20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Tripp

Bailey spent the night. She took the master bedroom—I took the guest room—and it still felt like I was breaking a rule. She offered to go back to her hotel after we dissected and discussed anything and everything Willow related, but it was too late.

I'm not the most experienced when it comes to dating, or whatever the hell it is Willow and I are doing, but I know that cancelling plans, as another woman sleeps in your penthouse, isn't the key to happiness.

Even I know I shouldn't have stood Willow up. Why can I hear Zack in my head, telling me what a jackass I am? If he was right next to me, he'd still be right.

If there's one thing my idiotic behavior taught me, it's that Willow is moving up on my list of all the things that deserve my time. My focus.

It's time I learn how to make room for something other than football. I wish I came up with that, but it's a direct quote from Bailey.

Last night, I almost called Willow. I'd pick up my phone, open our recent messages, and hover my finger above the call button. I didn't have it in me to actually call her. Instead, thoughts of Willow ran through my mind until I fell asleep. Her wrapped around me. How she smells like vanilla. Those perfect pink lips. The way her eyes went wide with pleasure when I backed her up against the door. The little noises she made when I kissed her.

Mostly, I think about how I probably have fucked up this whole thing .

Our last preseason game is this week. Everyone on the team is ready for the season to get going. Right now, it's mostly speculation about a group of guys who've never played together before and it's time to just figure shit out.

On my way home from practice, I call Willow.

"Didn't expect to hear from you." Her voice is cold and level when she answers.

"I owe you an explanation."

"Tripp, we don't have to do this. If you're not into it, it's fine—"

"That is so far from the truth. What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing." I can tell I've caught her off guard. "I need to get some writing done."

"Do you mind if I come over?"

"Don't you have your yoga class tonight?" She asks, skeptical.

I typically take a restorative yoga class on Thursday nights. I almost let myself smile when I think about how she remembered this small detail.

"I'm skipping it." Guilt pulls at the corner of my brain, but I wave it off.

"Sure. I'll be home around eight. You can come over if you want," she says.

"Perfect. Just enough time to switch cars. I'll be on my way shortly." In this moment, I plead with the traffic gods to just let me have this one.

"You don't have to switch cars if it's annoying…" Her words fade a bit.

"You're right. I don't have to, but I want to."