Page 58 of Elite Player
And it might be my new favorite sight.
When Nico showed up at my door last night, something came over me. A sense of familiarity. Almost like déjà vu.
Like maybe I’d experienced this—him—in another lifetime, and we were finally together again in this one.
I’m not sure how else to explain it.
To understand how he makes me feel safe and seen and like I’ve found something I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for.
Serendipity.
Which, of course, is ridiculous.
I’ve been starved for love and attention for so long that I’ve fallen head over heels for a man who doesn’t know how to love. Not really, I don’t think. Or maybe he loves everyone and everything.
It’s impossible to know what’s actually real with him when he’s so charming all the time. When he’s nothing but smiles andjokes and has a history with women hanging off his arm at every new opportunity.
Then again, it’s impossible for me not to fall for him when he sends me flowers and breakfast every morning. When he texts me simply to check in. When he stares down at me as if he loves looking at me, kisses me with soft sighs like he really does enjoy it, when he pleads with me while he orgasms as if he’s that gone for me.
Me.
Bucky Beaver.
Josephine Atkins.
Once we untangled ourselves from our overzealous greeting last night, he stripped down to his underwear and used my face wash and toothbrush before slipping back into my bed, waiting patiently for me to do the same. It was cramped, and he had to be uncomfortable, contorting his big body on the double bed, but he didn’t say anything about it. Merely wrapped his arm around me and conked out.
Now, I nudge him a few times until he rouses with fluttering eyelids and rolls to his back, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth. Then he blinks over at me, his blue eyes as bright as the morning sky outside, and smiles. “Morning.”
Suddenly self-conscious of morning breath and what I look like, I scurry off to the bathroom.
“Ah, come on, Jo. No morning cuddles?” I hear through the door.
“No. I have to get to the rink.”
“For what?”
“I’m taking pictures.”
“Of what?”
“The thing today. Skate Away,” I say after flushing, washing my hands, and opening the door.
“Oh shit.” He hops out of bed and checks the time. “I totally forgot that was today. I’m supposed to be there in forty-five minutes.Fuck.”
While I brush my teeth, he spins in a circle, arms up as if he doesn’t know what to do first, before pivoting to me. “I wanted to take you out for brunch. Damn it.” He sulks for a few moments then claps his hands. “No, okay. I’m gonna run out to my car to get my bag so I can change, and then I’ll drive you over there and take you out to eat after. Sound good?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, only shoves his legs into his pants and throws on a shirt he helps himself to from one of my drawers. It’s a YUNGBLUD tee that fits him like a crop top. Without a glance back at me, he runs out of the apartment. I laugh to myself as I watch him out the window, sprinting down the street a few blocks, only to return a minute later with a duffel bag slung across his shoulder.
Somebody catcalls him, and he waves in their direction before disappearing out of sight, into the building. Quick footfalls sound, and then he’s back, breathing heavy. “We’ve got to leave in, like, fifteen, Jojo. Better hurry up.”
“You should’ve gone home last night,” I say after I spit and rinse. By the time I face him, he has clothes from his bag strewn all over my bed, his brows drawn down.
“And make me miss this morning routine with you? Nah.”
“This isnotmy morning routine.”
He smells one of his T-shirts before deciding it’s okay and takes off mine to put his on. “What is your morning routine?”
