Inside the car I’d borrowed to drive Six to the airport, we’d sat idling in front of the entrance for a good twenty minutes, mostly due to her stubbornness.
I wanted to walk her in.
But she wasn’t a fan of that plan.
“Let me come in with you,” I begged for the fortieth time since we’d left the hotel that morning. The team bus would be coming in just under two hours to bring us back here, to the private plane entrance to fly home ourselves, but I’d been nearly apoplectic at the idea of putting Six in a cab and sending her on her way by herself.
She was headed home, back to California for a week, and the idea of not seeing her until she met us in Dallas for the next game was…unsettling.
It’d actually taken a special favor from the hotel’s concierge—a big fan, thankfully—to acquire a car to bring her myself.
If the picture on the backside of the visor was anything to go by, I was pretty sure he’d given me his personal vehicle.
“No way.”
“Six—”
“Sean, no.” She cut me off, turning her small body in the tan leather seat to face me. Her eyes were serious, something rare for Six, as she appealed to my rational side earnestly. “Are you forgetting who you are?”
“Pretty sure I know exactly who I am,” I argued, turning her words against her. I didn’t want to think about all the other stupid shit. To me, I was Sean Phillips, brother to Cassie and son to Greg and Diane.
Six rolled her eyes. “To the public, Sean. You’re one of the Mavericks’ best players. You’re utterly recognizable around here.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her words of praise. Six was never easy on me, and she rarely acknowledged me as anything other than an asshole. Getting a little peek into a side of secret admiration excited me. “I am, huh?”
“Oh God,” she sighed with a laugh. “Does your ego ever stop needing to be stroked?”
I waggled my eyebrows, and a wayward hand reached out to love on the meat of her thigh. It was all its decision, though, not mine, and I would hold strongly to my stance in a court of law. “Stroking is always good.”
“I walked right into that one,” she admitted, turning to look at the busy sidewalk right outside her window. Pittsburgh airport wasn’t as bad as my home airport, Newark International, a major hub in a populated state, but it wasn’t a slouch either. There was an uncomfortable amount of people, and all of the crosswalks bustled with hordes of humanity each time the light switched over to allow for pedestrians.
The police patrolled the drop-off and pickup stations, and I could guarantee any vehicle that came in or out of here was on a rigorous amount of security film. Hank, the concierge, must have had pretty high confidence that I wouldn’t get into too much trouble.
I shrugged. “Yep. Pretty much. Now, let me come in with you and help you from walking into other things. Like walls. People. Men’s locker rooms.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure there are no locker rooms in an airport.”
“Men’s restrooms, then.”
“No,” she declared unequivocally, completely rejecting the good-natured bait I’d left in an attempt to inject some humor. “I’m not interested in having our picture everywhere.”
“Embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not normally. I mean, it’s not you. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I earned by working hard and not by fucking one of the players. I’m not too keen to give that all away to tabloid fodder claiming otherwise. And yes, I am sure it would end up in a tabloid. I’m not stupid. There are cameras everywhere.”
“All right,” I finally conceded. I wanted to extend our time together, but not at the expense of her career. I wasn’t that big of a dick. “I guess this is it, then.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught the familiar black of a full uniform. The officer was working his way up the line of cars, telling them to move on, and I knew I had to usher in a sense of urgency if this goodbye wasn’t going to be a total letdown.
“Come on, baby. The cop is on his way. When he gets to us, he’ll make me drive away whether you and your bag are out of the car or not.”
Forward and without warning, Six leaned into my space and sealed her mouth to mine. The line of her lips was pliant and accommodating, so I sank my tongue into the deepest part of her mouth and savored the taste. With a flavor of apples and crisp water, Six tasted fresh and uncomplicated, unlike all of the other women I’d ever met. She didn’t have a fancy flavored lip gloss, and her face wasn’t overdone. She was natural beauty personified.
I watched achingly as she walked away, telling myself it was the fault of a sexual connection. The two of us fit, harmonized, and elevated one another.
But our fun would be brief, though a little longer than the rest, and when she was done filming us at the end of the year, I’d say my goodbye without hesitation.
It was imperative for my focus and relevant to what I wanted out of life. I didn’t need distractions and bitter feelings clouding my game, and I didn’t need a woman who lived on the opposite side of the country.
Still, the goodbye nagged at my insides as I pulled away, and I got lost in a series of daydreams. The sex we’d had and that we hadn’t. I ran through every interaction I’d had with Six and then some. She was dynamic and bold and unchallenged by the idea of knowing how much she had to offer.
She forced me into humility on nearly every occasion she could manage, and yet, I still felt better about myself around her than I felt anywhere else.
I glanced up as I pulled inside the parking garage, startled to find that I hadn’t exited the airport as intended.
Instead, I’d circled, finding the most convenient parking for short-term visitors and set about doing it.
Committed, I didn’t give myself the chance to rethink before finding a spot, shutting off the engine, and speeding inside.
I scoured the ticket counters to no avail and immediately rerouted to the security line. Cognizant of her wishes, I pulled the ball cap lower over my eyes and stood to the side, waiting for her to weave back in my direction to get her attention.
I didn’t think shouting her name would win any awards with her or airport security.
She finally noticed me ten minutes later, and when her eyes softened and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile at my subtle wave, I knew it’d been worth it.
No words were spoken and, materially, nothing was gained. But that one moment had confirmed to me what she refused to make known—whether she wanted to or not, she liked me just as much as I liked her.
Six’s face was vibrant and engaging as she interviewed each of the players for the opening segment of the Mavericks series on her YouCam channel. Since the first episode released this morning, it’d already seen over five hundred thousand views, and the comments were overwhelmingly positive—aside from the normal number of trolls.
I, however, was reliving the first day we’d really interacted with each other and thinking about how cute she’d been while giving me a hard time.
Backing out of the app on my phone where I’d been working on my latest architecture project, I moved into the messages and typed one out to her.
Me: I look fat.
Six: Um, what?
Me: On camera. The first episode of your series. My abs aren’t being showcased properly.
Six: Why? Because I made you wear a shirt?
Me: Yes. I feel oppressed.
Six: Hey, I told you to do the segment in your underwear.
Me: No! You joked about it, but you shamed me with your eyes. I saw them. Judgy, chocolatey, shame eyes.
Six: Really? You could see all that through your pouting?
Me: You forgot about me!
Six: You’re very forgettable.
Me: So you say. And yet, you keep sleeping with me.
Her response was nearly immediate.
Six: Convenience.
I laughed out loud. Even in text message form, she had a quick wit.
Me: There’s an awful lot of B-roll in this episode featuring me, though.
Six: Joe has a crush on you.
I laughed out loud at her easy deflection and settled in to see how she was faring out in California without the important things. New York…and me.
Me: How’s California treating you?
Six: Pretty well. I’m getting a lot of work done on my other segments that people expect from me. I went to Target this morning and did a dance video on overspending. Then I went to Toys R Us and sent them off with a Broadway-worthy We’re Closing number.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I pushed.
Me: And your sex life? How’s that?
Six: Busy. Hard to find a spot that’s not filled.
I smiled despite her words, knowing something so brazen had to be a lie.
Me: You’re cruel.
Six: Yeah, I am. And I’m sure you’re celibate.
Me: I’ll have you know I might as well be. Without your little pussy pal, I’ve been living the life of a recluse.
Six: Yeah, right. What are you doing right now?
Knowing she didn’t believe me, and wouldn’t via text, I backed out of the messages and dialed her number on FaceTime.
Her eyes were covered as she filled the screen. “What are you doing?” I asked with a laugh.
“I don’t want to be blinded. Tell me there are no dirty things. Tell me I won’t be scarred for life. Promise it and swear it and then maybe I’ll look.”
My teeth pushed into the soft flesh of my bottom lip as I smiled. “It’s safe. You can look.”
One finger moving cautiously away from the next, she made a slit and peeked through before uncovering all the way. I laughed at her theatrics and rolled my eyes as she scanned the sight of me.
“Wow,” she remarked. “You’re dressed and everything.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t usually sit around my house naked.”
“Not. I do not believe it.”
Her smile was bright as I flipped her off.
“So, what exactly are you doing?” she asked.
“I told you. I was watching the first episode on YouCam.”
“That’s it?” she asked suspiciously. I laughed again.
“What exactly do you think I am?”
“I have no idea,” she mused. “A special creature with all kinds of dangerous secrets.”
My scoff was audible. “Oh yeah, secrets. My biggest secret is the online architecture game I play.”
Her chocolate eyes sparkled and danced. “Oh my God. Actually telling me your secrets? This is exciting! Hold on while I get a pen and pad. I want to write all of these down to use against you later.” She moved out of the frame and grabbed a pen, licking at the tip dramatically and pretending to write.
“Give me a break.”
Her smile was easy as she leaned into the camera of her phone and turned her eyes down at the corners to make them look sultry. She was a master of self-expression, that was for sure. “Tell me, Sean. Tell me all about this architecture app.”
I fidgeted self-consciously as a wave of regret rolled over me. I didn’t normally bring this up to anyone. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t do that. Tell me about it.”
“It’s just an online competition. I design stuff on my phone, and people rate it. You advance if you beat the other people in your round.”
“Have you always been interested in architecture?” she asked thoughtfully.
“I thought that was what I was going to do for my career,” I admitted. “When I tore my ACL.” I chuckled and shrugged. “I guess it’s funny how things work out.”
She nodded, a serene smile making her look gentle. “I went to school for finance. So yeah, I get it.”
“Wow. That’s a big change in career.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “That was really more of my parents’ plan, though. This was in my blood. I just never expected it to take off,” she admitted self-consciously.
“If I’d known you before, I could have told you it would,” I declared.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You could have?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, studying the undeniable likeability all over her. “You were made for this.”