Chapter Eleven: Keeping the Obvious Hidden

Couple Notes for this chapter:

- NSFW

- I've included the song that's mentioned in the chapter.

- Thanks for reading!

****Pamela****

The rays of the rising sun peeked through the blinds, filling the room with slivers of warm light. One was particularly relentless in its attempts to wake me up, honing in on my closed eyelids, warming them and tempting me to open them up to see the golden, happy hue it cast throughout the room. They were deceiving though, hinting at a warmth that didn’t exist if I ventured out from under the covers and I declared my defiance by pulling the covers over my head and turning my back on the determined ray.

But its absence brought back the cold that I wanted to escape and I snuggled closer to the middle of the bed, reaching my arm and leg over for the heat that usually radiated from Trev’s body. Usually. . .But that morning the coldness of the sheets seeped into my skin and jostled me further from sleep, pushing away any remaining grogginess, and brought to my mind the still blurry image of Trev kissing my cheek as he got out of bed. It was enough to make me finally give in and fling the covers back, sighing as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shivering as my bare feet touched the freezing wood floor.

“I hate winter.” I mumbled to myself as I walked across the room to the dresser. It was mostly true. The beauty of a freshly fallen snow could make me smile, but eventually its beauty always faded and only gray slush, bare trees, and freezing temperatures remained. Along with cold wooden floors. . .the thought made me shiver again and I quickened my effort to find something warm to wear.

The cold that remained in my bones as I left the bedroom made me sneak a quick glance at the thermostat; one moment wishing that it wasn’t working so I could blame it for my inability to get warm and then the next relieved that it was so I could turn it up a couple degrees. It was one subject that we hadn’t agreed on and I had little hope we ever would: What temperature the apartment should be.

We were polar opposites; he always warm, me always cold, and no matter how much I protested, the first couple of nights he insisted that the temperature stay where I liked it. The tossing and turning throughout the first nights and sweaty sheets in the mornings were the last straw though, and on the third night I snuck back into the hallway when Trev got ready for bed and turned the temperature back down.

He retaliated in his own way. Every morning, before taking a shower, he would secretly turn the temperature back up and then I would wake up and turn it back down. Starting a cycle of each of us sneaking past the thermostat, making sure that the other wasn’t too hot or too cold.  But with the weather outside turning colder I couldn’t stop myself that morning from turning it up even more and quickly shuffled into the kitchen for another source of heat.

I smiled at the memory that popped into my head as I reached to turn on the coffee maker. He got so frustrated with it the first morning he tried to make a pot. I couldn’t keep myself from laughing at him then, especially after hearing his huff and seeing his face scrunch up in mock frustration when he saw how easy it was to turn on. 

It was similar to the first time that I tried to watch his TV. He had so many remotes and electronics, making it impossible to figure out which one turned on each device. He chuckled at me as he picked one up and with an exaggerated ease, turned the TV on with one push of a button. I made a comment about it not being my fault, comparing his apartment to being the Batcave since he seemed to have all of the most recent gadgets and gizmos. More of his teasing had followed.

The familiar sound of him singing in the shower interrupted my daydreams of the past weeks and I smiled as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Of all the things that I learned about him, his singing in the shower surprised me the most. Hardly a morning passed that he didn’t, the rare exception being when he felt stressed or rushed, and I quickly learned that he had an extensive repertoire.

“I’ll be your cloud up in the sky. I’ll be your shoulder when you cry. I hear your voices when you call me, I am your angel.” I shook my head and smiled as I recognized the song, continuing to enjoy the impromptu concert as I finished my coffee and watched as the rising sun peeked through the spaces of the surrounding city buildings. At the sound of the shower shutting off, I resumed what had become our normal morning routine, pouring him a cup of coffee, adding two heaping teaspoons of sugar to it, and expectantly awaited his arrival in the kitchen.

The brilliant smile that he greeted me with when he rounded the corner made my stomach do several flips and the contentment I felt when his arms pulled me against his shower warmed chest threatened to make me forget the teasing I planned to give him. “Morning.” He whispered in my ear, reminding me of a secret, like his singing in the shower and I smirked as I raised my lips up to his ear.

“Morning. . .Celine.” I let out a small giggle that made his eyes squint as he chuckled. “I didn’t know you were a fan of hers.” I continued as I pulled my head back to look into his eyes. They twinkled with amusement and his entrancing grin grew even bigger.

“Besides Willie, you’re the only one who knows.” He admitted and before I could tease him anymore, his lips hungrily claimed mine. In seconds I was clinging to him, trying to keep my balance as he once again proved that almost losing consciousness was an ever possible reality whenever we kissed.

“Then that puts me in very good company I’d say.” I responded once he pulled his lips away and I finally caught my breath. He smiled and nodded as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

“He and Emily are anxious to meet you.” At that point, the only people who knew about our relationship were Paisley and Ryan, who we couldn’t hide anything from and had been immeasurably helpful with aiding in keeping it hidden, and his brother Will and his wife, Emily. The later was by accident, during a phone call between Trev and him where I tried to run out of the room before a threatening sneeze could escape. But I wasn’t quick enough, and the interrogation that Will gave Trev after, led to us giving in and letting his brother in on our secret.

“He and I met before. He just doesn’t remember.” I reminded him of the time we briefly met at our college graduation. “I must not have made that big of an impression on him.” I joked as I wiped some water up from the counter.

His eye squinting laugh made me smile and eagerly await the smartass comment that I knew would follow. “I’m pretty sure you make an impression on everyone you meet.”

I flung the towel at him, leading him to chuckle again. “Says the pot to the kettle.” There was no arguing from him, only a blinding, smartass grin and I fake rolled my eyes at him, knowing that it was the response he was looking for.

It only took two strides for him to cross the kitchen and press his body into mine. His low voice sending shivers up my spine as he begged. “How many times can I get you to do that at tomorrow’s press conference?”

“What?” I shrugged as I faked innocence. “You mean roll my eyes and laugh when you say and do stupid things before thinking?” I paraphrased what he said the night we finally confessed our feelings to each other and he let out a short snort before smirking down at me.

“There’s usually some thought that goes into it, but yeah.”

“I don’t know.” I pretended to think hard about the possibility of it happening. “The record so far is four. . .”

He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest and dramatically looked off into the distance before confidently declaring. “Then tomorrow, I’ll make it five.” He clenched his fist right at the end of his announcement, accentuating his determination. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at his over dramatics, which he of course noticed. Instead of smiling though, he leaned his head slightly towards mine and with as much seriousness as he could muster after being such a dramatic smart ass, raised his eyebrows and advised me. “Save those for the press conference.”

It was said as if he was giving me the most assured, sound advice and I had to fight off the urge to give him another one, knowing if that I did, I’d be delayed even more from taking my shower. I remained victorious only by forcing myself to look at the ground, but it was impossible to stop him from hearing my small chuckle or seeing my head shake and lips smile. I didn’t have to look up to know that he was smiling from his triumph at getting any reaction from me, but I did anyway, just so I could see it before giving him a kiss and leaving him to drink his coffee while I took my overdue shower.

The heat from the water worked its magic and seeped through my skin down into my bones, finally vanquishing any remnants of lingering cold. It was one of my favorite times of the day. When the power of the relaxing water washed over my body, removing any worry, cold, or stress, and plunged it down the drain. Leaving only memories and daydreams to entertain me and as I placed a dollop of shampoo in my hand and rubbed it in my hair, Trev’s comments about eye rolls and press conferences brought to mind another one. The very first one after we confessed our feelings.

It was a complete disaster. So much so, that it led to the first of Ryan’s counseling sessions. Trev and I decided before the game that we wouldn’t look at each other or interact in any way, unless I asked a question. The result was a press conference where we were on edge the whole time, worried that anything we said or did would give us away.

All of his interactions with other reporters were short and our exchange when I asked him my one question could’ve only been characterized as cold. We thought we’d done a great job, until Ryan caught up to us in a hallway.

“What the hell was that?” Ryan whispered, pointing down the hallway towards the press conference room. His eyes darting quickly back and forth, looking at both of us as he not so patiently waited for one of us to answer what he figured was an obvious question.

“What was what?” Trev’s clipped words sounded twice as loud as Ryan’s and left little doubt about how irritated he was about our conversation being interrupted. But Ryan didn’t seem to care or notice, being too fixated on whatever point he intended to make and continued on with even more urgency.  

“That. . .mess of a press conference in there.” His eyes darted back and forth between us, expectantly waiting for us to acknowledge the truth of his statement, but we were still clueless. “Oh for the love of. . .” His voice trailed off as he frantically looked around the nearly empty hallway until spotting a nearby door that he promptly opened and shooed us through.

“First of all. . .” He huffed a little louder, pausing for a moment to stare at us in disbelief. “. . .Who’s bright idea was it to stand in the hallway and look all lovey-dovey at each other?”

His choice of words bewildered both of us but it was Trev who questioned him about it. “Lovey-dovey?”

Ryan nodded. “Yes. Lovey-dovey. You two couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.” We both opened our mouths to disagree but he cut us off. “Why wouldn’t you just meet at your cars like you normally do?”

I had some questions of my own, like how Ryan already knew about Trev and me, but Trev was faster asking his. “Can I answer now? Am I allowed to speak?” His sarcastic request snapped Ryan out of his determined interrogation and he apologized with his eyes, nodding for Trev to continue. “We thought that if we kept meeting at our cars that someone would notice.”

“So you stood in the middle of a hallway where tons of people pass by instead. . .” Ryan hinted and I took a turn at trying to explain.

“We were only there for maybe thirty seconds before you walked up.”

“But it was thirty seconds that people witnessed you outside your normal routines together. That alone is going to raise an interest. You would’ve been better off sticking to something that you normally do, like meeting in the garage. Nothing raises suspicions more than doing something different. Which brings me to the press conference. Red flags went up all over the place with how the two of you acted during that press conference. And if someone has more than half a brain, and paid close attention, they would realize that the common factor in the awkwardness, was the two of you.”

“Because we did the complete opposite of what we normally do.” Trev whispered his understanding and I nodded.

“Exactly! You’re both known for giving each other a hard time during press conferences and yet, there was none of that this time.”

“So you’re suggesting that we meet in garages and annoy each other during press conferences?” I asked as I thought through each of his points.

“Yes. Or better yet, stop meeting in public places. The less you put out there for someone to witness, the better. But your bantering during press conferences is almost legendary so there’s no way you can avoid that.”

With Ryan’s advice, Trev’s press conference antics and my eye rolls returned, but our rendezvous in parking lots, garages, and hallways ended that night.

We soon realized that there would be other challenges though, especially during upcoming away games. Specifically, with Trev and me staying in different hotels and my frustration about what to do about it led to a phone call to Paisley.

“There’s nothing wrong between you and Trev, is there?” She asked after my less than enthusiastic responses to her previous questions.

“No. Only that every practice, game, and new location presents obstacles and challenges. I knew that us being together would be hard. . .I mean the logistics. Not actually being in a relationship with him.” I rushed to clarify.

“Mmhmm. I gathered you meant that.” Her calm, melodic voice reassured me.

“It’s just. . .difficult being in a relationship but pretending to not be in a relationship all the while trying to reassure each other that while we act that way in public we very much do want to be together. . .See? It’s confusing. Last week was hard enough and it was a home game. This week is an away game and I just got an email reminder about my hotel confirmation. . .”

“. . .And it’s at a completely different hotel than his.” She finished my thought and I nodded before I remembered that she wasn’t in the room.

“Yup.”

I’d racked my brain all afternoon about what to do, getting my hopes up with a possible solution and then having them crash down when the reality of why it wouldn’t work set in. I had little expectation at that point of finding a quick, viable solution, even though Paisley and I could usually find one when we put our heads together. That’s why I found her near instant response so surprising.

“What if. . .You could convince the Times that you don’t need a hotel room. Tell them that you’re staying with other people. Like for the upcoming game. . .It’s in Starlight Shores, right?” I told her she was correct and she continued. “Tiff doesn’t live that far from there. It would be an easy drive. . .”

“And I could tell Roger that I don’t need a hotel room because I’m staying with her. You’re a genius!” I imagined her standing in front of me, squeezing her until my arms hurt; that, or until she cried “uncle.” “I can just tell them I’m choosing to stay with family and friends. . .” It solved all my problems, except for what to do the next season. “But what about next year. I can’t pretend to stay at someone’s place at every away game.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Get through the rest of this season and figure out the rest later.” It floored me that her first suggestion, that required very little thought on her part, was the perfect solution to my problem. And it was the easiness of her thinking of it that sent up red flags, just like with Ryan’s expert knowledge of keeping a relationship secret. But before I could ask her about it, she deftly changed the subject.

It gnawed at Trev and me, but I knew there was no hope in convincing either of them to reveal their source of mastery on the subject, at least not until either of them were ready. So Trev and I kept our questions and suspicions to ourselves. Adhering to their continued advice and instructions all while feigning ignorance.

To our surprise, our planning and preparation for different scenarios paid off, and the first away game with us sleeping in the same room went off without a hitch. Now facing our second away game, we felt a little less stressed and if I was honest, some of it seemed fun. It’d started to be a game with us; how many different ways could we let each other know that we were thinking about or acknowledging each other while keeping everyone else in the dark. 

And it was one reason that he started to keep track of how many times I would roll my eyes during press conferences: being one way that I could let him know that I understood an underlying message in a response he gave and of course, let him know that I got some entertainment out of something he said.

“If you don’t get out soon, I’ll be forced to join you.” The sound of his deep, teasing voice from behind reminded me that I was standing in the steaming shower and had lost track of time. 

We both had planes to catch and our kitchen conversation and my dawdling meant that we needed to hurry. But when I turned around and saw him standing completely naked on the other side of the glass, eyes dark and twinkling, every muscle flexed, eagerly waiting and ready for any hint that he should continue forward, I stopped caring about the time and opened the glass door for him to join me.

****Trev****

Five times. She rolled her eyes five times during the press conference and the pride I felt was enough to take away some of the sting that losing a game always left. But like a pissed off bee, the frustration of defeat buzzed around me, hoping to find a weak spot to stick its stinger in and make me forget about her eye rolls. It was frustratingly successful.

We lost for one reason and one reason only. We were outplayed. For some reason the normal team cohesion felt off and plays that should’ve been executed easily, came hard for us. I could obsess for hours about why it happened and wished that I could get my hands on a recording of the game. It wasn’t impossible. I could find one online if I really wanted to. But I doubted Pam would want to sit down with me right after seeing the game herself and spend the next couple hours reviewing it. Instead, I tried to think about other, more enjoyable activities we could do in the hotel room together. . .

The cab that Ryan and I shared pulled up to the front of the hotel, interrupting my thoughts on hotel room activities, and we quickly jumped out to enter the lobby. “I won’t keep you.” He said after we walked inside and I could see all the words he wasn’t saying in his smile and nodded.

“Thanks.” I joked and motioned towards the coffee place on the other side of the lobby. “I’m just going to grab something. Thanks for grabbing dinner with me.”

He chuckled at the absurdity of my comment and shook his head. “If you can call dinner a bite of hamburger and two fries. . .” He smirked and waved as he turned around. “Night.” He called back over his shoulder.

“Night.” I watched him walk away for a second and then made my way over to the coffee place. I was personally more of a sweet tea kind of guy, only drinking coffee in the mornings, but Pam loved iced coffee. So much so, she drank it during all hours of the day, something I learned the night of the first home game. 

We returned separately to her apartment, her heading back right after the press conference to type the article she needed to submit and me continuing to meet Stan for pie and coffee. When I entered her apartment, I was surprised to see her changed, still typing, and a glass of iced coffee sitting less than a foot away on her desk.

At first I wondered about her sleeping after drinking sometimes two at night since they were fully loaded, but she always proved me wrong and often times fell asleep before me. By the third game, I decided that if it was something that she enjoyed so much, the least I could do was get her one. And if it got me some brownie points in the process, I was all for it.

For some reason there was a line, even though it was past nine o’clock, and I spent the first part of my wait hoping that her getting back into the room had gone as smoothly as when we each first arrived. As far as any of the hotel staff knew, she was Ms. Amanda Randall. I laughed  to myself, remembering some of the names that we thought of before setting on that particular one and it caused the couple in front of me to turn around.

After signing an autograph, I continued to entertain myself by running through some of the names. Lori Jones. She hated Lori and we eventually decided that anything with Jones or Smith was asking for someone to investigate a person’s identity. Juanita Chiquita.  That was my half ass attempt to get her to laugh. It didn’t work as well as I thought. Then from somewhere out of the blue, came my grandmother’s name, Amanda. And just for shits and giggles, I offered my aunts’ maiden name. Pam liked it and we both agreed that it sounded like a real name.

While the name she used was one of many things we stressed over, one of the few things we didn’t was my hotel room. Along with agreeing to a pay cut during preseason negotiations, I also offered to pay for my hotel rooms. My motivation at the time was to provide another enticement for the team to keep me, but I soon realized that I benefited from my offer as well, since it allowed me to book hotel suites that often times had pianos.  Suites that were located away from prying eyes and offered Pam and I the privacy that we wanted.

When I finally walked through the door, I expected to see her sitting at the desk, her laptop open and a half drunk iced coffee next to her, like I had every other week. But the only evidence of her even using the desk was her closed laptop. My eyes darted around the living area, searching for any other signs of her being there and that’s when I noticed the big pitcher of iced tea, a bucket of ice, and a lone glass sitting on the dining table.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.” The sound of her voice made me jump a little since I didn’t see or hear her walk out of the bedroom, being too fixated on the iced tea to notice. I quickly forgot about it though and my eyes darted towards the door to take in the sight of her standing there.

She’d changed into an older sweatshirt. She had several but the one she was wearing was my favorite. It was loose fitting and had a tendency to fall off of her shoulder, like it did then, showing off enough of her smooth skin that all I could think about doing was completely removing it and exposing more. Her yoga pants perfectly showcased every muscle and curve in her legs, hips and ass and I silently thanked God every time she wore them. Watching her like a hungry hawk any time she walked around in them.

The first time I saw her like that, completely casual, comfortable, with her hair pulled back to keep it out of her face, she tried to argue with me when I told her how amazing she looked. But none of her arguing could change the fact that seeing her that way, natural and relaxed, made her just as desirable to me as if she was wearing a revealing piece of lingerie. 

Seeming to read my thoughts, she gave me a flirtatious smile that lasted all of about three seconds, until her eyes wandered down to the cup of iced coffee. “Did you get me another iced coffee?” Her eyes lit up and it felt like happiness spread through my whole body.

I nodded and was sure a goofy grin appeared on my face when she rushed over and took the cup out of my hand.  She planted a quick kiss on my lips, thanked me, and then grabbed my hand, leading me over to the dining table.

“I saw that when I came in.” I acknowledged as she motioned to the tea. “Thank you.” Seeing her shake her head confused me and the knock on the door added to it.

“There’s something else.” She admitted and motioned for me to go to the door. Being more than a little curious, I quickly strode towards it and after making sure that she was once again behind the bedroom door, I opened the hallway one to see a hotel employee standing behind a cart with multiple Chinese food boxes sitting on it.

“You ordered food, Mr. Davila?” He asked with a hospitable smile and I nodded.

“Apparently I did.” If he was confused by my answer, he didn’t give any indication and after I stepped to the side, he speedily wheeled the cart into the room and began to unload the contents of it on to the dining table. “That’s okay.” I motioned for him to stop by holding my hand up. “I can do that.” Knowing that Pam was waiting behind the bedroom door for him to leave, I gave him a tip that he showed his appreciation for by smiling from ear to ear, and I thanked him as he walked quickly back into the hallway.

She mischievously smiled as she reentered the room and I stood in the entryway disbelievingly staring at her and then the food. “You ordered sweet tea and Chinese food?” Her mischievous smile was replaced with a guilty one as she placed her iced coffee down on the table and joined me. “Thank you. . .but why?”

The look she gave me, where she raised an eyebrow and a small trace of a smirk could be seen on her pursed lips, was one that I learned during the previous weeks to be her “I’ve done something for a good reason, I know it, and you’re about to know it” look. “Because the last away game you went out to dinner with Ryan, like you always do.” I nodded to show my agreement and to encourage her to continue. “I went back to the hotel room and wrote my article, like I always do.” I nodded again. “And then I listened to your stomach growl the whole night because for whatever reason, you didn’t eat when you were out with Ryan.” She teased me and I smirked as I shook my head at her.

“It didn’t growl the whole night.” I tried to argue with her but she didn’t buy it.

“How would you know? You slept through it.” We both chuckled at the truth of her statement and I nodded. “So I ordered some Chinese and tea, just in case you didn’t eat while you were out with Ryan.”

“Which I didn’t.” I admitted and she disapprovingly shook her head at me.

“Why?”

I hesitated to tell her the reason, afraid that she’d think it was dumb but then realized that she probably already thought I was since I refused to eat in the first place. “Because eating takes time away.”

Her face scrunched up as she tried to interpret what I meant, making her freckles bunch together. They taunted and tempted me to kiss them in their new configuration, but her shrugging shoulders and shaking head drew my attention away. “Takes time from what?”

“Well. . .” I made a slight motion towards her with my hands but she still looked confused. “. . .from you.” I finally spit it out and a bewildered smile spread across her lips.

“You rush through dinner so you can see me?” Her smile got even bigger, making her face light up when I gave her a sheepish smile and nodded.

“Well. . .yeah.” Within a millisecond of me saying the last word, her smiling lips covered mine and while I enjoyed kissing her, it also tickled me that she was happy that because I wanted to see her so much, I skipped meals that made my stomach complain and kept her up all night.

“So. . .you’re happy that I don’t eat dinner?” I couldn’t help but tease her when we stopped kissing.

“No.” She tried to hide her revealing smirk by turning to look at the cart. “If I was happy that you didn’t eat then I wouldn’t have found a way to order Chinese food.”

The fact that she ordered food, especially that it was Chinese, floored me and as we walked hand in hand over to the cart, I once again let her know how much I appreciated it. “Thank you.” I whispered, wholeheartedly meaning it.

“You’re welcome.” She whispered back and thoughts of eating were momentarily forgotten as I stared back into her twinkling, green eyes. Eyes that noticed everything and made her so incredibly perceptive.  

Not able to resist kissing her, I gave in and got lost in her soft, responsive lips with my only thoughts being of picking her up and walking towards the bedroom; showing her just how irresistible she was to me. But sensing that our kiss was taking a turn, she slowly pulled her lips away and nodded towards the food. I reluctantly nodded my agreement and we sat down at the table.

We opted to eat out of the boxes and reminisced about our first night sharing Chinese together, the press conference and how I got her to roll her eyes five times, and our continuing suspicions about who Ryan and Paisley were dating and why they hadn’t told us. And as we sat drinking sweet tea and iced coffee, feeling content at how full our stomachs felt from consuming way too much Chinese food, I got too curious about another suspicion I had.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” She lowered the straw from her lips and tried to convince me of her confusion by shrugging her shoulders.

“Did what on purpose?”

“Ordered Chinese food.”

She looked at me like I should know better and smirked. “I told you I did.”

“But there’s another reason besides you thinking that I didn’t eat. . .” I hinted and her eyes guiltily tore away from mine. “It’s because we lost the game, isn’t it.”

Her head swung back and she studied me for a moment before nodding. “Yes. Although I was worried that you hadn’t eaten.” A small smile appeared and quickly disappeared before she continued. “I thought we should have a ritual.”

“A ritual?” I thought out loud and she nodded.

“Whenever we lost a game, Paisley and I had this ritual where we would go to the grocery store and buy two gallons of ice cream; one for her and one for me. Then we’d go back to my house, eat until we thought we’d get sick, and unload our frustrations about the game.”

I nodded “Mine’s changed over the years. . .” I hinted, not really wanting to get into what I did before “. . .I haven’t really found a new one.”

“What did you do after the first loss?” Her anticipation of hearing my answer made her sit up a little more.

“I. . .” I mischievously smiled from the first thing I did. “. . .I met a tall, blonde. . .” I took a long moment to look her over. “. . .gorgeous. . .” She rolled her eyes and blushed. “. . .woman in a parking garage. And talking with her helped me to feel better.” She smiled and nodded for me to continue. “I met Stan for a slice of pie since it was a home game and then went back to my place, drank way too much sweet tea, played the piano, and talked to Willie.”

“You didn’t talk to anyone about the game? Didn’t replay the game in your mind, wondering what you and the team could’ve done differently?”

“Talk to anyone? No. Replay the game in my mind?. . .I did that while drinking tea and playing the piano.”

“You didn’t talk to Will about it?”

“No. My family’s supportive of what I do, but their knowledge of positions, plays, or any other technical aspects of football is limited, and when I start “going on” about it, they blankly stare at me and nod.” She chuckled at my impression of their blank expressions and nodding and I continued. 

“Dad was the only one that I could sit down and talk to for hours about stuff like that.” My lips curved into a sad, reminiscent smile as I thought of moments when Dad and I sat in the family room and “talked ball.” Where we would talk about why a certain play was called, or how certain players always seemed to be able to read the plays of another team, or I’d vent my frustrations over a loss.

A warm hand resting on mine eventually encouraged me to leave my memories and turn to see eyes full of compassion, and hopefulness in her smile. “You can talk to me. . .” She whispered, her eyes immediately giving away that she second guessed her offer. “. . .If you want to.”  

“I. . .” I honestly didn’t know what to say. The truth was that I wanted to talk to her about it. She knew as much and possibly more about the mechanics of the game as I did. But more than that, I wanted to talk to her just because I could. For the first time since Dad passed away, there was someone in my life that I cared about who cared just as much as I did about football. But I also didn’t want to overload her with my thoughts and feelings about the game or for her to think that I was using her for her knowledge. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you. . .” I hinted.

Her lips curled into a knowing smile and seeing it baffled me. “There’s a story that Mom and Dad like to tell. It’s one of those stories that gets told at family reunions because aunt so-and-so hasn’t heard the story, or told when old friends get together and everyone wants to take a stroll down memory lane. . .” My worry melted away as I listened to her start a story and I smiled as a certain sock story of mine came to mind. 

“At the beginning of summer, before their junior year at ASU, Dad somehow convinced Mom to go on a date with him. And that led to more dates. Dad will tell you he doesn’t know how he convinced her to more, but he did, so by the time that the first game came around, they’d been dating close to three months.” I tried to envision Coach and Mrs. H. college-aged and dating and for some reason the image made me chuckle.

“Everything was fine until the third game when they had their first loss. Up until that point, they had a ritual where after the game they would go out and happily talk about it over a slice of apple pie and a cup of coffee. At this point in the story they always allude to more happening afterwards, but like all children, I don’t want to know those things about my parents.” I let out a roaring laugh that made her cheeks pink and smile from ear to ear.

“But that’s not what happened after the first loss. They went out for pie and coffee but there was no discussion about the game. Mom wanted to talk, but she could tell that for a reason that was unknown to her, he didn’t. So they ate their pie in silence and instead of Dad stopping at his normal one slice, he ordered another, and another. By the time he ordered a fourth one, the server brought him the remainder of the pie and a whole can of whip cream.”

“He’ll tell you that he sprayed half the can of cream on the pie, and Mom will tell you that it was the whole can, but which ever it was, he sprayed a crap load of cream on the pie and then ate the whole thing. He was about to order another slice. . .”

“No. There’s no way.” I interrupted her, smiling and shaking my head at the absurdity of him eating so much pie.

“It’s true! You can ask Mom and him. They both tell the same story, except about how much whip cream he used.” I laughed again and she continued. “So he was about to order another slice when Mom finally spoke up. “Are you ever going to talk to me, or are you going to sit here the whole night drowning your sorrows in every pie on campus.”” She imitated her mom perfectly and my laughter once again echoed through the room.

“Her question frustrated him because he wanted to talk to her the whole time, but he figured that the last thing she wanted to do was listen to him go on and on about the game, especially since they’d just started dating.” The truth of her story hit me right between the eyes and her knowing smile when she started the story made complete sense at that point.  “When he told her that, she replied that “listening to you would be infinitely more enjoyable than watching you eat pie in silence.”” Picking up on what she was trying to tell me, I nodded and looked up from a spot on the floor that I’d been staring at.

“Is that where they end the story?”

She smiled at my interest in wanting her to continue. “It has a coda.” I nodded, encouraging her to finish. “To this day, when ASU loses a game they each grab a cup of coffee, a whole pie and a whole can of whip cream, and they sit together for hours, eating pie, drinking coffee, and talking about the game.”

“Because it’s their ritual.” I added, realizing what she meant from her suggestion that we have one. It was her way of letting me know that it was okay to talk with her about the game. But even more than that, she wanted to share a ritual with me, just like her parents back when they started dating and the possibilities of what it meant made a tornado of feelings whirl around inside me.

All the things that I could talk about swirled around in my head and I began to doubt that I was ever going to be able to settle on one to start with. But I was determined to not let the hopeful expression that I saw while she waited, turn into disappointment. Finally settling on something, I sighed, and once again looked at her. “Their defensive end. . .” I started and the huge smile that lit up her face caused the tornado inside me to whirl even faster.

Three hours passed like three minutes as both of us voiced our observations about the other team’s defense, my suspicions that movements from our offensive line somehow tipped the other team off about our plays, and how we both noticed that something felt off about our team’s cohesion.  And we would’ve continued for who knows how much longer, but the pitcher running dry from me drinking all the tea served as a reminder that we’d been sitting there long enough for me to drink it, and I shook my head at the realization.

“I should’ve shut up hours ago.” I admitted and hung my head a little from keeping her sitting there, listening to me for so long.

“You weren’t the only one talking. . .” Even though what she said was true, I still couldn’t forgive myself for holding her hostage with my ramblings. “But. . .” Hearing her whispered “but” made my head jerk up with worry that slowly melted away when I saw the tenderness in her eyes as she continued. “. . .I would gladly listen for another three hours, or through another pitcher of tea.”

Her words hit me deep, in a place where I hadn’t felt them before, and I couldn’t breathe. Not since my family room conversations with Dad had anyone sat and listened to me analyze, critique, and complain about a game. And I never thought that there would be anyone else in my life that would. Nor did I ever imagine that there would ever be a time when anyone would want to share nightly dinners with me. The idea of coming home and someone being there, sharing the mundane, every day events over dinner had been just that; an idea, or more accurately, a dream. 

But because of her, because of her willingness to give me a second chance, look past my many faults and all the crazy shit I did, I didn’t have to wonder or imagine what it was like to have someone in my life who would to listen to me go on and on about things that most people didn’t give a damn about. And I didn’t have to imagine anymore what it was like to have someone care enough about me that they would order Chinese food and a pitcher of tea because they thought that it would help me feel better.

“Should we order more tea?” To anyone else, her whispered question would have sounded like a simple one, but knowing her and how well she knew me, I could hear the unspoken ones. The ones that she hesitated to ask, unsure if I wanted to answer them, but still hinted at so I’d know that she hoped I would. 

She was a master at it; asking questions, hinting, and finding a way to get me to open up to her but not in the usual pushy way that others did. And sometimes I didn’t recognize it, like her knowing smile before she told me the story about her parents, but with her question about ordering more tea I recognized the attempt and I heard what was unspoken. “Do you want to talk more?” “Have I said something wrong, something that’s made you uncomfortable?” “Is this where our ritual should end or is there more?”

And just like her question, my simple response of “No.” answered more than the one question. “No,” she hadn’t said anything wrong and the last thing I felt around her was uncomfortable. “No,” that wasn’t where I wanted to end things and “No,” I didn’t want to talk anymore. But I was far from done letting her know what my thoughts were.

I had every intention of standing up, offering her my hand and leading her back into the bedroom to show her my thoughts, but when I helped her stand up and stared into her eyes, the feelings from moments before returned. All that she did for me, knowing how unworthy I was to have her and that she chose to stay with me anyway, it all made my thought about not talking anymore become a lie and I whispered two words to her. “Thank you.”

Her bright smile gave me hope that she understood what all I was trying to say, but I didn’t know for sure and I tried to let her know all that I meant when my lips met hers. The first, soft kiss being the “Thank you for listening to me.” The slightly deeper, longer kiss saying “Thank you for being with me.” The more passionate kiss meaning “Thank you for accepting me for me.” And the breathtaking kiss revealing the three other words that I felt in my heart but was too chicken shit to say.

She broke away suddenly and the way her eyes searched mine made me wonder if she somehow understood what my heart tried to tell her. Before I could decide though, her soft lips returned to mine and the desire to let her know how irresistible I thought she was returned, becoming too overpowering to ignore any longer.

The action of me swooping her into my arms wasn’t anything new and she usually joked about how she was more than capable of walking. That wasn’t why I did it, though. I liked the way she fit into my arms; enjoyed how it felt to completely hold her in them, so I took advantage of any chance I got to do it. There wasn’t any joking from her at that moment as I carried her towards the bedroom, I figured either from her sensing that it wasn’t the right moment or our mouths being too occupied.

Opening the door was a challenge. I had to readjust her weight to my chest so my hand could grab the knob and she let out a cute giggle as her arms clung even more around my neck. “You think it’s easy carrying someone while trying to open a door?” I grinned as I challenged her and felt a small sense of satisfaction from hearing her laugh fill both rooms.

“You could put me down. . .” She finally teased me about carrying her and tilted her head up to smirk at me. I responded by holding her even tighter and firmly slamming the door behind me with my foot, smiling at my triumph from accomplishing it and at feeling her chuckle vibrate in my ear.

I had a very clear picture in my mind of what would happen next. I’d carry her over to the bed, lay her down on it, and take my time taking her clothes off and showing her how I felt. So when she started to crane her neck to see the bed behind her and then whispered “Wait,” I didn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t part of my game plan to stop dead in my tracks before reaching the bed or to release her from my arms.

Before I could ask her what was wrong, she gently placed her hand on my cheek and reassuringly rubbed her thumb over it while gazing up into my eyes. Even in the darkened room I could see a warmth burning in them that I couldn’t remember ever seeing, and the newness of it made my heart beat hard enough that I was sure she could see it through my shirt. And with each beat, a familiar but more intense yearning swelled inside me.

A second before I could raise my hand to pull her closer though, she stepped towards me, leaving no space for the bright moonlight to shine between us. Feeling her lips meet mine and her body pressed completely against me transformed my yearning into a need and I slowly tried to guide her feet backwards, moving us closer to the bed. She firmly placed one of her hands on my chest to stop me and I again wondered if something was wrong, if I was somehow misreading what she wanted.

She continued to kiss me though, and I decided that for whatever reason, what I had in mind before wasn’t what she wanted and I yielded, giving into her. That’s when her touches changed. Her fingers ran through my hair, something she knew I enjoyed. Her tongue started to tease mine, beckoning me to lose myself even more and making a groan escape that made her lips smile against mine. It also made the desire to start removing both of our clothes too great to ignore any longer, but she was one step ahead of me.

Her hands reached for my shirt and slowly pulled it up over my shoulders, slow enough that I wondered if it would stay covering my head. When she finally lifted it and I was able to see her again, I realized why it had taken so long. Her eyes stayed focused on my chest, and as soon as her hands were free of my shirt, she began to slowly rub them along every part, like she was admiring it. I self-consciously puffed it out a little and a small smile appeared on her lips as she peaked up at me and stood on her tiptoes until I could feel her breath against my ear.

“It’s already tempting enough.” The seductive, warm whisper knocked the breath out of me and at the same time made me realize just how much I wanted her to be impressed with what she saw, how much I wanted her to approve of it. And as her hands continued to move along and her eyes returned to my chest, her reassurance allowed me to do something that I normally wouldn’t have been able to do in such a quiet, open moment. It allowed my attention to center less on my thoughts and more on what I felt.

It was soothing, comforting, electrifying, tempting, overwhelming, invigorating, and amazing.

It also made me want to take all her clothes off. When she once again moved to do what I intended to, I tried to keep myself from reaching out to her and watched her enticingly remove her own shirt and bra. I succeeded until I saw the moonlight illuminate her skin, shining a glow on it that begged me to touch her.

The playful look she gave me when she noticed that my thin thread of self-control was about to unravel made my eyes plead with her to let me touch her. Her smirk melted into a soft smile that let me know that I could and I sucked in a shaky breath as I finally placed my hands on her stomach. They followed the same movements she made on mine, slowly roaming over every inch, and I became mesmerized as I admired how the hardness of her muscles and her smooth skin and curves made her feel both strong and soft at the same time.

I remained captivated as my hands inched up her chest and caressed each of her breasts, remaining in my trance until her gasp broke it and I glanced up. Her head was slightly tilted backwards and eyes closed, completely lost in the pleasure she felt and giving me a view of her long neck. It called out to me, convincing me that my hands touching her wasn’t enough. I listened; leaning down to kiss the spot on her neck that I knew drove her crazy and felt her groan vibrate in my ear as her control seemed to slip further away. But it only lasted a moment before she again took a step back and her hands were unbuckling and pulling my pants down.

She didn’t allow me to help her with removing mine, and I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I watched her slowly and seductively remove hers. My imagination went wild with ideas of what she would do when we were both naked and it made the craving to touch her seem impossible to fight off. I felt my hopes of touching her rise when she stepped towards me and not being able to stop myself, I grabbed and kissed her, once again tasting the traces of sweetness from her coffee and saltiness from the soy sauce.

While I enjoyed the taste of our kisses, her hands encouraged me to turn around until my back was to the bed and gently pushed me backward until I felt the step up leading to it. Not wanting my ass to fall anywhere but the bed, I reached back to feel the edge of it and pulled her body down with mine, both of us chuckling as she fell on top of me.

Her surprised smile quickly disappeared as her lips moved towards mine but she wasn’t satisfied with kissing my lips for very long. Soon her kisses traveled down my chin and throat, briefly stopping on the spot right below my ear that she knew was one of my weaknesses. The touch of her tongue there triggered a shock to every nerve in my body, something that I wasn’t prepared to feel and I squirmed, fighting the pleasure it produced while also enjoying every moment of it.

Partial relief came when her kisses mercifully continued their teasing journey down my neck, but the relief quickly turned to anticipation when her lips began to caress my shoulders, my chest and then my stomach.  The misery of not knowing if she would stop there or continue her downward descent was too much to bear. Like a cat, my curiosity got the better of me and I had to lift my head up to peak down at her.

She paused when she sensed me watching her, and I stopped breathing when her darkened, desire filled eyes met mine, leaving me with little doubt about her continuing the slow, torturous journey downward and my heart beats slowed, syncing with each descending kiss and lick.

 

A satisfying groan echoed in my ears and the room when her lips and tongue gently touched me and within seconds I was almost completely helpless. But there was still a part of me, a small sliver that fought to keep myself from totally losing all control. It was something that I’d done for so long, always keeping a part of me locked away, afraid of letting anyone have that much power over me, that I didn’t even know I was doing it. . .until she suddenly stopped.

She slowly climbed back up, stopping when her lips were inches from mine, making sure that my eyes were completely focused on hers. The tenderness I saw in them was enough to leave me breathless, but it paled to what I felt from the words she whispered against my lips. “Trust me, Trev.”  Her fingers brushed my hair away from my face as she lovingly smiled down at me.  “Trust me and let go.”

Every nerve, muscle and organ in my body short circuited, sending confusing signals to every part of my body. I went numb but somehow parts continued to burn and tingle. My heart stopped beating but felt like it could burst out of my chest at any moment. My eyes saw her beautiful face, but up until that moment, hadn’t really seen her or how well she really knew me. It scared me a little, but also comforted me, that she could sense those things about me; when I needed to talk, needed encouragement, or that extra push to do something that would’ve been impossible for me with anyone else.

Her lips slowly retraced their downward path and as they threatened to repeat their previous actions, I closed my eyes and wondered what it would feel like to completely surrender. When I got to the point that I did before, of being completely helpless and at her mercy, I finally did with her what I hadn’t been able to do with anyone else. I completely let go. It was exhilarating and more freeing than I could’ve ever imagine and as I laid there moments later, feeling like I was flying and trying to catch my breath, I wished that I’d let it happen with her sooner.

My descent back to reality was slow. I didn’t realize that she’d crawled back up and laid on top of me until I felt my arm wrap around her waist. Feeling her soft skin pressing on mine slightly lured me away from the clouds, prompting me to open my eyes and I tried to focus on her beautiful face. Everything was still too hazy though. It was her caresses and kisses that helped to bring me totally back to her and when my other arm wrapped around her, she pulled her head back to look into my eyes, seeming to sense that I’d returned.  

Staring back into her eyes, I tried to put into words what I felt, but choked on them, making a loving smile spread across her lips. “Sleep.” She whispered as her hand reached up and again smoothed hair away from my face. It left me shocked and speechless, and as she rested her head on my chest my head tried to jump start my body, yelling at me to snap out of it so I could say something to her. Within seconds, her breathing slowed and deepened, signaling that she once again beat me to sleep, and I swore at myself for being too slow.

Forced to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself, I laid awake, blown away by the amazing woman lying on me and all that happened. In the four short weeks that we’d been together, I’d learned so much. Sometimes about her, sometimes about myself, and often they were things that I didn’t see coming or had trouble recognizing. But there was one thing that hadn’t been hard to recognize and that was how my feelings for her grew every day. And that night I came close to telling her what I’d known for a while. That I loved her.

But the moment had passed, like all the other ones, and the worry about her feeling the same made the fear creep back in, making me too chicken shit to tell her what I felt. At least while she was awake. The sound of her steady breathing let me know that she was still asleep and when she didn’t move after my arms pulled her soft, sweet smelling body closer to mine, I whispered in her hair what I hoped she already knew. “I love you.”