Chapter no 17

Fangirl Down

Wells replaced the squat bar in its cradle with a clang and turned to face

the empty twenty-four-hour resort fitness center. Country music filtered into the air-conditioned space from an invisible speaker, a halogen light buzzing overhead. It was four oโ€™clock in the morning and he really needed to be sleeping, but after three hours of dozing in front of the television, heโ€™d woken up wired and knew there was no way heโ€™d go back to bed.

Heโ€™d had two options.

Burn off some energy at the gym. Or go knock on Josephineโ€™s door and demand to know again if things were going to be weird between them now that theyโ€™d hooked up. Although โ€œhooked upโ€ sounded incredibly insufficient, considering heโ€™d forgotten his room number, date of birth, and the current sitting president afterward. Waiting until a socially acceptable hour to make sure their relationship hadnโ€™t been compromised was making him restless.

He wanted to get it straightened out before their round got underway in

the morning and they wouldnโ€™t have a chance to speak off camera until late afternoon.

Without some reassurance, his concentration would be fucked.

To be fair, it was going to be capital-F Fucked no matter what, because of Josephine raking her fingernails down his chest and challenging him to finish under par, so he could come inside her.

Wells groaned out loud, splintering the silence of the fitness center. Yeah, safe to say their dynamic had changed a lot since yesterdayโ€”

And that scared the living shit out of him. If anything, heโ€™d assumed heโ€™d screw up on the golf course and send her packing. This? Was an entirely

different ball game. He didnโ€™t have, didnโ€™t do, didnโ€™t understand relationships.

At all.

Way to dive right into the deep end with your caddie, man.

For the first time in his entire life, Wells kind of wished he could run this whole situation by another dude. He could try and call Burgess, but as far as Wells could tell, the ill-tempered hockey player was more emotionally stunted than Wells. Also, Burgess would almost certainly hang up on him, so yeah. No calls would be made today.

Buck was out, in terms of fatherly advice.

His own parents were God only knew where. Somewhere in Florida, last heโ€™d heard.

Surprisingly, Josephineโ€™s father came to mind. If only Wells didnโ€™t need advice about the manโ€™s actual daughter, that might be an option.

Guess heโ€™d have to figure this out as it came. Going it alone was nothing new for him.

Heโ€™d just never been in a romantic dilemma before. And nothing had ever seemed to count this much.

This woman . . . she counted. Big-time. His gut wasnโ€™t in fucking knots over nothing.

Wells paced across the hardwood floor in the direction of the water cooler, but he drew up short when something outside the glass double- doored entrance moved, out of the corner of his eye. The resort pool was right outside the gym, glowing like a green jewel in the darkness, and a silhouette he knew very well stood peering through the gate.

Josephine?

He walked straight into the glass door.

The smack of his knee and forehead colliding with the glass, followed by a loud reverberation, made Josephine whip around, startled, then finally

deflate with relief when she saw him. โ€œDid you just walk into the door?โ€ came her muffled question from outside.

โ€œNo. I knocked on it.โ€ Hastily, he exited, letting the door swing shut behind him, cutting off an elevator-music version of โ€œOld Town Road.โ€ โ€œTo get your attention.โ€

A twinkle danced in her eye. โ€œRight . . .โ€

Just like he hadnโ€™t put his hoodie on backward after theyโ€™d nearly gotten busy on the couch. His entire equilibrium was off, thanks to her. Even his

depth perception felt skewed as he approached her in the early morning fog. โ€œI really wish you wouldnโ€™t go out alone at odd hours like this, belle.โ€

She gave him a once-over, taking in his gym shorts and sweaty T-shirt. โ€œYouโ€™re out at odd hours.โ€

โ€œYes, but Iโ€™m big and mean. Youโ€™re short and sweet.โ€ Ignoring her pursed lips, he eyed the emerald pool lying beyond her shoulder. โ€œWere you planning on going for a swim?โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t bring a bathing suit with me, so I was just going to stick my feet in.โ€ She reached out and rattled the gate leading into the pool area. โ€œItโ€™s closed. I had a hunch it would be, but I figured Iโ€™d take the walk, anyway.โ€

โ€œMmmm.โ€ Wells slipped the room key out of his pocket and approached the locked gate, taking a moment to study the mechanism. He lifted the

handle slightly, then slid his card down between the slot and the metal tab, popping it open. โ€œ โ€˜Closedโ€™ is a subjective term.โ€

Josephine blinked. โ€œHotel security might feel differently.โ€

โ€œAt this time of the morning, itโ€™s one guy in a golf cart and heโ€™s probably sleeping.โ€ He tucked his tongue into the inside of his cheek. โ€œDo you want to get wet or not?โ€

โ€œWow.โ€ She pushed his shoulder. โ€œReal nice.โ€ โ€œI was talking to your feet.โ€

Lips twitching with mirth, she walked past Wells through the gate he held open, circling to a shadowed section of the pool and sitting down on the

concrete edge. Wells watched her as he approached, enjoying the way she pulled her knees up to her chest, slipping off her sandals and setting them side by side. So neatly. She rolled her pajama pants up to her knees and tested the water with her big toe, before dropping both of them beneath the surface, sighing and tipping her head back, eyes drifting shut.

โ€œAre you going to join me?โ€ she asked.

Was that a real question? Heโ€™d only gone to the fitness center in the first place to prevent himself from waking her up too early. Just so he could be around her. And find out how she felt about last night. Right now, she was giving away absolutely nothing.

Watching her closely for signs of regret, Wells toed off his sneakers and peeled off his socks, tossing them into a heap in the middle of the walkway.

He joined her on the ledge and sank his feet into the cool water. Taking

advantage of the fact that her eyes were still closed, her head tipped back, he ran his attention down the front of her throat and literally felt his pupils

expand. Did he have the freedom to lean over and sample that skin with his tongue or were they still figuring out when, where, and how it was okay to touch?

โ€œI was going to come knock on your door,โ€ Wells found himself saying, with little to no prompting from his brain. Now she was looking at him and he had no choice but to qualify that with more words. โ€œI wanted to make

sure you didnโ€™t feel weird about what happened. Wanted to get on the same page before our tee time.โ€

She leaned back on her hands, considering him. Outwardly, she was the picture of nonchalance, but even in the moonlight, he could see a slight flush on her neck. โ€œDo I seem weird about it?โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ he said slowly. โ€œThen again, youโ€™re out wandering the grounds before dawn.โ€

She wet her lips, rolled her left shoulder. โ€œAll right, Iโ€™ll admit I was a little caught off guard by the way you left so fast.โ€

That admission made his pulse scatter like a bag of dropped Skittles. โ€œI left so fast because I was caught off guard.โ€

โ€œBy what?โ€

โ€œHow good it was.โ€ When relief showed up in her green eyes, his sweat turned clammy on his skin. Had his leaving her room so quickly caused her to feel insecure? โ€œI donโ€™t know, my brain just kind of switched off when we started kissing. Itโ€™s never done that before.โ€

Were her cheeks rosier now or was that a trick of the moonlight? She looked almost . . . pleased by the fact that heโ€™d lost his ability to think when her mouth touched his. At least one of them was cool with it. He might as well have ridden a roller coaster backward. โ€œWhat do you usually think about during sex?โ€ she asked, finally.

Red flags waved in front of his face. โ€œJosephine, this conversation isnโ€™t happening.โ€

โ€œNo, I really want to know.โ€ She folded her hands in her lap. โ€œIโ€™ll go first

โ€”โ€

โ€œJosephine, donโ€™t even think of saying another word.โ€ His blood pressure was now somewhere in the clouds. โ€œFine. I guess I concentrate on . . . not saying anything that might lead the woman on, while still making sure

everyone has a good time.โ€ He tried to read her reaction to that and couldnโ€™t. โ€œIโ€™ve never been an asshole to women, Josephine. I just donโ€™t want to get stuck with one of them.โ€

She put a hand on her chest. โ€œI knew deep down you were a hopeless romantic.โ€

โ€œHey, they probably didnโ€™t want to get stuck with me, either.โ€ He rubbed an impatient hand on his thigh, wondering how the hell heโ€™d gone from

squats to baring his soul in a matter of minutes. โ€œWhat Iโ€™m saying is, I wasnโ€™t worrying about leading you on. Or getting stuck with you. I might have been surprised enough by that to leave a little abruptly. Believe me, it wasnโ€™t you.โ€

Josephine was quiet for so long, her feet moving side to side in the water, that he almost begged her to say something, but she finally said, โ€œYou left out the part where your hoodie was on backwardโ€”โ€

โ€œI have no idea what youโ€™re talking about.โ€

Her laughter danced over the surface of the water. The silence was okay after that, but it lasted only until she tipped her head toward the gate heโ€™d jimmied open. โ€œCorrect me if Iโ€™m wrong, but that wasnโ€™t the first time

youโ€™ve picked a lock.โ€

โ€œNo. But it has been a while. Good to know Iโ€™ve still got it.โ€ โ€œWhere did you hone these skills?โ€

He started to explain, then stopped. โ€œIโ€™m saying a lot of things this morning that make me sound like bad news.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t worry, I already knew you were bad news.โ€ She smiled, letting him know she was kidding. Thank God. โ€œI also . . . like you, anyway.โ€ She lifted her blue toes out of the water, wiggling them in the moonlight.

โ€œRemember?โ€

Josephine liked him.

You already knew that. She let you come on her tits.

Right. Maybe every time she said it out loudโ€”or gave him proofโ€”it would make him feel like a hero? That was something to look forward to. Recently, heโ€™d been looking forward to a lot of things. Reassured that he wasnโ€™t making himself sound like a supervillain, Wells continued. โ€œI didnโ€™t just fall in with a bad crowd growing up, I started the bad crowd. Kids who had too much freedom. Most of us got attention only when we landed in trouble, so we made a lot of it.โ€ He hesitated before telling her the next part. โ€œOn nights when my parents were using the house for a party, I used to break into my middle school to sleep in the gym. It was too loud at home.

The party might end, but theyโ€™d fight after too much alcohol. I just . . . got really good at picking locks.โ€

Josephine slid a little closer, until their hips were touching. โ€œI wish you didnโ€™t have to do that. Iโ€™m sorry.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s okay.โ€ He rubbed a circle into her lower back, sort of entranced by the way their feet looked together in the water. โ€œWhen I moved in with my uncle, I didnโ€™t have to sleep at school anymore. But later, I got caught with a stolen bike and the family court judge gave me an ultimatum. Spend time

in juvie or get a job. I took the second option, but I wasnโ€™t about to let some judge teach me a lesson, so I started stealing the odd watch out of lockers, purely out of spite. Or maybe peeling a few hundred-dollar bills off a wad of them. That all stopped once Buck got ahold of me, but yeah . . . the pool gate wasnโ€™t even a challenge.โ€

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their feet sluicing slowly through the water. โ€œBut you never totally stopped getting into trouble, did you? That fight a few weeks ago . . . and all the ones before that.โ€

Wells sighed. โ€œYeah. I guess itโ€™s not something that has ever fully left me.

The inner battle. I find that kind of comforting sometimes. Is that bad? I donโ€™t ever want to be a man who backs down from a fight.โ€

โ€œI think thatโ€™s okay. As long as youโ€™re fighting for something worthwhile.โ€

Mentally, he jogged back through the last few punches heโ€™d thrown. โ€œLetโ€™s say Iโ€™m sitting in a bar, minding my business, and some drunk stranger in a DraftKings hat starts calling me every name in the book for ruining his fantasy golf lineup. Then, letโ€™s say he throws a very saucy chicken wing at me. Would it be worthwhile to break his nose?โ€

โ€œObviously, yes.โ€

They shared a growing smile, then went back to looking at their feet in the water. โ€œWhat about you, belle? There has to be some trouble in your

past. A school suspension or a little trouble with the cops. Public indecency. Give me something.โ€

She squinted into the darkness. โ€œTallulah likes to party. More than me. She has this crazy high tolerance for alcohol and sheโ€™s a fun drunk, so it never mattered how often I drank Diet Coke at the bars, sheโ€™d still make it fun. More often than not, she went out with casual friends or a guy and I stayed home and waited for an entertaining report the next morning. But

this one time, she convinced me to go to New Orleans for her birthday . . .โ€ โ€œI like where this is going.โ€

โ€œDo you? Because I smoked pot for the first time and went on a ghost tour, which, in case youโ€™re wondering, is the number one thing you should not do after smoking weed, probably right behind sky diving and attending a live birth. Especially in an unfamiliar city.โ€

Wellsโ€™s ribs were starting to ache from holding in his laughter. So he finally let it out on a shuddering gust of breath.

โ€œWe ended up in a graveyard, where I swore that bony fingers were poking up out of the ground.โ€ She gave him a solemn look that sent him over the edge. โ€œSpoiler: it was grass.โ€

โ€œIronic. Is that where the night ended?โ€

โ€œNo, as it happens. When the tour was over, I was so worried I might ruin everyoneโ€™s good time with my freak-out that I doubled down and did two

shots of tequila, just to show everyone that I was having a good time. And that I wasnโ€™t worried the ghosts had followed us from the graveyardโ€”even though I really was. Literally, I was checking over my shoulder the whole night. But bottom line, the tequila kicked in and I ended up flashing a police horse. With a policeman on top.โ€

Wells shook his head slowly. โ€œThere are so many twists and turns in this story, my neck is going to be sore. Tell me you didnโ€™t get arrested for that.โ€

โ€œNot in New Orleans, no. I just got beads.โ€ โ€œFrom the officer?โ€

โ€œNo, the horse. But that could have been the weed talking.โ€

Wells had to bury his face in the crook of his arm to keep his laugh from waking up the whole damn resort. โ€œThat might be the greatest story Iโ€™ve ever heard.โ€

โ€œThank you.โ€

It wasnโ€™t until she glanced behind her, and down, that Wells realized heโ€™d been rubbing her lower back in a circle the whole time sheโ€™d been speaking. Now, in the silence, she moved closer to him and he thought, Yes, more kissing, but she surprised him by laying the side of her face on his shoulder, instead. What was the feeling that swept through his chest like a storm

wind? Some sort of combination of protectiveness and . . . gratitude that she felt relaxed and secure enough with him to use him as a pillow.

A series of beeps went off in his gym shortsโ€”and her pajama pants.

Her blood sugar must be low.

Josephine lifted her head, her attention swinging from his pocket up to his eyes. โ€œYou downloaded the app and accepted my follow request? You

didnโ€™t have to, you know.โ€ Worry clouded into the green of her eyes. โ€œIt beeps constantly. Like, it never endsโ€”โ€

He kissed her.

It happened without any critical thought involved. Kissing her was like the words to a favorite song. He simply knew the lyrics.

โ€œOf course I followed you in the app, belle. Soon as I got to my room last night and turned my hoodie the right way around.โ€ Chest tight, he reached into the opposite pocket of his shorts and fished out the roll of glucose tabs heโ€™d put there, handing them to her wordlessly.

She stared at them for a beat before taking them. โ€œYouโ€™re carrying tabs?โ€

Wells rolled his neck, praying his behavior wasnโ€™t overkill. Itโ€™s not like heโ€™d even expected to see her this morning. He was just trying to get into the habit of carrying them, so he would never forget.

Josephine still seemed to be at a loss for words. โ€œYou just . . . did that? And you didnโ€™t make a big deal out of it.โ€ Uncapping the tube, she popped two purple disks into her mouth, chewing slowly. โ€œThank you, Wells.

Really.โ€

Ask me to walk on broken glass next. Watch me not even hesitate. Those sentiments wanted to dive out of his mouth, but he followed his gut when it came to this woman and he sensed, he always sensed, that she didnโ€™t like to dwell on the topic of diabetes too long. โ€œWho makes you dance? Prince?

Madonna. The Weeknd?โ€

A slow grin spread across her face. โ€œNope. And stop trying to catch me off guard.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s only a matter of time before I figure it out.โ€

โ€œKeep dreaming.โ€

Wells carefully draped his arm over Josephineโ€™s shoulder, being mindful not to shift her or make her sit up. After a few minutes, he glanced down to see her eyes closed, her breathing deep and steady. Was sheโ€ฆ sleeping?

Yeah, she was.

On him.

He allowed himself a brief moment of stunned satisfaction before gently lifting Josephine into his lap. He turned, got onto his knees, and stood up, carrying her to a row of white plastic lounge chairs near the pool. He settled down, leaning back with her in his arms, and closed his eyes. He tried to imprint the sensation of her warmth against him before his own eyelids grew heavy. Just before he fell asleep, a strange thought crossed his mind. What if their trouble that morning hadnโ€™t been about finding sleep?

What if the real issue had beenโ€ฆ sleeping apart?

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