Chapter 18

Luke woke up because something tickled his nose. When he opened his eyes, he realized it was a strand of blonde hair, hair that was draped across his neck and had fallen into his face.

Emma's head was on his chest, her legs tucked up so her knees were pressing into his side, but only a little. One of her arms was lying across his belly, while the other was next to her body, bent at a weird angle. That could hardly be comfortable, and yet she was sleeping peacefully, her breath steady and her back naked – as was the rest of her.

He grinned at the sight. He could get used to this. Granted, he had broken her rules, but it wasn't as if she had put up any resistance. Quite the contrary: She had been all for it, to say the least, and she had proved once again that his memories hadn't betrayed him – she was the damned best he'd ever had in his bed.

Her head moved, and when she raised it a little, her fingers gently stroked his chest. God, even this little bit of touch made him so horny that he was glad to be covered by a blanket.

She yawned softly, stretched her legs, pulled the cover over her shoulders, and then let her head sink again, this time into the crook of his arm. Her hand stayed where it had been.

"I get the feeling I should regret something … but I can't remember what it is."

He studied her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her lips curved into a wide smile.

He ran his hand through her soft hair and had to smile, too. Regret was not something he often felt. And he certainly wouldn't regret what had happened last night. "You regret the things you didn't do, much more than the ones you did."

She yawned again and kissed him on the shoulder. "Ah, you're one of those guys. A player in the evening, and then you turn into a philosophical fortune cookie in the morning."

He laughed and shook his head. He would have given a lot to be able to see inside her head for a few hours. Given the things she tended to say, and the moments she chose to say them, things inside her head had to be very interesting. Her synapses were probably throwing wild parties in there.

"We didn't do anything that's against the law in this state, hence there's nothing for you to regret."

"You mean apart from your breaking and entering?"

Right. He had already all but forgotten about that. Though technically it wasn't breaking and entering if you had a key.

Emma didn't wait for an answer, but instead began to laugh. "You know what just occurred to me?"

She opened her eyes and beamed at him. "I still have those boxers of yours."

"You have them with you?" he asked, confused.

She laughed again. "Jesus, no. Did you think I was using them as my comfort blanket? No, I have them at home. In Germany. You somehow managed to forget them when you left."

"That happens," he commented with a shrug.

"I like to think that you wanted to leave a souvenir. Maybe you do that with every woman, and then you have to buy new underwear every two weeks."

"Touché," he yawned and pulled her closer into his arms. "And I picked an especially pretty pair just for you."

"You're such an idiot."

"Hey, it was your theory!"

She stuck out her lower lip. "That doesn't mean you have to confirm it!"

He put the back of his right hand over his eyes and groaned. Women.

"Do you remember how you told me over table soccer that I was never satisfied, no matter if I won or lost? I sympathize with the feeling of ‘you're never satisfied' right now."

She closed her eyes again and pulled the cover up higher. "Alright, you're forgiven. You earned your Get out of Jail Free card."

Of course he had.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

He thought about it. It was his one free day – no practice, no training, no game – which happened only once every ten days. He was set to meet his father for beers tomorrow night, and there were no other pressing duties to be fulfilled.

"Nope."

"Good." She had opened her eyes again and rolled over on her stomach, just to be able to give him a leering smile. "Because I thought we could repeat what we did last night. I have no idea what your stamina situation is, but as an athlete …"

He had to laugh at that. "Are you goading me again?"

"Maybe."

"You know, there's no need for that. If you're naked with a guy in bed, you don't have to issue an invitation. It's already implied in the situation."

"Oh, is that the rule? I should have googled it before I got here."

Apparently she didn't have to google how to drive a man crazy however, for when she kissed him again, he was close to losing control. But he felt that he needed to clarify something first. God, talking to a woman about the serious stuff was always so unpleasant. But he liked Emma, and he wanted her to be able to continue to like him, too.

"Emma," he said, taking her face in both hands so she wouldn't kiss him again before he could voice his caveat.

"Yes?"

He cleared his throat. "Regarding the sex and all that."

Damn it, why did one always feel so incredibly dumb in that kind of conversation? He hadn't felt this stupid when he had misspelled the word ‘banana' in an elementary school spelling bee. "Just so we're on the same page … You're not thinking that we're …"

He hadn't expected Emma to giggle.

"That we're a real couple now?" she prodded and gave him a wide grin. "Don't worry, cowboy. You're the last person on earth I would start something serious with."

He stared at her. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have said that he didn't like this answer one bit.

Something strange spread through his chest. Something like cold air.

Sure, he wasn't exactly marriage material or anything of the kind, but the last person on earth? It would have been nice to be at least the second but last.

He tried to smile. What had he expected her to say? A confession that she was already head over heels in love with him? He should be glad. When time was up for their token relationship, nobody would be hurt. If that wasn't good news, he didn't know what was.

"Can I kiss you again now, or would you like to explain how you always cry when you watch Twilight?"

"You should be punished," he growled, and his control went down the drain.

***

Emma didn't sleep anymore. At least not in her guest bed. Even when Luke was away on out-of-town games, and she was alone in the apartment, she had taken to sleeping in his bed. She couldn't have explained what the appeal was. It was a little like with children, who insisted the bed of their parents was that much more comfortable than their own.

Maybe it was simply his scent, which permeated the sheets – but that would have been way too sentimental for a token relationship, so she chose to ignore the idea.

She had meant what she had said. Luke was the last man with whom she could envision a serious relationship, and what was more, she would soon be living several thousand miles away from him again.

The thing was however, there had been a time when she'd said she'd rather drink a glass of brine from a hot dog can than eat olives – and now olives were the extra topping that she ordered on every pizza she ate, and she'd never drunken actual brine.

The fact of the matter was that sometimes it simply felt like a real relationship. When he brought her a keychain with the emblem of the city he'd been to. When he bought skim milk instead of full fat. When he gave her a goodbye kiss before he left the house in the morning. Luke might never have been in a fully functional relationship before, and thus not know it – but these were the kinds of gestures you used to show that you were an item, and liked each other in earnest.

On the other hand Emma wouldn't call herself a relationship expert, so what did she know?

It wasn't wrong to like each other. If they didn't, cohabitation would be very difficult.

The day after the gala, after the nocturnal baseball practice, and after the things that happened afterwards, Emma had called Milla, and discussed matters in detail. Starting with Brittany's meanness, and ending with Luke's reminder that their relationship was only for show.

Milla had uttered a heavy sigh, and said it was a miracle that it had taken them so long to end up in bed together, and that a little casual sex had never hurt anyone – at least anyone who used condoms.

Emma was satisfied with that answer. Milla had neither criticized her nor warned her not to fall in love with him, nor opined that Emma wasn't cut out for something casual. Apparently her big sister believed that Emma had grown up and was an adult now. Or maybe Steve had told her again that she fussed too much over Emma.

It didn't matter. Emma was happy. She had a job that she loved, the upcoming wedding all organized and under control, found new friends in Michelle and her squad of girls, and the best sex of her life. What was not to love?

***

"Have you finally found time to look into the offers I sent you?"

"Mhm?" Luke was looking at the screen of his phone, typing a text message.

Wesley sighed and slapped the desk with the palm of his hand.

They had met for their bi-weekly meeting, to discuss important matters. Luke simply couldn't recall what the subject was supposed to be.

"You're not even listening to me, Luke!" his agent complained and flipped a small wad of crumpled paper into his friend's face.

Luke looked up from his phone and put it into his pocket. "I'm sorry, I just had to check with Emma what I should buy afterwards, so she and I can cook dinner tonight."

Wesley raised his eyebrows and looked at him as if he'd just announced he was going to dye his hair platinum blonde. "You're way worse than me!"

"Bullshit," Luke said in an irritated voice, and sat up straight. "Making plans for dinner has nothing to do with your touchy-feely drivel."

"Take it from me, big boy, it's the beginning of drivel."

Luke grinned. "I beg to differ. It's the beginning of another night of no-strings-attached sex."

Wesley dropped heavily into his office chair and then put his feet up on his desk. "No-strings-attached sex was an invention of the hippies in the seventies, just to make it into the history books with that slogan. It's a myth. Sooner or later, one or the other gets clingy and affectionate."

Luke was annoyed. He didn't think Wes was in a position to talk big here.

"Wesley, shut up with your girl talk and tell me what we're supposed to talk about."

His agent drummed his pen on a stack of paper, before taking his feet off his desk again, and pushing the stack in front of Luke. "If you hadn't been playing house, you would know that already. I want to know whether you've looked at the offers from the other teams yet. Since you've been delivering peak performance recently – which isn't completely unexpected given the circumstances, I might add – especially compared to last year, quite a few teams have knocked on our door." He spread out the sheets of paper and pointed his pen at the first. "New York Mets. Atlanta Braves …"

"I want to stay with the Delphies," Luke interrupted him and shrugged his shoulders. "I like it here."

Hi agent tapped the sheets of paper again. "Some of them would pay you ten percent more."

Luke shrugged again. "As if I needed still more money. If I did, I'd write my autobiography."

Wesley narrowed his eyes. "You know Emma's going to return to Germany soon, don't you? She's not going to stay in Philadelphia forever …"

Luke sighed. "Wes, I want to stay with the Delphies because I get along with the coaches and with my teammates, and because my father lives here – not because of Emma. We're in a token relationship. Good God, it was your fucking idea; how could you forget that?"

"You don't act like it's all just a token thing, that's why I forget it," Wesley said bluntly. "You act like a man who, given the choice between a strip club and a cozy evening in front of the TV with her, wouldn't even think twice."

"Oh come on, dude," Luke groaned and raked both hands through his hair. His agent was beginning to seriously piss him off.

"Just because you're suddenly thinking about populating the world with little Wesley juniors, doesn't mean everyone is doing the same. I like Emma, and the press is finally leaving me alone. Haven't you noticed that there hasn't been another article or column on me within at least two weeks?"

Wesley gave him a dark look. "Yes, I have."

"There you go. And if that means I get to stay home, watch TV, and have sex with a hot woman, instead of going to a strip club, of course I'll choose the hot woman – so stop getting on my nerves, and stop acting like you're Dr. Sommer!"

"Who the hell is Dr. Sommer?"

Luke waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter."

He rose from his chair and straightened the collar of his jacket. "Are we done here then? Do the Delphies want to extend my contract?"

"Of course they do."

"Good. Then write up the new contract."

***

"Yes, Mama, of course normally you'd be the first to know if I had a new boyfriend. But I already told you we're only a couple for the papers."

Emma emitted a desperate sound and ground the back of her head into the pillow. It was one a.m., which meant that for her mother it was seven in the morning – and she sounded as fresh as a daisy.

"I don't get it. Why do young people have to do things like that? Why have a pretend-relationship? Whatever happened to ‘girl meets boy, falls in love, has children'?"

Her mother's voice was anything but sympathetic or understanding, and Emma in turn could understand that, at least in part. She could hardly sigh yearningly and ask what the sex was like – the way her German friends did.

"Soaps and reality TV destroyed that image," Emma stated patiently as she crossed her legs.

"So let me get this straight: You don't have feelings for each other, and you only pretend to have a physical as well as an affectionate relationship, also only when the cameras are rolling?"

"Uh …" Emma looked around her.

She was sitting in Luke's bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, and was still awake because he was due home any minute, returning from a three-day trip to Texas. He had promised he would show her the things that were illegal in Texas.

"Yes," she said quickly. "That's exactly the way it is."

"Okay. At least I can explain that to your father."

Emma would actually prefer her parents not to talk about this at all, but okay. She couldn't expect to have everything.

She heard the front door open and close, and a smile crept into her face. "Mama, I have to go now. We'll talk again soon."

"Okay, and we can also try to do the face-on-the-computer-screen thing soon, yes?"

Emma laughed. "Sure. We can use Skype next time. I love you; give Papa a kiss from me."

She had barely tapped the red receiver icon, when Luke stood in the doorway, leaned against it, and grinned down at her. He looked exhausted, and his hair was falling over his eyes, but it didn't fully conceal the dark circles under them.

"I expected you to be naked," he said by way of greeting as he dropped his bag.

"It's cold," she replied with a shrug and grinned back at him. "Plus I know how much you like the undressing part, so I wouldn't spoil the fun for you."

"How very considerate of you." He sat down on the bed next to her and gave her a more or less brief hello kiss. Rather less brief, and more drawn out.

"I brought you something," he finally said and pulled his bag closer.

"Is it a cowboy hat?"

"A Stetson? No."

"Cowboy boots?"

"No."

She furrowed her brow. "A pony?"

He laughed and shook his head. "No, it doesn't have anything to do with Texas."

He opened a zipper and pulled out a shirt-like garment in red-white-and-blue. A large number fourteen was printed on the back.

She smiled. "A jersey?"

"My jersey. You don't have one yet, and I think you should."

She reached out and took the soft shirt from him. "Is there a specific reason for this gift?"

He took off his shoes and sat down on the bed with his legs stretched out. "I think you should acknowledge that you're a fan."

She laughed again and sat cross-legged. "A fan of your team or of you?"

"Of me, of course. Who cares about the team? You should actually be my number one fan." He crossed his hands behind his head with a smug expression.

"In the game or in bed?" Emma asked innocently.

"How about both?"

She turned the shirt in her hands and wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry to say so," she finally said slowly, "but that smells as if it hasn't been washed."

"It's not," he confirmed, perplexed. "I wore it today. I wore it for today's game."

"Oh. Nice." She frowned in confusion. For a moment they were both silent, but then she looked up with a shake of her head. "But then why didn't you wash it?"

"Well," he cleared his throat and lowered his arms, "because it's more precious like that."

She raised an amused eyebrow. "More precious? You mean because it's heavier with your sweat, it's more valuable? Does that work like with precious metals? Gold? The heavier the better?"

He groaned and sank down on the mattress. "No. I don't know. I thought you would like it."

She laughed out loud and placed her legs on top of his. "I do. Really. Who would have thought that you're a real romantic?"

Her face lit up, much like that of a child. "Does that mean I'm not allowed to wash it, ever? And you have to blow your nose in it, so I can keep it forever like that: complete with sweat and snot!"

He made an agonized face. "I should have guessed it wasn't a good idea. As if I didn't already feel like a complete idiot often enough with you …"

"No, no. I really like it!" she backpedaled quickly, opening her eyes wide to affirm her sincerity. "Here, let me prove it to you."

She pulled his old tee over her head and exchanged it for the jersey, which seemed to be a lot bigger, and fell down almost to mid-thigh. "See?"

She went up on her knees and spread her arms wide. "I like it."

He stared at her and let his index finger slide down the side seam slowly. The look in his eyes was X-rated.

"I have to admit this is hot somehow."

"You think everything's hot," she laughed and went to sit on his lap, her legs on both sides of him now.

"That's simply not true," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you wore a jersey with a different number for example, that would be anything but hot."

She tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. "So if I was wearing a different number, you wouldn't sleep with me now?"

She scooted up higher on top of him, and placed her hands on his stomach. "Are you sure?"

His blue eyes seemed to darken as he narrowed them, too. "As soon as I'd take it off you, I still would," he stated calmly, before using his lips to remove any doubts she might still be harboring.