17. Chandler

SEVENTEEN

chandler

With eight bags between us, Willow and I had definitely overpacked. She heaved her floral suitcases into the storage compartment while I wedged mine beside it.

Caroline was crossing off names on her clipboard as each person entered the bus.

"Oh, looky!" Willow said, peppy as ever. "Your boy is in the back," she said with a wide grin as she nudged me toward him.

Boston was sprawled out in the last row. I couldn’t see his face, but his wavy hair caught the sunlight streaming through the tinted bus windows, and we both knew it could only be him.

"There she is," Boston said, as I got closer, only loud enough for me to hear. “Was hoping you'd sit with me. You want the window seat?"

"Sure," I managed, cheeks burning. He stood up to let me slide in, our fingers brushing in a silent hello that sent tiny shockwaves up my arm.

The rest of the team started piling onto the bus, laughter and chatter filling the space. Then, as always, Parker made his grand entrance.

"Damn, we have to be crammed on this bus?" he complained theatrically. "I was hoping since I'm so important I'd get the whole tour bus sitch. Have my own bed and bath."

Laughter erupted, and in a collective effort, napkins, which had been left in the cup holders, flew through the air, crumpled and aimed for Parker.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, ducking as he claimed his throne a few rows ahead of us.

As the last few stragglers made their way onto the bus, I scanned for any sign of Reese. Crew and Bailey had already found their seats, stirring up some kind of conversation with the coaches near them, while Caroline continued to tick off names with precision. But there was no Reese. Then, just before the doors closed, he stepped inside and slid into a seat up front.

"And we’re off," Boston whispered, as he lifted up his hood and leaned back in his seat.

The bus started its departure, making its way out of the Blue Devils’ parking lot. Boston shifted slightly in his seat, uncrossed his arms and sneakily slid his hand over until it found mine, fingers intertwining. I adored the intensity of his touch, the way his strong hand felt wrapped around mine.

"You doing okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand, hidden from view.

"Fine," I breathed out, relishing the electric connection between us.

"Alright, folks," Bailey's voice cut through the murmurs of drowsy athletes and half-hearted conversations. He stood up, a grin plastered across his face as if he were about to present the greatest gift on earth. "We need votes. Which home run dance should I do this weekend?"

With that, Bailey commenced in a little jig, his knees bumping against the seats by him. His feet shuffled awkwardly in the confined space.

"Or option number two!" Bailey called out, moving straight into another dance without missing a beat. The second dance was nearly identical to the first—same awkward shuffles, same wild arm movements—but no one cared.

"Bailey, you're a clown!" someone shouted from the middle of the bus.

"Both dances were the same, you idiot," Parker added, snickering.

Then Reese calmly said over the chatter, “Bailey, you never even make it to first base. Why the fuck would you have a home run dance?”

Laughter erupted throughout the bus, the sound mingling with the crinkling of more flying napkins. Just as the laughter reached its peak, Coach quickly shut it down. "Bailey! Have a seat or you can walk the rest of the way!"

He peered over his laptop, his eyes fixed on Bailey. The warning was clear and carried the weight of consequences that none of us doubted he would enforce.

"Okay, okay, I'm sitting down," Bailey relented with a dramatic sigh, plopping back into his seat which made way for a fresh wave of giggles and snickers. He threw a mocking salute towards Coach Levy.

"Never a dull moment with him, huh?" I whispered to Boston, shaking my head but unable to suppress my own smile.

"He keeps things interesting," Boston replied, his gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary. Then his hand inched toward my seat until his fingers grazed the hem of my shorts. His hand slipped further, a soft caress against my inner thigh that set my pulse racing.

"I’m glad you’re here," he said softly, barely a whisper.

"Me too," I murmured, giving him a slight smile.

Both of us were lost in a bubble of flirtatious secrecy as the scenery outside blurred past us. The thrill of our hidden exchanges behind the watchful eyes of our friends was intoxicating, the risk of getting caught only adding fuel to the fire igniting within me.

After a while, the hum of the bus's engine and the rhythmic sway of the journey had a soothing effect. I fought to keep my eyelids open.

I couldn't resist Boston’s warmth, and before I knew it, my head had found its way to his shoulder, fitting perfectly against him. I was drifting, floating on the edge of consciousness when the bus came to a gentle halt, stirring me. My eyes snapped open, and I instinctively pulled away from Boston's embrace, straightening up.

My eyes drifted around, unfocused and hazy.

"We’re here," Boston signaled with a nod toward the front.

"Did anyone see me fall asleep on your shoulder?" I asked, a little worried, as I scanned the seats ahead of us for my brother.

"Relax," Boston assured me, reaching out to squeeze my hand discreetly. "I stayed awake. No one looked back. Except Willow, once."

"Thank goodness," I sighed, relief washing over me.

"Your secret's safe," he grinned, that mischievous twinkle in his eye.

We all piled out, squinting in the bright sunlight, our limbs grateful for the freedom after the long ride. Caroline, clipboard clutched like a lifeline, was already marching toward the hotel lobby with purposeful strides.

"Make sure you've got everything," she called over her shoulder, assuming someone would be carrying in her luggage.

"I got it," Boston said gently, reaching for my bags before I had the chance to hoist them out.

"But I can?—"

"Don’t even try it," he teased, effortlessly lifting my luggage as if it weighed nothing as he brought them inside and set them on a luggage cart.

Willow was playing queen bee. I smiled as I watched Parker and Bailey split her bags between them, their faces resigned but good-natured. No one wanted to upset the coach's daughter.

We filed into the lobby. Caroline stood at the center, commanding attention as she began distributing the keys like precious tokens.

"Okay, listen up! Parker and Reese, you're together," she announced, handing them their cards. "Boston and Bailey, Willow and Chandler." She paused, then continued. “Devils’ Day Out winners get the upgrades. That means suites for Willow and Parker, and whoever's paired with them." Then Caroline continued to hand out the rest of the room keys.

"That’s the kind of service I’ve been looking for!" Parker exclaimed, throwing a victorious fist in the air.

"Absolutely no room switching," Caroline added sternly, her eyes sweeping over us as if daring anyone to challenge her.

Boston locked eyes with me, and gave me a nod as he headed to his room. He disappeared toward the elevators with Parker and a few others.

"Chandler, don't worry, I'm on it," Willow promised, pulling me aside by the elbow and into a corner of the lobby. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"On what?" I asked, watching as she typed something on her phone.

"You rooming with Boston," she whispered, flashing her phone screen at me. "Just sent Bailey a text. He's rooming with me now."

I blinked at her. "Willow, is Bailey going to think... you know, that you want to hook up?"

She snorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, trust me, absolutely not. Bailey's harmless. I can handle him."

Before I could protest, Bailey interrupted us, sliding a card into my hand with a sly wink. "I'm not gonna ask, and I know nothing," he muttered under his breath, a grin teasing at his lips.

"So babydoll, am I getting lucky tonight?" he joked, nudging Willow with his elbow.

Willow rolled her eyes dramatically. "If by 'lucky' you mean sleeping on the couch and as far away from me as possible, then absolutely," she retorted, her tone dripping with sweetness.

Bailey narrowed his eyes. "Wait, you won the suite? Why do I have to sleep on the couch?"

"Bailey, don't you know anything about women? The minute I open my suitcase, one bed will be buried under a mountain of clothes!" Willow retorted.

"Ah man, how did I sign up for this?" Bailey groaned, but laughter quickly followed.

I hesitated outside Boston’s door, clutching the swapped key card. Instead of swiping it, I knocked, heart pounding. The door swung open to reveal his blue eyes lighting up with surprise.

"Willow and Bailey are playing matchmaker," I blurted out as he leaned against the doorway. "Bailey switched our cards."

Boston's eyebrows shot up, and for a split second, doubt clouded his features. "And you’re okay with that?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, a lopsided grin forming on his lips.

With a small shrug, I said, "I can make him switch me back if?—"

"Are you kidding me?" Boston cut me off. "You're the only person I want to room with. If you’re okay with it, then get in here, girl."

Relief washed over me, and I pushed the cart into the room, my cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

As I looked around the hotel room, I paused in surprise. "Oh, I thought this was supposed to be a double room," I said.

"Yeah, the couch pulls out into a bed." Boston shifted his head toward the couch.

I started unpacking as Boston retrieved his bags, my gaze fell upon the dreaded uniform bag—the one that held more than just sports gear. Willow’s crazy idea suddenly felt like a ticking time bomb.

"Damn zipper always sticks," Boston said, totally unaware of my inner turmoil as he tugged at the bag.

"Let me help you with—" I started, but it was too late.

The bag ripped open and my lace underwear slipped out, fluttering to the floor.

I froze, mouth wide open, unable to form words or move. My brain screamed at me to do something—anything—but my body refused to cooperate. It may have been the most humiliating moment of my life. Universe- 3, Me- 0.

Boston paused, looking from the delicate fabric on the floor then back to me, a confused expression spreading across his face. There was a silent moment where we were both frozen in place, unable to move.

"Uh, Chandler..." he began, a hint of red creeping up his neck.

"Um." The only word I could force out, the only word my brain would allow me to form.

Boston's voice cracked with a mix of horror and confusion as his piercing blue eyes met mine, "I know that looks bad but I promise I have no idea whose those are. I haven't been with anyone this summer."

His words spilled out in a rush, a desperate attempt to clear the misunderstanding before it bloomed into something worse. There was an earnestness in his gaze, a vulnerability that I rarely saw in the confident athlete who lived next door.

For a moment, I tried to maintain my facial expressions, to keep up the pretense that this was all some terrible mistake. But as I watched him stand there, so genuinely distressed over my panties on the floor, my seriousness crumbled. I couldn't hold back the amusement tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Okay, I have a confession," I said, the words tumbling from my lips as I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to gather the courage that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind.

Boston's brow furrowed slightly, his concern giving way to curiosity. "What?"

"They're mine," I admitted shyly, heat rising to my cheeks under his intrigued stare.

"Okay, go on." His tone was gentle, inviting me to explain the madness of finding my lingerie in his uniform bag.

Sucking in a breath, I let out a little laugh to ease my nerves. "Well, I think... I was trying to surprise you with them, hoping you'd like them." The last part came out in a near whisper.

There was a pause—a heartbeat or two—before the atmosphere in the room shifted. Something in Boston's stance softened, and the echo of my confession hung in the air, charged with unspoken possibility.

Boston picked up the delicate fabric, his expression morphing from shock to something else. A roguish grin played across his lips as he held them up, a lightness in his eyes. "Fuck," he sighed. "These are sexy."

He tossed the underwear back into the bag. "I can work with this," he added, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm keeping them for good luck."

Before I could protest or even muster a coherent thought, Boston was standing before me, close enough for me to feel warmth radiating from his body. His hand reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear with a tenderness that contrasted with the playful glint in his blue eyes.

He leaned in, and I could almost taste the proximity of what promised to be a kiss that would surely sweep me off my feet?—

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. My heart leapt into my throat, and Boston paused, his gaze snapping toward the source of the interruption.

"Coach wants us at practice in 10," came Parker's muffled voice from the other side. The urgency in his tone was unmistakable, a reminder of the reality waiting just beyond these four walls.

"Meet you in the lobby!" Boston called out, reluctantly. He turned back to me and in one swift, fluid movement, his lips brushed against mine—a fleeting but electrifying contact that promised more.

"I'll see you for dinner later," he whispered, before he grabbed his bags and left the room.

As the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed, heart pounding against my ribcage. I let out a shaky breath, melting into the mattress as the remnants of his quick kiss tingled on my lips, the anticipation of dinner—and whatever else might unfold this weekend—setting my thoughts ablaze.