The cheat sheet, p.25
The Cheat Sheet, page 25
The deeper I go into the box, the more I recognize things I haven’t seen in years. A concert ticket from a Bruno Mars show he took me to for my birthday (and got us backstage passes to, which he pretended to randomly find on the sidewalk because I never allow him to buy me extravagant things). Toward the bottom, I find a gum wrapper with my phone number scribbled on it from high school. I remember this day like it was yesterday. We had run together for the first time that morning before classes. That afternoon in homeroom, he asked me if I’d want to run together again sometime. Of course I said yes, and we exchanged numbers. I didn’t save the slip of paper he gave me with his number, though, and now I feel like a horribly unromantic monster!
Once I’ve gone through every single item in this box and spread it all out on the bed around me, I meet his gaze. He finally comes near me and plucks the scrunchie I’m clutching like it’s a million-dollar bill out of my hands. “This smelled exactly like your hair. Coconut. I should have given it back to you, but I couldn’t.” He tosses it in the box. I’m never getting that scrunchie back. Next, he grabs my hands to tug me up to stand with him. “Do you see now? You’re always giving me things that remind you of me, but I’m over here stealing things that remind me of you. I’m not humoring you, Bree. I’m not taking this lightly. I’m so devastatingly in love with you, it hurts sometimes—and I have been since high school.”
Hope, hope, hope. I hear it beating in my ears.
“I’ve been dying for you to love me back—but I never thought you would. Remember when you found out I’m celibate and I told you it was to help my game? That was a complete lie. I’ve been celibate because I am so gone for you I couldn’t even stomach the thought of another woman anywhere near my bed. She would never be you.” He cradles my face. “I love you with everything I am, and that’s never going to change for me. I think I should be the one making sure you’re not just humoring me.”
I can’t take the space between us anymore. I rise up on my toes to lay one soft kiss on his lips, feeling like this has to be a dream and I can do anything I want in my dreams. “I’ve loved you since the day you tied my shoe on the track. You didn’t tell me it was untied, you just tied it.”
The muscles in his jaw jump like he’s swallowing back tears. “Bree, that was the first day we met.” His tone says, Don’t toy with me, woman.
“I know. That’s the day it all started for me.”
His massive shoulders rise and fall in one huge breath, and then his eyes shut like he’s in pain. “Do you mean to tell me…we’ve both loved each other all this time and never said anything?”
I laugh even though it’s not funny at all. I run a finger over one of his eyebrows. “Yes. I think so.”
“But what about college? You completely pushed me away then. I thought I did something wrong.”
Oh. That.
I smooth a hand down the front of his shirt, suddenly very concerned about wrinkles. I guess while we’re emptying our emotional tanks, I might as well go ahead and squeeze a little more out. “I’m so sorry, Nathan. I pushed you away because I was terrified. I could see the way you were thinking of turning down your UT scholarship to stay home with me, and although I never told you, I was really depressed after the car accident. I was afraid you were about to completely give up your dreams for me, and after hanging around me in my mopey, angry, defeated state, you’d realize I wasn’t worth your time anymore and resent me. I was scared you’d see me low and heartbroken and not want me like that. So I pushed you away. I’m sorry, Nathan. I Old-Yellered you.”
His hand tenderly cradles my face. “I never would have felt that way. I’ve always just wanted to be the one to take care of you.”
“I know that now. But back then, depression told its own story, and it was hard to hear the truth through it.”
He dips his head and sighs against my throat. “Well, hear me now: I adore you, Bree. When you’re happy or sad, I love you.” Nathan lays a slow, open-mouthed kiss on my neck and climbs up to my mouth.
Heat swirls in my belly, and my head tips back to receive his lips. Softly, they sweep over mine. He gently tastes the corner of my mouth, and I part my lips to reciprocate. I am a puddle. So melted he has to hold me up. Kisses by themselves are nice; kisses after a declaration of love are life-changing.
I’m lifted off the floor and tossed playfully onto his bed. A laugh rips through me until Nathan grabs the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head. His eyes are as dark as the sky at his back. I swallow thickly as he moves to hover over me. His weight. GAH. Golden taut skin. OOF. That ripped abdomen I finally get to dance my fingers across. MMM.
Nathan smiles down at me as I explore every inch of his exposed skin. I rise up and kiss one pec. Then the other. I lightly bite his bicep, and he laughs. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”
I innocently bat my lashes at him, and he dips his head to crush his mouth against mine. This one is not soft or tender. It’s years and years and years of waiting. It’s a desperate breath at the surface of the water when you’re rescued from drowning. I cling to him for dear life. He kisses me deeply, thoroughly, lavishly. His hand slides under the back of my shirt, and that calloused skin scrapes delicious fire over mine. I feel branded.
Nathan is everywhere. And I am full of need. I have fallen for this man so completely, and now we’re finally here together, twisting in his sheets, kissing like it might be ripped away from us at any moment. Kissing like we love each other. He whispers soft declarations over my skin that I won’t repeat. They are for me and me alone.
Suddenly, Nathan pulls away, a drugged look in his eyes when he smooths the hairs away from my face. Breathless, he lets out a guttural groan, coming to some sort of unvoiced conclusion in his head. He adjusts onto his elbow beside me. “Bree, I want everything with you right now more than anything, but…dammit. I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I think we should wait.”
Shocked doesn’t begin to describe how I feel hearing those words, especially since he’s been celibate for so long. But I won’t lie, part of me is sort of grateful. I’m a girl who likes to be prepared for these kinds of things, mentally and physically, and tonight was so unexpected; I know I’m not in the right headspace for it yet. I need a little digesting time.
But then Nathan shocks me in a less-than-pleasant way when he continues, “Actually, I…I sort of want to wait until we’re married.”
WHAT!? My brain screeches to a halt. Did he say married?! Did he propose at some point tonight and I missed it?
My eyes must convey my thoughts because Nathan’s smile widens and he trails his finger down my neck to dance lightly over my collarbone. Conflicting body language there, buddy. “Don’t worry, I’m not proposing yet. But I know you don’t like to be surprised by stuff, so this is me saying I will propose to you at some point. And I’m hoping you’re okay with that time being pretty soon, because I feel like we’ve already been dating for six years, just not officially.”
He’s right, and I tell him so. I’ve never known another human more intimately than I know Nathan, and best friends like us don’t casually date. It was an unspoken agreement that by declaring our feelings, we were saying, I’m all in. You’re it for me.
“I agree,” I say in between his teasing kisses and light nips at my bottom lip. “But why wait until we’re married? That seems so…”
“Old fashioned?” he asks, his fingers feathering down my arm to trace my bare ring finger. He presses a firm kiss against my temple. “I know. I won’t lie, that’s part of the appeal. If I’ve learned anything over the past few weeks, it’s that I’ve never really had to pursue romance before. You know? Savor the little touches”—his knuckles brush against my belly, and it tightens—“instead of just going for it right away.”
A jealous little troll rises up inside me that he’s gone for it right away with so many women before, but I tell it to get lost. Because I’m the one who’s with him now, and hopefully forever.
He gazes into my eyes with a longing smile. “I just want to do things differently with you, Bree.”
I breathe in his scent and let my heart steep in it. “Okay. We’ll wait.” I grin up at him and poke him in the cheek. “You’re such a big softie.”
“With you, yes.”
He kisses me again, this time softly, sweetly, gratefully. He rises up onto one muscled arm to lean over me and turn off the light. That powerful image of muscles and tendons and masculine flesh is the last one I’ll see tonight, and it does nothing to cool me off.
Nathan drops down beside me and pulls me onto his chest. I kiss it. “Just don’t spread it around that I’m a marshmallow,” he says in a teasing tone. “It’ll kill my image.”
“Which image? The one of you secretly sneaking hundred-dollar bills into my widowed neighbor’s mailbox? Or you buying an entire building so little ballerinas can continue to afford their training?”
He kisses the top of my head, and I don’t miss the moment he breathes in the scent of my hair. We’re home in each other’s arms. I nuzzle into his strong chest like a little cat. It is a done deal. I’d marry him in five minutes if that were an option.
“It’s all for you, Bree.”
Saturday, Bree and I sleep in until ten o’clock. I can’t remember the last time I did that. High school, maybe? I wake up a few times and never once feel the urge to get up and get my day going. Everything I want is right here in my arms. Drooling.
Eventually, I’m going to have to leave Bree for a few meetings and then get to the airport for my flight to Houston where we’ll play our last playoff game.
Saturdays are the closest thing I have to an off day during the season because I don’t step foot in the weight room on these days, so it usually gets packed full of meetings. Which…now that I think about it, makes it not an off day. This morning, though, I blew off an early meeting in favor of staring creepily at Bree while she sleeps. I’ll have to deal with Nicole’s wrath, but it’s worth it. I think that’s considered progress.
One of Bree’s hairs gets sucked into her mouth, and when I try to carefully extract it, she jolts awake. Like a jack-in-the-box, she bolts upright in bed, hair eight sizes larger than normal. She whips around to me with wide eyes looking like she just woke from a cryogenic sleep.
“I TEACH A CLASS AT TEN THIRTY!”
A bit yell-y in the mornings. It’s okay, I’ll still keep her.
Throwing the covers off, she sprints from the bed and out of the room. I stare at the empty doorway until two seconds later I hear footsteps racing back. A flash of octopus hair and limbs is all I see before she tackles me on the bed. Hovering over me, her dimples pop and she kisses me with a punctuated POP. “Good morning. I love you.”
I smile and lean up to kiss her more fully, but she tucks her chin.
“UH, no. Neither of us brushed our teeth last night, and morning breath is rank. You get a closed-mouth pucker and NATHANSTOPITRIGHTNOW!” She’s scream-laughing because I’m tickling her ruthlessly.
“You’re saying my breath is bad?! You’ll pay.”
“Let me go! I have class!” She can barely talk, she’s laughing so hard.
“You shouldn’t have come back. That was your first mistake, and now you’re caught.” I stop tickling her long enough to reach into my bedside table, grab my Listerine spray, and take a hit. Her jaw drops at my audacity to keep something like that at my bedside, but what can I say, I’m no amateur here. With her mouth open like a fish, I’m able to give her a spritz.
She cackles laughing, and then I kiss her like I want to. I take my time.
Bree texts me later that she’s late for class and it’s all my fault. I’ll gladly take that fall.
I lean back in the giant, porcelain, clawfoot tub and FaceTime Bree. The call connects just as a bubble pops by my shoulder. Her smiling face fills my screen, harsh studio lights hovering above her head. She squints, and then a smile bursts across her mouth.
“You’re in the bath!!!”
“A bubble bath.” I hold up a handful of suds.
I’ve never seen her look more pleased. I can see the light pink spaghetti straps of her leotard, and the hairs on her neck are matted down with sweat. When she takes the phone with her to sit down with her back leaning against the mirror, I can tell in the reflection that she’s alone. She’s breathing heavily. “And? Completely wonderful, right?”
“I had no idea what I was missing.” Truthfully, I’m pretty bored, but I’ll sit in here every night for the rest of my life if it makes her smile like that. Also, after my talk with Bree last night, I’m ready to start doing some things to take care of my mental health. I also scheduled an appointment with a therapist for next week. Nervous about that one, not gonna lie.
“Only way it could be better is if you were in here—”
“NNOOOPPEEE,” Jamal yells from the other side of the bathroom door.
Our flight got into Houston a few hours ago, and because of the strict curfew the team enforces the night before each game, I’m already in my hotel room for the night. Every player is assigned a suitemate when we travel, and Jamal is usually mine.
“Don’t you start all that. No one wants to hear your bubble bath dirty talk,” he says from the other side of the door where I’m sure he’s lying on the silk pillowcase he brought from home.
“Hi Jamal!” Bree yells into the phone.
“Just put your headphones on,” I tell him.
“No. I’ll still know what’s going on in there, and I’m not okay with that.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re just mad I stole the bathtub before you.”
“YES, I’M MAD!” he says in an indignant tone. “For years I’ve been taking a nightly bubble bath and enjoying the hell out of it, and all of a sudden, your new girlfriend tells you how glorious it is and you usurp my self-care time. Not cool, man.”
Bree looks delighted.
“He wears one of those crackly green masks like yours too,” I tell Bree, not bothering to keep my voice down.
“Yes, I do, and I don’t appreciate your condescending tone. Men can appreciate having good skin too. In fact, you could stand for a pore treatment or two, Nathan. I can see your blackheads through the door.”
My pores are just fine.
“Ignore him,” I tell Bree, sinking a little lower into the water. “So what are you doing at the studio?”
“Oh, I’m just working on the choreography for one of the recital dances coming up.”
“Yeah? Can I see?”
Her cheeks turn pink. Other than when I’ve peeked in on her teaching a class or two over the years, I haven’t seen her really dance since high school, since before the accident. For some reason, it’s always something she keeps to herself. I’m hoping now that things are changing between us, she’ll let me back into that part of her life as well.
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. It’s still rough. There’s not much to see.” Her shoulders are twitching and her head keeps shaking, making her look like an alien trying to do an impression of a Normal Human Being.
“Breeee.” I cut off her blabbering, and she shoots me a look.
“Natthhaannn.”
“Come on. Let me watch you dance. I’ll even put on a bubble beard the whole time to make you feel less embarrassed.”
Jamal interjects again. “UGH, Y’ALL ARE GROSS!”
“Mind your own business!” I say, throwing a bar of soap at the door. I focus my attention on Bree again. “Why don’t you want to dance in front of me?”
Her eyes dart around the room and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Damn, I wish I was there to kiss her. We didn’t have enough time last night or this morning. I need weeks with her—no, years to make up for lost time.
“I’m not as good as you remember.”
“You’re in luck—I don’t remember anything. What even is ballet? Is that the thing where you make all the noises with your shoes?” She laughs and gives me a look that says, Nice try. “Bree, take a good look at me. I’m FaceTiming you from a bubble bath right now. Doesn’t get much more vulnerable for me than that.”
“Fiiiiiine. Okay, you win.” The phone gets placed on the floor and angled up so I can see the entire studio. Bree leans down toward the screen and points a finger at me. “But just know, I’m not as fluent or graceful as I used to be. And the choreography needs a lot of work. That’s the whole point of me staying late tonight.”
I hold a bubbly hand up in the air. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”
Her smile slants. “Mhmm. Sure.”
The sound of soft piano fills the air, and Bree stands in the center of the floor. Her bubble gum pink leotard is painted to her body, making her look soft and delicate, but then her favorite oversized grey joggers swallow up her lower half, contrasting with her prim and proper upper half. It’s a perfect representation of her personality. She’s wearing them as she always does: rolled down at the waist and cinched up over her calves. Pointe shoes are tied around her ankles, a rainbow of bracelets stacks up one of her arms, and her hair is in a wispy French braid dangling down her back.
Those long lean arms stretch at her sides and glide above her head. She goes up onto her toes like it’s nothing and begins a soft walk that turns into a series of impressive turns. I sit in awe, watching Bree’s powerful, graceful body twirl, jump, and completely captivate me until my water turns to ice. I don’t care though, because I don’t ever want to look away.
We don’t talk at all during this time. It’s clear she is hyper focused on her movements, and I wouldn’t dare ruin this glimpse into heaven for the world. Quiet confidence pulses through her veins as she leaps. The angles of her body are sharp glass and soft velvet at the same time. She creates the illusion that she’s as delicate as lace, but when she leaps off the ground with her legs flawlessly extended in opposite directions and then lands—barely making a sound—you realize she is not to be underestimated. She is strong and fierce in her delicate skin. Life tried to hold her down, but she gave it the middle finger and stood up again.
