6. Atlas

Atlas

Chapter six

Her phone won't stop ringing. It could be her dad, but I know she'll be out of the shower soon to take care of it.

Instead, I busy myself with flipping through the television channels, trying to find something to watch. But right as a knock sounds against the door, I land on the sports report channel, where they're covering my game. I set the remote down and head toward the door.

The food service caterer delivers me the pizzas and drinks and then leaves after I tip him. I head to the kitchen to set down the food, wanting to grab plates and napkins.

Having Tatum in my hotel room was not expected. But I really did feel like an ass for causing that bruise on her face. And normally, there wouldn't have been anything I could do about it. It's the risk of having seats near the end zone really, which by the way she really did have some of the best seats in the house. This feeling washes over me, sympathetic to learn she had to sit there all alone.

When we passed her by on the bus—curled up under an awning and trying to call someone on her phone—I knew I had to make sure she was okay. Not just from me but from the storm that pummeling the town. Sure, the guys gave me shit for being a kiss ass, but I felt in my gut it was the right thing to do. So here I am, dishing out sliced pizza and pouring Sprite into plastic cups, offering my bed to a girl that has no fucking right to be as pretty as she is.

That's one thing I wasn't expecting. And I won't lie, having her this close to me is going to be a challenge. A challenge that has never been a problem for me before, but tonight, I'm pretty positive I will be tested.

I take the plates and drinks over to the coffee table, thinking we could eat by the couch and watch TV of some sort. She said she wanted us to get to know each other a little better but I have no clue what that means. It could mean a lot of things. I've never been one really interested in getting to know girls, like ever. Not that I don't have women throwing themselves at me, the perks of being a professional football player, or a football player in general really. But dating has never been a priority of mine.

"Wow, you really are just that full of yourself." Tatum's soft tone speaks up from behind me and I turn to greet her, but I'm stopped dead in my tracks.

"Holy shit," I say out loud. Not purposefully, but some things just can't be helped. Tatum stands there, her hair seemingly redone in the same bun she'd worn earlier, her face washed clean of all makeup, and wearing nothing but my jersey and her knee-high socks.

I see a slight blush arise against her brown skin, lighting up her beautiful honey eyes. I've never seen a sight so demanding of attention. She smiles shyly at me, obviously caught off guard by my reaction as she tries to be sarcastic with me.

I don't shy away from the up and down I allow my eyes to make, several times over. My jersey falls to her knees, but I can see her thick thighs in my head. The glint of her gold nose ring catches my eye. And that's when I see the clarity of the bruise right below her eye.

I really did a number on the poor girl.

Tatum stands there, probably unsure of what to say or do as I analyze just how fucking sexy she is. But then the background noise fades back in and that's when I realize, the Saints and Panthers game highlights are still the talk of the channel, which is what she must have been talking about.

I smile at Tatum before turning to grab the remote and muting the television.

"Hope your shower was nice. Pizza is here. Figured we could watch a movie or something," I tell her, allowing myself to calm myself down from the adrenaline that was pumping through me.

See, there's the kind of adrenaline that courses through one's veins before a football game, feeding your drive and energy to play your ass off. Then there's the adrenaline rush that Tatum just gave me, it's different and new but just as exciting. But fuck, if she doesn't already think I'm some kind of player to begin with. I really need to force myself to come down from the high of watching her get nervous by my brazenness for a beat.

"Yeah, sounds good." Tatum finally leaves her position at the bathroom door and walks toward me.

I hold up a plate of pizza for her and she smiles at me, grabbing it and telling me thank you before sitting down on the couch, one of her legs pulled in under her.

"And thanks for the jersey," she adds, but I choose not to respond to her because I made a terrible mistake by lending her my clean jersey when all that's going through my mind right now are dirty thoughts of me taking it off her body.

I simply take my seat next to her and take a bite of my pizza. We decide to watch Friday Night Lights, because she said it was her favorite movie which honestly, kind of shocks me. I mean, I love Friday Night Lights, but not a lot of other people do. And no, I don't like it because one of the teams in the movie has the same name as my team, that's just a coincidence.

Right as the movie is about to start, I hear a faint buzz pick back up in the background. We both look over at where her phone sits on the round table.

"Oh yeah, your phone hasn't stopped ringing since you got in your shower," I turn to tell her.

She sets her plate down. "Must be my dad."

"I wouldn't know. I don't snoop through other people's phones," I quip, giving her a side eye and taking another bite of my food.

I see her stop, look at me, and then roll her eyes before continuing toward her phone. I don't hear her answer the phone right away. Instead, I hear her groan irritatingly. I look over to see her scrolling a few times.

"Everything okay over there?" I ask her. She just sets the phone down on the table and says, "Yeah, all good."

But then her phone starts ringing again and this time she answers it. I try to give her privacy by focusing on the movie, but I can't help but to listen to the sound of her voice, which I've come to find just as comforting as running routes.

"It's so nice to hear from you too, dad," she says on the phone.

I can't hear anything but a muffled voice come from her speaker, though I continue to try and listen to her responses.

"Yeah, I know. I can't believe it either. No, I'm safe. I'm with…" She looks over at me, catching me listening to her. "With a friend." She finally says after her pause.

"No dad, I already told you. I'm with a different friend." She turns back away from me.

"Dad, I don't know if I can tell you who I'm with. And even if I could I'm not sure you'd wanna know." She lowers her voice to a hushed tone which only raises my curiosity, but I know I should probably mind my own business, so I focus back on the television screen.

"Yes, dad. It is a boy. But I promise, he's been very kind so far and-" I smirk when I hear her say this a little louder than the rest of her conversation.

"Dad, no! You do not want to talk to him." I hear defense tangle in her tone and I can't help but chuckle.

"Dad, I'm twenty-eight years old," she says to her dad, and I make a mental note that she's four years older than me.

"Seriously?" I snap my eyes over to her to see she's getting visibly annoyed, and right at the same time, she looks my way.

"Okay." She covers the speaker of the phone and holds it out to me.

"This is really awkward, I know. But my father would like to talk to you."

Well, I've never had this happen before. Judging by the look on her face, this might be the first time this has happened to her as well. So I stand to entertain the phone call.

I set down my plate and I wipe off my hands before walking over to take the phone from her hands. Before I answer it, I cover the speaker and ask her a question.

"What's your dad's last name?"

Tatum gives me a curious look before answering.

"Darling," she tells me.

I clear my throat and answer.

"Hello, Mr. Darling." I don't hear an answer right away but after about five seconds, her father speaks up.

"Well, well. I see you've got some manners on you. Now what are you doing with my girl? You know there's a major storm happening right now. You all safe?"

I almost want to laugh. Of course I know there's a blizzard blanketing the town right now. But I don't question him.

"Yes, sir. I saw your daughter stranded on the side of the road right as the snow started to pick up after the football game. I figured I'd see if she needed help. I hope you don't mind that I offered her to stay here until it clears." As I answer Tatum's dad, she turns away, her back to face me, and I can tell she's not having fun with the fact that I am on the phone with her dad right now.

"No, I guess I don't mind. I actually really appreciate that. But she sleeps in her own bed," he declares.

I can tell Tatum is starting to get a little uncomfortable, like she's worried about disappointing her dad or causing him to worry about her being stuck with a stranger. I think about how I don't want to be the one to cause that worry in her, despite how weird having a conversation like this is with the parent of someone you're not even dating.

I decide to try and reassure her, so I reach out to touch her shoulder, signaling her to turn to face me. I then grab her hand, the one currently with her fingers between her teeth, biting her nails in anticipation. I take it from her mouth and intertwine my fingers with hers. Her soft skin is a delicate feeling against my large, rough hands, and her eyes widen at my gesture, but she welcomes it still.

"I've offered her the bed, sir. I wasn't expecting guests, this is just the hotel my team usually stays at after the games here and everyone books their own rooms. But I promise, no funny business. I'm just hosting her until the storm passes." I mean what I say. Despite the jabs Tatum has made toward me, my mother raised me to be a gentleman. I may be mean on the football field, but that's not who I am as a person.

"Team?" Her dad pauses for a beat. "You play on the football team?"

"Yes, sir. I do."

"The Saints?" he asks, and I know Tatum can hear him through the phone, a smirk growing on her face. One that I've grown to really enjoy.

"Umm, no, Mr. Darling. I play for the Panthers. Atlas King." I grin back at Tatum as I squeeze her hand in mine.

"My boy, do you know that the Saints and the Panthers have been rivals for years and years. The Darlings are die hard Saints fans. Don't you try to corrupt my baby girl into being no Panthers fan now. Because let me tell you, she'll be the first to point out a good play when she sees one, even if it's of the opposing team and your touchdown, boy, was one of those plays." There's a pause for a moment, and I almost don't know what to say. I can see the trouble playing on Tatum's face, she's almost about to break out into laughter. But then her father shocks her.

"I hate to say it, but good game, son."

"Thank you, sir." I wink at Tatum as she lets her mouth fall open, like she can't believe what she just heard, and almost as if she really is annoyed.

"You can call me Tony. Now pass me back to my daughter."

"Goodnight, Tony."

I let go of Tatum's hand, not expecting to miss the contact. I thought I was just helping her cope through this awkward situation, but I actually crave having her hand back in mine. I shake off the feeling, handing her the phone back and taking a step back to let her finish the conversation with her dad.

"Yes, dad. I love you, too. Goodnight."

She hangs up the phone and places it back on the table. I lean against the couch; my arms crossed and wait for her to say something.

She takes a visible deep breath before facing me.

"I'm so sorry, that was so embarrassing." I can see the humiliated expression on her face.

"It wasn't that bad. He just really cares about you, it's a good thing."

She doesn't say anything, she simply turns her head back to the table where her phone continues to go off on a vibrating rampage.

"The entire time I was on the phone with your dad, your phone kept vibrating in my ear. Everything okay?" I nod to the device, and I can tell her mood shifts, irritation radiating off her.

"Yeah, it's just the guy I was supposed to go on a date with. He won't stop texting me, trying to apologize. Said he fell asleep."

"Well, you got a hold of your dad. So why don't you turn your phone off, come back over here and watch this movie." I nod to the TV in hopes that she'll ignore the persistent caller. Something possessive comes over me, wanting to answer the phone and tell the fucker to leave her alone, but more so just wanting her to ignore him. I don't know if she's eager to hear back from him or not, but judging by the way she seems to relax at my suggestion, ease settles over me.

Tatum sighs but ultimately agrees. She switches her phone to do not disturb and we head back to sit down on the couch but right as we both hit the cushions, all of the power in the hotel room goes out.

"Shit," I exclaim. I stand to look outside, seeing that almost every light in the distance is out as well. The snow is still coming down relentlessly. "I'll go see if there are flashlights anywhere."

Tatum jumps up from the couch—the only light in the hotel is that coming from the slight sliver of moonlight provided outside, peaking through the curtain on the window—and before I can get too far, she reaches for my hand again.

I stare down where our skin touches, then look back up at her, confused.

"I'm not afraid of the dark or anything," she says sarcastically. "But have you seen a single scary movie?" she deadpans, and I try my best not to chuckle at how ridiculously cute she sounds.

She smiles at me, and I lead her toward the bedroom.

"I'll check that nightstand if you wanna check the other," I direct her to the other side of the bed before loosening our fingers once more to let go of her hold. Again, not something I want to do but have to.

We both head toward separate nightstands and flip through the drawers. I have no luck finding anything, but I look over right as Tatum clicks the button of a flashlight.

"Found one," she says, waving it around for a second.

She sets the flashlight to stand straight up on the nightstand, amber light illuminates one side of her body silhouetting her beautifully across the bed from me.

Fuck, I am desperate to feel her skin against mine again, seeing how smooth it is in this lighting. And the way my jersey hugs her curves is unreal. But I can't be having these kinds of thoughts. I just can't. She's here for the shelter until she can get back out and head home.

"Well, I guess it is getting late. I think I'm gonna just head out to sleep on the couch if that's okay with you?" I ask her, rubbing the back of my neck and trying my hardest not to eye fuck the girl in front of me.

Tatum doesn't answer, she simply hops up on the bed, her curls giving a slight bounce as she lands, and she pats down at the space next to her.

"Up," she says. And I shake my head at her.

"Come on," she begs, and I know this isn't going to end the way I know it should.

"Tatum, I'm going to be really honest. I don't think we should sleep in the same bed." My admission is hesitant to say the least, because I would love to sleep in the same bed as her, if only just to say at least I got to do that. But that could be dangerous for both of us.

Tatum grins at me and pats the bed again.

"We're not going to sleep, silly." A mischievous smile plays across her lips.

"Then what are we doing?" I ask.

"We are going to play truth or dare."