31. Hayden

CHAPTER 31

HAYDEN

The apartment's quiet when I get home from beer league, and my eyes land on the shipping box sitting on the table beside the front door.

The sex toy I bought Darcy.

Buying it was a huge mistake, especially after the way we woke up this morning, with my dick practically drilling a hole in her thigh.

I'm not giving it to her.

I drop my bag on the floor, pull out the jersey I got her, and set it on the counter. This gift is appropriate for our relationship.

Whatever our relationship is now. My mind wanders to last night, to the way she looked when I opened her bedroom door and saw her crying, and pain twists in my chest.

Kit didn't know what he had with Darcy Andersen. He didn't value her. He didn't see her, and now he thinks she's coming back?

These thoughts I'm having about her should make me feel guilty, but they don't. He never deserved her, and the only guilt I feel is that it took me eight years to realize that.

In the kitchen, I warm up food. Then I flip through sports highlights from the night while glancing down the hall, listening for her.

The lights are on, her sneakers are in the front hall closet, and her keys are on the table by the door, but she hasn't come out to say hi like normal.

She yanked the covers over herself this morning like she was uncomfortable.

My gut sinks.

Definitely not giving her the toy now.

"Darce?" I call, walking down the hall. Her bedroom door is open and the room is empty, but there's a sliver of light from beneath the bathroom door.

"Hi," she says from the other side of the door. I can hear her pacing around the bathroom.

Something isn't right. Is she avoiding me because of this morning? "Let's watch some TV."

"Um." The footsteps stop. "No, thanks. You go ahead."

There's a worried, distracted edge to her voice, and I frown, folding my arms over my chest. "I got you a present to say sorry about this morning."

Fucking liar , my brain whispers. I got her the jersey because I want to see my name on her back.

"Just leave it on the kitchen table and I'll see it in a bit."

She sounds weird, like she's stressed or anxious. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm okay."

I grip the back of my neck. Is it her period? "There's a bottle of aspirin under the sink, and I don't mind buying tampons, Darce. Real men aren't afraid of periods." I add that last bit with a hint of teasing, trying to lighten her up.

She chuckles, and my chest eases. "Good to know, but it's not my period."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. "

A long pause. "Hayden. I fucked up. Don't laugh, okay?"

"Laugh at what?—"

She opens the door, and my jaw hits the floor. Her previously pale-blond hair is now bright, hideous cartoon purple. A really jarring, ugly shade.

Her eyebrows match.

We stare at each other for a long, wide-eyed moment before I press a fist to my mouth to stifle my bark of laughter.

"You said you wouldn't laugh," she cries, slapping my arm.

"I didn't agree to that," I manage, barely holding it together, almost collapsing with the relief that something isn't actually wrong.

"Hayden! I look like Grimace from McDonald's." She turns to the mirror with a mournful expression.

I howl, doubled over and leaning against the wall. She does look like the big purple blob, or one of the Teletubbies. "Tinky-Winky? Is that you?"

A mortified noise scrapes out of her throat, but she starts laughing. She tries to close the door but I catch it, stepping into her space. We're both gasping for air.

This is what it's supposed to be like with Darcy and me, and this is exactly why I can't fuck it up. When we're just friends, we're perfect together.

The urge to kiss her rises, though, but I shove it down.

"Holy fuck, Darce." I pull a bright purple lock between my fingers. Her hair is still soft as silk, and the bathroom smells fresh and sweet like her hair products. "What did you do?"

She cringes. "I was so mad after my call with Kit, and I felt like doing something drastic. I wanted something light and pretty, but this is way too intense. It looks like?—"

"Barney the Dinosaur?"

She tries to give me a flat look but bursts out laughing again.

"Why'd you do the eyebrows?" I breathe with an incredulous expression.

"I don't know," she moans, glancing at her reflection.

"It's going to be okay." I put my arms out. "Come here."

She steps forward into my embrace, resting her head against my chest, and my chin comes to the top of her hair.

My heart jumps at the way she feels against me. "Don't worry," I murmur, "you're still beautiful."

In my arms, she tenses.

"You know, in a friend way," I add.

"I know," she says defensively.

We stand there for a long moment, and I run my hand down her back to comfort her.

"I guess Kit was right." She makes it sound like a joke, but there's an added element of vulnerability that has my eyes narrowing.

"What are you talking about?"

"I brought it up in the past, and he didn't like the idea." Her fingers tap on my chest, light and distracted. "It came up again last night. Something about his judgy tone pissed me off."

A slice of anger hits me in the gut. "You didn't tell me that."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Darce."

She looks up in surprise at my tone.

"You can dye your hair whatever color you want."

Her mouth tilts and amusement sparks in her eyes before she gestures at our reflection in the mirror. "Well, obviously he knew better than me."

"We'll fix it."

"I've washed my hair four times tonight. It's not coming out."

"Let's call in a professional. I'll get my friend Layla to help. "

"A friend?" She arches an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

"Not that kind of friend." I give her a look. All the women I've dated are kind and cool, but I feel weird about Darcy meeting one of them. "She comes here to cut my hair when my schedule's packed during the season. She'll be able to fix it."

Darcy tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." I pull out my phone to text Layla before opening my camera app and snapping a picture of Darcy and her ridiculous hair.

Her eyes go wide as she realizes what I'm doing, and I shake with laughter.

"No!" she cries. "I don't want evidence of this." She reaches for my phone, but I'm already slipping it back into my pocket.

" I do." I wiggle my eyebrows at her, delight spreading through me. "I never want to forget this."

"Give that to me," she orders.

I laugh again. "No."

"Then delete it."

"Also no." I beam down at her, batting her hands away as she tries to reach for the phone again. "I love that you're half my size but think you can overpower me."

She sighs, stepping back with a determined look, but she's fighting a smile. "You're going to put it on t-shirts or something."

"Now you're thinking. I'll get one for everyone on the team."

"Hilarious." She does a dry, fake laugh before her expression turns curious. "What was this you said about a present?"

In the kitchen, Darcy pulls the jersey out of the bag and holds it up with a hopeful smile. "For me?"

I laugh. "Yeah, for you. So you can wear it to my games." Our eyes meet, and I can't read her expression. "If you want. Obviously, you can wear whatever you want."

Her gaze lingers on me. "Do you want me to wear it?"

I should say something cool and nonchalant, but I just nod.

Her eyes warm, and she smiles softly. God, she's so fucking pretty, even with weird hair. "I want to, then."

Still smiling, she pulls it over her head. It's a little big on her, but in a fucking adorable way that makes me want to pick her up and toss her over my shoulder in some weird caveman display.

I clear my throat, trying not to look too pleased. "Looks pretty cute."

"You think?" She looks up at me through her lashes, the apples of her cheeks popping with her smile.

"Mhm." Warm pleasure expands through my chest. "And you'll fit right in with Pippa and Hazel."

Wishful thinking, I guess, that she would fit in with them completely. That she'd be cheering for me and supporting me in the same way the Hartley sisters support their guys.

As if we were together.

I should clarify, but I just let the implication linger, testing it out.

"Thanks," she says, looking down but still smiling. "I love it."

"You are very, very welcome."

"Can I pay you back?"

"Not a chance."

She huffs a light laugh, thick lashes fluttering, and fucking hell, I want to kiss her.

"A package arrived for you earlier," she says, glancing at the box on the side table, throwing cold water all over the dumb moony feelings I'm trying to ignore.

"Yep." I clear my throat, backing up a step. "I saw it."

Her eyes linger on my expression, and I lift my eyebrows, trying to look normal and not like I'm trying to hide the sex toy I bought her.

"What is it?" She watches me with a little curve to her mouth.

"What is what?"

"What's in the box?"

"I don't know."

Her gaze sharpens, and her smile hitches higher. "Open it, then."

"I'll open it later."

"Hayden." She steps toward the box, and I lunge for it, grabbing it and tucking it behind my back. Her jaw drops and her face lights up with an accusing, knowing smile. "I knew it. You're hiding something. What is in that box?"

"It's—" My brain goes blank. "Private?"

Her grin is teasing and gorgeous. "One of those weird sex things you're definitely not into?" she asks, lowering her voice, wiggling her eyebrows in a suggestive way as she tries not to laugh.

"Yep." I nod. "That's it."

She stares at me for a long moment before she darts forward, but instead of reaching for the box, she digs her fingers into my ribs, just below my pec, and a gasp of laughter bursts out of me.

"Tell me what's in the box," she demands, laughing as I gasp for air. "Or I'll tickle you until you pass out."

"Darce," I groan, shaking with laughter, trying to push her hands away. "You play dirty."

"That's right, Wingman, I'm merciless." She adds a second hand, digging into the other side of my ribs, and I accidentally drop the box in a struggle to get away from her, laughing the whole time.

"Fine," I gasp, catching my breath. "It's a sex toy."

Her hands fall to her sides. "What?"

I press my mouth into a firm line. "You, uh, said you get overwhelmed when you do research and didn't want to go into a store, so I asked a bunch of my friends, and they said this is the best one." My eyes dart to hers. "For G-spot orgasms."

Why did I say that last part?

"Oh." Is she blushing? She looks like she's blushing. "Thank you." She sounds dazed as she stares at the box.

"You don't have to use it," I rush out, reaching for the box. "It's inappropriate."

"No." She puts her hand out, and I jerk mine back so I don't accidentally touch her. "It's not inappropriate. You're my wingman." She glances between me and the box. "You're just looking out for me."

"Yeah." I nod.

"Right." She nods back and does that distracting lip-biting thing again. "It's not weird. I can't wait to use it and have all those great G-spot orgasms," she adds, starting to laugh.

I groan, closing my eyes, and she chuckles more. Fucking hell, can I picture it. Her lying on her bed, moaning and working the toy between her legs, inching closer and closer to her release while I lie in my bed on the other side of the wall.

"Yeah, well," I pick the box up and hand it to her. "Here you go. Have fun."

"Thanks." She rubs a hand over her red face before accepting it. "I'm going to bed." Her eyes widen. "Not to, like, use it or something. It's just been a long day with the hair and all. "

I give her a tight nod, putting on a smile. "Alright. Good night."

"Good night."

In my room, I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Owens, what are you doing? I drag a sobering breath in, listening to her bedroom door closing and her light footsteps as she gets into her bed. What the actual fuck are you doing?