Maybe I should have. What if he thinks I’m boring? Should I have?—
“Mickey, what are you doing? Get down!” Frankie’s panicked voice has me startling, and I waver clumsily in my heels . . . which are perched precariously on the narrow strip of wood along the footboard of my bed. I quickly find my balance, feeling like a gymnast on a four-inch beam.
Sheepishly, I peer at Frankie through my lashes. “Sorry. I climb things when I . . .”
He sashays over to me, extending a hand to help me down from the terrifying perch. “When you what?” Once I’m on the floor, Frankie stands taller than me, and his heels have a good inch and a half on mine, so I’m forced to tip my head up to meet his eyes. It only takes one look for him to understand what happened. “Oh. A boy texted you, huh? Got you all pent-up, so you had to climb to let out some of that energy? Hm.” He inspects his long, flawless nails with an air of indifference. “I usually climb the man rather than the bed, but you do you, boo.”
Frankie has been my friend since before I started dancing at Mischief. Actually, he was the one who invited me to try out as a dancer after we met in a pole dancing class he taught. I’d attended mostly for shits and giggles but quickly realized I enjoyed it and gave the club a shot since I was strapped for cash anyway. We’ve been close ever since. He’s all long legs and perfectly styled blond hair that’s never out of place, and his confidence is endless. I’m so lucky to have had him take me under his wing.
“It’s just a thing I do,” I mutter as I spray my shoulders with a shimmery, strawberry-scented perfume. “But it’s nothing. He’s probably just wondering if I’m going to Tahegin’s sister’s birthday party at the end of the month or something. It’s not— We’re not— I swore off guys my senior year of college because I?—”
My phone, forgotten on my bed, chimes with a new text notification, and my stomach jumps to my throat. Disregarding the conversation with Frankie, I dart for the device, but my friend snatches it up first.
“Honey.” He levels me with a knowing look, gesturing up and down my flustered body. “This isn’t the reaction of someone who swore off men or who is just making birthday party plans. You like him.”
“We hooked up. Once. Two weeks ago,” I admit. “But we’re just acquaintances. I’m sure this isn’t anything other than a check-in.”
“I bet my first set that this is a booty call.”
Emotions come pouring in all at once. Excitement. Dread. Panic. Desire. “No.” I shake my head with conviction. “Definitely not.”
He raises a brow. “Why not?”
“I can’t do hookups,” I confess, falling onto my bed with a heavy sigh. I stare at the plain ceiling, blinking against the heavy makeup on my eyelids and lashes. We’re getting ready to go to the club for the night. It’s Friday, one of the busiest nights at Mischief and one of our usual evenings to work. With my graphic design business not yet bringing in enough cash to support me, I’m stuck dancing at the club. No, not stuck. I’ve loved dancing my entire life—ballet as a kid, cheer as a teen, and now working at Mischief.
The bed dips as he sits beside me. “As in, you don’t do repeats? Because obviously, you do hookups if you and mister—” He checks the contact name on the screen. “Kiss. That’s interesting. So, you’ve already hooked up with him. What’s another round?”
Rising to my elbows, I meet his gaze and in all seriousness say, “I will literally fall in love with him if he so much as asks how my day was.”
“Well then.” Frankie glances at the text, smacking his teeth. “Seems like you’re in trouble.”
The phone dings again.
“What is it? What did he say?” I climb to my knees as anticipation floods my veins.
Frankie smirks. “He said, ‘How was your day, bunny?’ Aw, that’s adorable. Then, he sent a dick pic.”
“No way! Let me see!”
“Kidding,” he laughs and tosses the phone to me. “But he did ask if you’re free tonight.”
I groan. “Oh no.”
“Looks like I’ll be dancing my set and yours tonight. Go get him, bunny .”